Who to Blame​​:​

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Literature has its greats—Shakespeare, Austen, Tolstoy—but for every beacon of literary brilliance, there exists a shadowy underworld of authors whose work is so unreadable, so utterly dreadful, that it defies logic and good taste. This book is dedicated to those titans of tedium, the grandmasters of the grotesquely boring, the scribes of sheer suffering. Welcome to a collection of literary disasters, where every sentence is a mistake and every story is an endurance test. Here, right here in this book, we celebrate the authors who have managed to make reading not just difficult but downright regrettable.

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These authors may not be good, but they are certainly forgettable. Or, at the very least, they haunt libraries like unreadable ghosts. Brace yourself—this book is not for the faint of heart, the easily bored, or those who expect plot coherence. Welcome to the bottom of the literary barrel.

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Basil Q. Ponderous 

Basil Q. Ponderous has the rare ability to make even the most engaging subject matter feel like a never-ending lecture on the history of rocks. His prose is so heavy that it’s been known to cause severe drowsiness and a deep sense of existential dread. Reading him is like trying to wade through a bog while holding a brick—utterly exhausting and, by the end, you’re not sure what the point was.

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Ethel F. Whomaybe 

Ethel F. Whomaybe’s work is a true exercise in ambivalence. If you ever wondered what it would be like to stare at a blank page and wonder if something will eventually happen, her writing provides that experience in spades. Her novels are so meandering and undecided that even the characters seem to be unsure if they should bother continuing their stories. Ethel’s biggest achievement? Making even the most thrilling subject seem like a series of missed opportunities.

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Ambrose D. Unfamiliar 

Reading Ambrose D. Unfamiliar is akin to watching a snail attempt to solve a Rubik’s cube while floating in molasses. His descriptions are so vague, his plots so indistinct, that even the most dedicated reader would struggle to recall a single detail after putting down his work. "Unfamiliar" is an understatement—it's as if he’s writing in a language that doesn't quite exist yet.

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Reginald J. Whocares   

Reginald J. Whocares could write a thousand-page epic on the invention of the spoon, and the result would still leave you wondering why you should care about spoons at all. His works are more about the lack of excitement than the presence of it, offering prose that perfectly mirrors the slow death of enthusiasm. His characters are as engaging as a loaf of bread, and his dialogue? Well, let’s just say it's the literary equivalent of watching paint dry on the most beige wall imaginable.

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Mavis W. Hushnow   

Mavis W. Hushnow's writing is like being trapped in a room with a clock that ticks loudly and incessantly. Each sentence feels like a gentle nudge toward unconsciousness, and before you know it, you've been lulled into a stupor. Mavis has perfected the art of saying nothing in a thousand different ways, ensuring that her readers are left wishing they could un-read her books.

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Thurston B. Blahblah   

Thurston B. Blahblah could write a dissertation on the color grey and still manage to make it sound like the most tedious task imaginable. His endless, circular descriptions of completely irrelevant details leave the reader wondering if he's trying to be profound or if he's just fallen asleep mid-sentence. Either way, his work has the uncanny ability to put you in a trance—a dull, uninspired trance.

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Mortimer H. Whoisthis   

If you’ve ever wondered what it would be like to forget everything you’ve ever read just moments after finishing, Mortimer H. Whoisthis is the author for you. His books have the rare gift of being entirely forgettable, like a bad dream that you can’t remember but still leaves you with a strange sense of disappointment. He specializes in vague characters with motivations as unclear as his narrative style.

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Ophelia C. Pleasedontask   

Ophelia C. Pleasedontask writes with the kind of detachment you’d expect from someone who has long since stopped caring. Her stories are all like awkward silences in an elevator: uncomfortable, long, and ultimately leading nowhere. If you ever had the displeasure of reading her work, you’ll know exactly what I mean when I say that it feels like she’s begging you not to ask what it's all about.

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Barnaby T. Wheredidigo   

Barnaby T. Wheredidigo writes stories with all the excitement of a wet napkin, and his characters are as memorable as a foggy day. It’s almost as though you’re reading a book and suddenly realize you’ve lost track of what’s happening, where you are, and why you’re even bothering to read in the first place. Barnaby’s writing has an uncanny ability to make you forget everything you just read, including his name.

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Gwendolyn R. Whatever   

Gwendolyn R. Whatever’s work offers a perfect reflection of her name—completely indifferent and devoid of passion. Her novels could be considered “contemplative” if you enjoy staring at a blank wall for hours on end. There’s no spark, no drama, just a gentle lull into a world of complete apathy. Gwendolyn's writing is the literary equivalent of a shrug.

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James Neveragain   

James Neveragain has written a book that is so soul-suckingly tedious that the very thought of reading it again would induce an involuntary yawn. His plots are as predictable as a clock, and his characters so boring that they might as well be background furniture. His work is so excruciatingly boring that you’ll vow to never read a single word of it again—and you’ll mean it.

 

Bitey McSausage

 

Bitey McSausage is a reclusive writer best known for producing works of staggering monotony. A master of the mundane, Bitey’s prose has been described as “technically present” and “ideal for inducing naps.” When not penning lifeless sentences, he researches how to revolutionize the way people ignore literature.

Bitey McSausage is a literary enigma, known for crafting prose so breathtakingly dull that entire book clubs have been lost to spontaneous napping. A former champion of extreme envelope licking, Bitey spends many days cataloging the world’s least interesting paperweights and compiling a definitive history of medium-paced walking. His latest work, A Study in Utterly Reasonable Hat Sizes, has been hailed as “a book” by at least one person, and experts predict it will single-handedly redefine the concept of mild enthusiasm. No relation to Bitey Pierogi.

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Algernon S. Whoa-wait-what   

Algernon S. Whoa-wait-what’s writing is filled with so many twists and turns that you wonder if the plot was written by a confused squirrel on roller skates. Every time you think you've figured it out, another random event or character appears out of nowhere, and you're left with more questions than answers. Reading him is like riding a roller coaster blindfolded—disorienting and wildly unremarkable.

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Clarabelle M. Forgetit   

Clarabelle M. Forgetit writes books that are so unmemorable, you could read one and immediately forget it the moment you finish. Her plots are as thin as wet tissue paper, and her characters? More like afterthoughts. Clarabelle has the rare ability to make a 500-page novel feel like it’s one sentence stretched beyond recognition.

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Hubert L. Nevermind   

Hubert L. Nevermind’s writing is as unnecessary as a second set of shoelaces. His plots wander aimlessly, never reaching any particular destination. It's the literary equivalent of having a conversation with someone who talks in circles, says absolutely nothing of interest, and then walks away without a word of farewell. Hubert is the master of never delivering on promises.

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Jennifer Oh-no-not-again   

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Jennifer Oh-no-not-again is an author whose works defy description—and not in a good way. With an uncanny ability to turn any plot into a train wreck and dialogue that feels like a punishment, her books are the literary equivalent of a lukewarm cup of instant soup made with seawater. From her debut novel The Longest Sigh (a 743-page exploration of misplaced commas) to her most recent disasterpiece It Was All a Typo, Jennifer has forged a path that critics have called "unreadable," "unrelatable," and "a crime against paper."

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Despite everything, Jennifer remains unshaken, claiming her prose is "too avant-garde for comprehension." Readers who dare to embark on her labyrinthine narratives should prepare for confusion, frustration, and the occasional inexplicable recipe for tuna casserole. Truly, she is the gift no one asked for—but can’t seem to return.

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Eugenia F. Who-asked    

Eugenia F. Who-asked writes with such a lack of enthusiasm that it feels as though she’s typing with one hand while holding a lukewarm cup of tea in the other. Her books are filled with pages and pages of nothing, characters that are only half-formed, and plots that seem to lose their way in the first chapter. Who asked for this, Eugenia? Honestly, no one.

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Lionel V. Whatwasthat   

If you’ve ever been perplexed by the sheer pointlessness of life, Lionel V. Whatwasthat is the writer for you. His stories meander aimlessly, and when you finally get to the end, you can’t remember what happened—or if anything even did. Reading Lionel is like watching a movie with the sound off: nothing makes sense, and you’re left wondering why you bothered.

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Florence J. Overthere   

Florence J. Overthere’s novels are best described as “going somewhere, but never quite getting there.” Each page leaves you more perplexed than the last, and by the time you reach the end, you’re left wondering if you’ve just wasted several hours of your life or if you’ve experienced some kind of metaphysical conundrum. Either way, it’s not worth the mental effort.

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Darius N. Huh   

If you ever feel the need to read something that’s completely devoid of meaning, Darius N. Huh’s work is perfect for you. It’s as though he set out to write a story but forgot halfway through what he was doing. The result? A complete and utter jumble of confusion, where you’ll spend more time trying to figure out what’s going on than actually enjoying it.

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Penelope G. Lasttime   

Penelope G. Lasttime’s work feels like the literary equivalent of being stuck in a never-ending traffic jam—tiresome, frustrating, and lacking any sense of forward momentum. You get the feeling that she’s writing purely out of obligation, and you’d be hard-pressed to find any plot or character worth caring about. Her stories are an exercise in tedium, and when you finish, you’ll sigh with relief, glad it’s finally over.

 

Percival K. Blah   

Percival K. Blah is the embodiment of mediocrity. His stories are as thrilling as a soggy piece of toast, and his characters as interesting as a stack of paper. Reading him is like having a conversation with someone who speaks only in monotone, never straying from the most predictable topics. Percival has perfected the art of saying absolutely nothing in the longest possible way.

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Balthazar H. Is-that-really-my-name   

Balthazar H. Is-that-really-my-name? His books should come with a warning: “Do not read before operating heavy machinery.” His work is a guaranteed cure for insomnia, as his incredibly dull writing style lulls you into a stupor. You will likely find yourself asking, “Is this really my name?” as you struggle to stay awake while reading.

 

Derek Here-we-go-again   

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Derek Here-we-go-again is a writer whose reputation precedes him—mostly as a warning. Known for his relentless pursuit of mediocrity, Derek's novels have been described as "a masterclass in doing too much with too little." From his debut, The Thesaurus Chronicles (a book where every word feels like it was Googled mid-sentence), to his infamous Love in the Time of Mild Inconveniences, Derek’s work teeters on the brink of accidental parody.

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Critics have hailed his prose as “boldly unreadable” and “a fascinating study in poor life choices,” while his fans (yes, both of them) praise his unique ability to make every story feel like an eternity. Derek firmly believes his writing is “misunderstood genius,” but for most readers, it’s just misunderstood. Approach his books with caution—and a good sense of humor. You’ll need both.

 

Daniel Have-I-already-read-this?   

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Daniel Have-I-already-read-this? is the author of novels so forgettable, you’ll swear you’ve seen them before—probably on a bargain rack, sandwiched between Cooking for Cats and Tax Codes of the Midwest. With titles like Whisper of a Shadow’s Echo and The Second-to-Last Goodbye, Daniel’s works have been called “comfortably predictable” and “the literary equivalent of plain oatmeal.”

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Known for recycling plots, characters, and occasionally entire chapters, Daniel's writing is the perfect companion for those who enjoy déjà vu and books that practically read themselves—because you already know where they’re going. Despite this, Daniel insists each novel is "a fresh take," though even he sometimes loses track of his own endings.

If you’re looking for a safe, no-surprises journey into the world of fiction—or just something to fill the space on your bookshelf—Daniel’s your guy. Just don’t ask him to sign your copy; he probably won’t remember writing it.

 

Marigold P. Nobodycares   

Marigold P. Nobodycares has written novels so drab and uninspired that they make a wet dish towel seem like a thrilling adventure. Her work is the perfect cure for insomnia, leaving you pondering whether it’s worth continuing or if a nap would be a better use of your time. Every chapter feels like an overextended sigh, and by the end, you’ll be asking yourself, “Why did I read that?” Spoiler alert: nobody cares, not even Marigold.

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David What-am-I-doing-here?   

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David What-am-I-doing-here? is an author who boldly goes where no plot should ever venture. With a knack for starting stories he clearly didn’t plan to finish, David’s novels are a whirlwind of questionable choices, random tangents, and characters who seem as lost as their creator. His debut, Through the Door and Out the Window, was praised for its originality—mostly because no one could figure out what it was about.

David’s follow-up, The Wandering Protagonist, broke new ground by including 57 footnotes explaining why the main character doesn’t do anything. Fans love his books for their ability to make you question not only the story but your own life choices.

Reading David’s work is less about enjoying a novel and more about surviving an experience. If you’ve ever wondered, “What am I doing here?” while holding a book, chances are it was one of his.

 

Winifred What-does-that-even-mean   

Winifred What-does-that-even-mean has been baffling readers since her first collection of poetry, Pigeons: Feathered Philosophers or Flying Scoundrels?, hit the shelves—and promptly slid off into obscurity. With a writing style best described as "avant-garde meets auto-correct malfunction," her works challenge conventional storytelling, punctuation, and occasionally the English language itself.

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From her inexplicably 987-page novel Tapioca Dilemmas: A Saga in Seven Tenses to her memoir I Once Met a Goat and Other Lies I've Told Myself, Winifred's oeuvre leaves readers asking the same burning question: "What does that even mean?"

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Critics have called her work "provocative" (a neighbor), "unreadable" (her ex), and "technically a book" (a librarian). But don’t let that stop you! If you enjoy decoding hieroglyphs or debating whether art needs to make sense, Winifred is your next literary obsession.

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Samuel I. Take-it-all-back   

Few writers have made quite the splash—or subsequent belly flop—of Samuel I. Take-it-all-back. Known for his unflinching confidence in publishing works that range from A Treatise on the Importance of Silence (which included 400 blank pages) to How to Win Friends by Complaining About Everything, Samuel's literary career is a testament to what happens when ambition outpaces self-awareness.

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His magnum opus, Oops: A Memoir of Regrets, chronicles a life spent doubling down on bad decisions and then writing books about them. Critics have labeled his style “boldly misguided” (a disappointed book club), “a crime against syntax” (a grammar teacher), and “the reason my Kindle refuses to load” (a baffled tech support agent).

Whether you’re a fan of fiction, non-fiction, or just want to feel better about your own creative missteps, Samuel I. Take-it-all-back’s work will leave you inspired to close the book and do literally anything else.

 

Miss B. Gotten   

Miss B. Gotten—whose very name dances perilously close to the word misbegotten (defined as “poorly conceived, ill-advised, or downright unfortunate”)—has built an entire literary career on proving that some ideas should have stayed in the brainstorming phase. Her debut novel, The Unbearable Heaviness of Being Me, was praised for its audacity to exist, while her follow-up, Sonnets for Sandwiches: An Ode to Cold Cuts, left deli enthusiasts and poetry lovers alike scratching their heads.

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From her historical non-fictional fiction (Napoleon Was a Pisces—And Other Things I Made Up) to her self-help book Be Your Best Self: Unless You’re Already Tired, Then Don’t Bother, Miss B. Gotten’s bibliography is a treasure trove of concepts that probably should’ve been workshopped… or buried.

Critics have described her prose as “a unique mix of perplexing and perplexed,” “the literary equivalent of a soggy crouton,” and “so bad it’s good—no, wait, just bad.” For those brave enough to venture into the world of Miss B. Gotten, prepare to laugh, cry, and ultimately wonder, What was she thinking?

 

Octavius Q. Whatsitnow   

If you’re looking for a book that answers absolutely nothing, Octavius Q. Whatsitnow is your man. His writing is like an endless string of non sequiturs, where you’re never quite sure what’s going on or why it matters. It’s as if he wrote his books while distracted by a shiny object just offscreen. By the time you finish, you’ll be wondering if it was all a terrible mistake—like watching a hamster wheel spin with no hamster in sight.

 

Hester V. Enoughalready   

Hester V. Enoughalready’s books should come with a built-in warning: “You’ve had enough.” Reading her work is like sitting through an interminable family dinner where everyone talks at once, and nothing important is ever said. It’s a slow, painful process of realizing you’ve given up and just want it to end. If you’ve ever asked yourself, “How much longer can I endure this?” then you’ve probably read Hester’s work.

 

Barnaby S. Oh-wait   

Barnaby S. Oh-wait has perfected the art of building a story only to pull the rug out from under it in the most anticlimactic way possible. Every chapter feels like a setup for something incredible, and then—Oh, wait—it’s over, and nothing happened. His books are a master class in letdown, where you get all the build-up but none of the payoff. It’s like waiting for a punchline that never comes.

 

Reginald W. Isthisit   

Reginald W. Isthisit is the author who makes you question if the title of the book should be “Is this it?” because that’s exactly what you’ll think by the end. His novels drift aimlessly, characters mumble their way through the plot, and the climax is as exciting as watching grass grow. If you’re hoping for any sort of revelation, prepare to be disappointed. It’s not that kind of book, and it’s not that kind of author.

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