Could be worse. I was once forced to read all of Pride and Prejudice for my English GCSE and all because of a scene involving Colin Firth and a wet shirt. Suddenly everyone* became obsessed with that damn book and the wretched scene isn't even in it.
As a fifteen year old kid, I wasn't interested in the slightest about the fact that Elizabeth Bennet thought Mr Darcy the most awful snob, or how scandalous it was that Jane ran off with the caddish Mr Wickham.
Why couldn't we have studied a story with meat to it like
1984 or
Animal Farm?
Yeah, Ms Austen and I don't see eye to eye.
* Everyone, that is, that went warm and melty at the sight of Colin Firth in clingy wet period costume.