I long regarded James Fenimore Cooper as the worst writer ever published. I’m not a slow reader — I read Patricia McKillip’s entire Riddlemaster trilogy in one long evening — but it took me a full month to force my way through The Prairie. Mark Twain was too gentle in his assessment of Cooper.
But apparently there are worse than Cooper. Amanda McKittrick Ros, for instance. Here’s the opening of her poem “Visiting Westminster Abbey.”
Holy Moses! Take a look!
Flesh decayed in every nook!
Some rare bits of brain lie here,
Mortal loads of beef and beer.
According to Wikipedia, “The Oxford literary group the Inklings, which included C. S. Lewis and J. R. R. Tolkien, held competitions to see who could read Ros’ work for the longest length of time without laughing.” Her first novel, Irene Iddesleigh, is available at Project Gutenberg. I’ll leave it for readers with stronger stomachs to attempt.
Hm. The Vogons were veritable poseurs by comparison.
I’ll see you, and raise you a Julia Ann Moore — and I still have a couple of hole cards to play.