Today I bought a copy of Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man. The cashier looked at the book and said "Oh." Somehow she made the "oh" sound like "yuck!" It turned out she was an English Major too, and James Joyce had made her miserable. I explained I was reading it for a book club. She said she was going to avoid my book club, and told me where to find the Cliff's notes.
Is not my first choice.