Why I hate John Irving

April Bernard articulates what's not to like about John Irving better than I can.

He's one of those writers, like Anne Tyler, that I'm not really crazy about, yet manages to consume one after another of their books. Well, they're dependably entertaining, and often the best best at airport bookstores. Thick enough to absorb the tedium of long flights. Yet is it really worth the vaguely pissed off feeling I get everytime I am reminded of his stuff?