A couple of points:
Harry Potter - when the books were appearing, my mother was a supply teacher and whenever a new book came out, ALL the children would be reading whenever they got a chance. This was particularly notable with the ones who otherwise never voluntarily picked up a book. That has to be a good thing, whatever the merits of the series as literature.
Turgid prose - way back in the early '80s I did a lot of long distance1 travelling by train. I'd pick up remaindered books to while the time away. One was a series of essays by Gore Vidal. One section was on fiction writing2. His theory was that most American novels were being written by academics for other academics to review and criticise and weren't really meant to be entertainment. The style and technique were more important than the content.
Another book I didn't finish. The Game of Kings by Dorothy Dunnett. An ex-girlfriend was almost obsessed with this series. I've tried twice, one when I was still seeing her, and once about thirty years later. I did get a bit further on the second time, but not that far.
1: Southampton to Snowdonia for the weekend, for instance
2: the other section was about American politics. He always referred to Nixon as the First Criminal. I have often wondered what he would have made of the soon to be ex-incumbent of that office.
I will be happily be judged harshly for disparaging Harry Potter if they're getting kids to read without having to resort to electrical shocks. My plan to do the same with the
Fifty Shades series hasn't yet got off the ground. Plan B is to get
The Continuing Adventures of Takeshi Kovac's Penis added to the curriculum. It worked for me – which child of my generation didn't have well-read copies of such epics as
The Rats – there's be some guaranteed around-the-maypole action by page 72, as the love interest would reach out and tightly grasp... [this page intentionally left blank]
Gore Vidal is, I think, correct. Most literary fiction on both sides of the Atlantic seems to be written for the reviewers and critics, who quite often are also literary fiction writers. Older literary fiction is a bit more approachable, the modern stuff tries too hard and yet, underneath the usual conceit, comes across as quite samey.
Reminds me, as we're on prize-winning literary fiction, I should mention
Wolf Hall which was a bit like running a marathon while carrying a double bed with a copulating fat couple on top of it. I don't doubt the author's dedication but honestly, it took forever zipping back and forth to figure out who, in any of given two-and-half-page long paragraph was doing the talking. A process not helped by the book featuring what seemed like 27 doubtfully different Thomases of whom only one was the narrator. With the singular economy of one pronoun she'd be simultaneously be referring to eight different men. Who the fuck is 'he'? In parts I don't think even he knew. The 'shes' were easier as there were only about three in Tudor times.