I didn't hate The Goldfinch, but I didn't like it much, either. It was the kind of book where if it was on the bedside table and I had a choice between reading it or staring at the ceiling for a while, the ceiling usually won. I read it a second time, because I couldn't work out what was wrong, and I still thought it was very well-written; it just didn't ever fully come to life, which is a shame for a great whopping book with no obvious flaw.
The Secret History, on the other hand: I could write a hundred-point list of things which annoy me there, but I've read it a dozen times and will read it again. For all its flaws, it has real charisma, if that's possible in a book. I feel something similar for We Need To Talk About Kevin. So much wrong with it! Then suddenly I'm half-way through again.
I dislike The Miniaturist so much it's almost embarrassing. Take a big glop of historical research, chuck in all the Important Social Issues you can think of (don't worry if they don't blend easily: just mash them into the plot as much as you can), season with nice descriptions of food and furniture, then sprinkle with random and purpose-free magic realism. Sell a trillion copies. Ugh.