Forgive me, Dante, for I am a sinner. I confess. Do not judge me too harshly, oh Joyce, Tolstoy, Waugh, Saramago, and other greats that collect my dust instead of my readership. I mean well. I feel genuine pleasure and admiration when I muster the will and energy to read your famous words, but that … More Pulp Fiction: I Read Crap and I Struggle with Literature. Shoot Me.