The tough thing about being famous is that, no matter how much good stuff you do, some picky critics out there are going to dig around for dirt on you. The tough thing about being REALLY famous is that they're going to keep doing it even when you've been dead for years.
And so we here at 50 Books bring you Three Literary Bastards and Why to Hate Them.*
1. Ernest Hemingway
You think you hate Hemingway because he was a misogynist with an aversion to descriptive words. You wonder, rightly, how could anyone not like women and adjectives? They are the eleven herbs and spices on the juicy chicken thigh of life. But the thing about trashing on Hem for either of these reasons is that, let's be honest, it's old. It's been done. Ho-hum.
But wait no longer. If you want to trounce Papa, I have new fodder for you: declining fish populations.
2. Arthur Miller
Everyone loves to love Arthur Miller, especially book geeks like us. Homely guy marries sexiest woman in the world and writes one of the defining classics of his generation? It's the American Dream, nerd-style. How can you not love him? How about because he never acknowledged his Down-syndrome child, Daniel, and instead had him institutionalized from birth?
3. Ryszard Kapuscinski
Oh, Ryszard... not you, too.
I just don't know whom to believe in any more. Except maybe the bonobos. Or maybe not.
*Okay, they're not actually bastards. (Probably.) I just said that to get attention. And I don't actually hate them. I have a hard time hating dead people. Except for Hitler.