Your writer of pulp is been carefully reading a very full book called The Better Maker by Walter Aske. As I read it, the hero is struggling with his own eccentricities as he navigates a passage into a world where the object is to somehow fit, find home, makes sense of the passions without ever becoming convinced or aligned to a belief through submission. I'm a long way from the end, so who knows what will happen.
I get the sense that Aske reckons his book is flawed. Who knows whether it is or
not. In the tapestry the idea of flaw assumes a perfect template onto which a
coat is hung. Sure there's stuff like spelling and semi-colons. But if your
writer of pulp can reach page 110 and is eager for more, then the idea of flaw
becomes absurd to him. I guess too, more useful than the end, much depends upon
who Aske is writing for. It's exciting.