We've been told all our lives that we can only call ourselves well-read once we've read the Great Books. We tried. We got halfway through Infinite Jest and halfway through the SparkNotes on Finnegans Wake. But a few pages into Bleak House, we realized that not all the Great Books have aged well. Some are racist and some are sexist, but most are just really, really boring. So we—and a group of un-boring writers—give you permission to strike these books from the canon. Here's what you should read instead.

1. Lonesome Dove by Larry McMurtry

The Mountain Lion by Jean Stafford Instead:by Jean Stafford

I actually love Lonesome Dove, but I'm convinced that the cowboy mythos, with its rigid masculine emotional landscape, glorification of guns and destruction, and misogynistic gender roles, is a major factor in the degradation of America. Rather than perpetuate this myth, I'd love for everyone, but particularly American men, to read The Mountain Lion by Jean Stafford. It's a wicked, brilliant, dark book set largely on a ranch in Colorado, but it acts in many ways as a strong rebuttal to all the old toxic western stereotypes we all need to explode. —Lauren Groff, 'Florida'

2. The Catcher in the Rye by J. D. Salinger

Olivia: A Novel by Dorothy Strachey Instead:by Dorothy Strachey

I have never been able to fathom why The Catcher in the Rye is such a canonical novel. I read it because everyone else in school was reading it but thought it was totally silly. Now, looking back, I find that it is without any literary merit whatsoever. Why waste adolescents' time? Alternatively, I'd suggest Olivia, the story of a British teenage girl who is sent to a boarding school in France. It is short and written in a kind of levelheaded and deceptively straightforward style. Olivia eventually falls in love with her teacher Mademoiselle Julie T, who in turn, and without reciprocating that love out loud, is equally in love with Olivia. Julie never takes a wrong step, but there are signs for those who know how to read them. I read Olivia many, many times, bought it for many of my friends, and consider it the inspiration for Call Me by Your Name. —André Aciman, 'Call Me by Your Name'

3. Goodbye to All That by Robert Graves

Dispatches by Michael Herr Instead:by Michael Herr

Goodbye to All That, the autobiographical account of Graves's time in the trenches during World War I, is entertaining and enlightening. It's also incredibly racist. Graves includes samples of near unintelligible essays produced by three of his students (“Mahmoud Mohammed Mahmoud,” “Mohammed Mahmoud Mohammed,” and “Mahmoud Mahmoud Mohammed”) from his postwar stint as an English instructor in Cairo. The joke is twofold—all these silly natives have similar-sounding names, and they lack the basic intellectual capacity to grapple with the literature. A better option is Dispatches by Michael Herr. It concerns a different time, country, and war, but this is still, in my mind, the most indispensable personal account of the cruelty and violence of modern warfare. —Omar El Akkad, 'American War'

4. The Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemingway

The Summer Book by Tove Jansson Instead:by Tove Jansson

My father loved The Old Man and the Sea, so I tried to love it. It left me unmoved. Mostly, I kept hoping the fish would get away without too much damage. (When my grandpa pushed me to catch a trout at a fish farm, I threw the rod into the pond.) I'd rather read Tove Jansson's The Summer Book. This series of vignettes about a grandmother and granddaughter living on a remote Finnish island is not just heartwarming: In its views of both Nature and human nature, it teaches us what it is to be in sync with the world. All of Jansson's adult fiction is deeply humane and beautiful. —Jeff VanderMeer, 'Annihilation'

5. The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho

Near to the Wild Heart by Clarice Lispector Instead:by Clarice Lispector

Somehow, even at 208 pages, The Alchemist is 207 pages too long. A dude wanders the desert, trying to uncover his Personal Legend (capitalized as such throughout the book) while meeting people who speak in the inane aphorisms of a throw pillow: “Remember that wherever your heart is, there you will find your treasure.” If you're after a book of existential meandering by a Brazilian author, pick up the similarly slim Near to the Wild Heart by Clarice Lispector. Unlike the entitled desert wandering of The Alchemist, Wild Heart's contemplations are inward and complex. For Lispector, there aren't easy answers—and her universe sure as hell is not interested in your hopes and dreams. —Kevin Nguyen, GQ senior editor

6. A Farewell to Arms by Ernest Hemingway

The Great Fire by Shirley Hazzard Instead:by Shirley Hazzard

Hemingway's novels—with their masculine bluster and clipped sentences—sometimes feel almost parodic to me. If you want to read about the intersection of love and war, Hemingway's subjects in A Farewell to Arms, consider Shirley Hazzard's The Great Fire, about the fallout of the Second World War. Though it was published in 2003, the book feels both contemporaneous with that period and wholly contemporary. Hazzard just writes so damn well, every sentence a gem.

—Rumaan Alam, 'That Kind of Mother'

7. Blood Meridian by Cormac McCarthy

The Sisters Brothers by Patrick deWitt Instead:by Patrick deWitt

I'm a great admirer of Cormac McCarthy's sparer masterpieces, but I'm ambivalent about Blood Meridian, the historical epic often cited as his greatest work. Set in the Old West and written in an impenetrable style that combines Faulkner and the King James Bible, Blood Meridian is a big, forbidding book that earns the reader bragging rights but provides scant pleasure. If you're looking for a more human-scaled, emotionally engaging novel set in the same time period, I'd recommend The Sisters Brothers by Patrick deWitt. It's a dark, funny, brutal Western about a pair of hired killers, at least one of whom has a conscience. It covers some of the same ground as Blood Meridian and has a lot more fun along the way. —Tom Perrotta, 'Mrs. Fletcher'

8. John Adams by David McCullough

Destiny of the Republic: A Tale of Madness, Medicine and the Murder of a President by Candice Millard Instead:by Candice Millard

David McCullough is one of our foremost historians, and his books are written with great care and impressive attention to detail. They also happen to be the driest, boringest tomes you'll ever sludge through. One time I read his book about the history of the Panama Canal, and it required about as much sweat and labor as it took to build the actual canal. For some kick-ass history, read Destiny of the Republic, about the assassination of President Garfield, the doctors who tried to save him but actually ended up killing him, and the frantic attempt by a deranged Alexander Graham Bell to invent a machine to find the bullet located in the president's body. All in a relatively tidy 339 pages. At no point will you feel like there's a test at the end. —Drew Magary, GQ contributor

9 & 10. Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain

Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass, an American Slave by Fredrick Douglass Instead:by Fredrick Douglass

The worst crime committed by Adventures of Huckleberry Finn is that it makes first-time Twain readers think Twain wrote tedious, meandering stories. He did, as is evidenced by this, his book of tedious, meandering stories—but he also wrote a lot of richly entertaining meandering stories that are not constrained by the ham-fisted narration of a fictional backcountry child or suffused with his sweaty imitation of a slave talking. Alternatively, read Frederick Douglass's firsthand account of slavery, which is equal parts shocking and heartbreaking. It's also an invigorating revenge story: Douglass identifies slave owners by name and hometown, detailing their crimes with such specificity that their descendants will be embarrassed forever. While Jim, the affable slave friend of Huck Finn, exclaims things like “Lawsy, I's mighty glad…,” Frederick Douglass makes observations like “I love the pure, peaceable, and impartial Christianity of Christ: I therefore hate the corrupt, slaveholding, women-whipping, cradle-plundering, partial and hypocritical Christianity of this land.” You were saying, Mr. Twain? —Caity Weaver, GQ writer and editor