I suppose the obvious place to begin is with pulp fiction novels. I grew up reading the works of Raymond Chandler, Jim Thompson, James M. Cain and Micky Spillane, among others who toiled in this genre. When I was a teen, Spillane was a definite guilty pleasure, the sort of read-under-the-blanket-with-a-flashlight stuff reserved for adults. Then I discovered Harold Robbins. Enough said about that.
I guess you can’t define what makes a cult classic and what doesn’t.