Someone asks me what I think of the “masterpieces of genre fiction”. Strange question. I have never considered masterpieces from such a perspective. I mean: a masterpiece is so — or not — independent of its literary genre. But the question opens the door to an interesting reflection. What has been conventionally called “genre fiction” does not seem to have won the respect of critics. But criticism is usually unfair with everything new. Literature, however, is always on the move — and worse for the critics who do not follow it. On the other hand, the popularization of “genre fiction” owes much to the fact that these works, in general, are written with the reader in mind. Writing with the reader in mind is an extremely effective method of producing poor work. But how garbage has always been successful among the public! Therefore, as far as “genre fiction” is concerned, caution is needed. Under no circumstances does a literary genre impose limits on the quality of an artistic work, so several works of “genre fiction” will overcome the barrier of time and become classics — some, in fact, have already done so… However, the artists of this literary genre will walk for a long time on a narrow line: loved by the public, despised by the critics, having to deal with the tyranny of success that can, in fact, destroy their artistic quality. It is necessary to have the courage to place art as queen and to be indifferent to the public’s desires…
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