When one realizes something isn’t a truth it is then categorized as such.
What then follows is a sort of degradation in the value of the content.
Societal expectations helps cook this into effectively neutralizing the impact of the work. As a story teller I aim to express ideologies and personae, which exist outside of my own. There is a theme yes, there are pervading philosophies of which I find interest,–but not all things I write are to be treated as a sort of, ‘Aw how cute,’ or ‘Oh my god that’s totally me.’ I can see parallels drawn between the reader, and the characters, irrespective of the nature of the character themselves.
That isn’t the problem so much as the thought provoking idea of understanding a sociopath, or the concept of wider sensory perception, being whittled down to, ‘it’s fiction,’ results in potentially useful meditations being lost in pop-cultural references, and ‘notes’ or ‘beats’ expected to be met within the narrative. Turning the work into a formulaic cliché ‘approved’ piece, and not presenting the full potential of the story teller.
Stories beloved outside the fashionable is a good insight into the person’s true interests. It is not to say that one can’t appreciate a work, which is approved by their society. Rather it is to say, a good test is when one finds a story that society has an indifference toward. For when society agrees upon a work as being good, then comes the potential of half-assed copies, which don’t understand the materiel. The possible perversion made by readers who assume to understand the concepts posed, and claim knowledge. Then always when society no longer has an eye for the content, such superficial claims, and bland stories, will wash away; leaving garbage upon the banks. It is then up to the truly interested, to sift though the rubbish, to find the works of passionate value.