Literature, as an art form, must justify itself through the worthiness of its beauty. If one cannot see its artistic merits whilst ignoring the impetus and aims of its composition, it is not autotelic, but terminal and meaningless – one’s perception of an artwork’s meaning can vary, but it can never influence the quality. As soon as this happens, the art loses what it truly is – self-justifying – and becomes what it is not, which is truth and logic. This is the problem in the hands of a satirist…
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