In college, my 2nd semester Art History final included a Jackson Pollack "painting". I refused to simply regurgitate the nonsense the professor had spouted about it in lecture, and instead wrote an essay saying that I found it laughable that anyone actually considered Pollack's work "art". I got a "C" in the class, mostly because I probably got a 0 on that final exam question. But it was worth it. After two semesters of Art History, where we looked at some of the greatest masterpieces of painting and sculpture from the Greeks up through the Impressionists, I just could not bring myself to give Pollack's paint splatters any credence.
Sounds like a college short story class I took. We had to analyze the stories and if we didn’t find some bizarre sexual perversion at every level, we were wrong.
I was being asked to find things I’d never even heard of let alone had the dmented ability to contemplate. Couldn’t do it and took the poor grade.
Call m shallow, but sometimes a story is just a story.