“The critic of Thomas Kinkade paintings, where all the puddles on the ground have their eerie radioactive glow, and all the bungalows look like the living room has just caught on fire, is assumed to be a critic who is hostile to home, hearth, and wholesome family values. But the actual object of his hostility is the misrepresentation of home and hearth — why must a friend of traditional values believe that the windows of homey little cottages must glow like they housed Nebuchadnezzar’s furnace” (A Serrated Edge, p. 68).
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