// sometimes it’s better not to know the author to enjoy the book (c)
There’s this idea that art should exist separately from its creator. And in theory, it makes sense. If a song, a book, or a film really hits you — why should it matter what kind of person made it? They can be a complete jerk. The work still works. Sounds logical, right? But in real life, it doesn’t always work that way.
Sometimes you genuinely like someone. An actor, a writer, a blogger, a musician — whoever. They just click. They inspire you, spark interest, feel close somehow. And then you randomly stumble upon an interview, a tweet, a comment. You learn a bit more about them. How they think. What they say. What they believe. And at some point you catch yourself thinking: damn, I wish I didn’t know that.
What’s interesting is that it’s often not about what they said. It’s about the mismatch. Their values, their way of thinking, their worldview just don’t line up with yours anymore. And that’s it. The magic breaks. No one owes anyone anything — but the pleasure is slightly ruined.
There’s even that saying: if you don’t want to spoil a book, don’t google the author. And honestly, in about 80% of cases, I don’t. If a book, a film, or a track really lands for me, I leave it alone. It’s not about being naive or “not wanting to know the truth.” It’s about not killing an experience with unnecessary information. It’s just a way of keeping distance. Because sometimes an image works only as long as you don’t know too much.
But sometimes it works the other way around. Someone exists somewhere in the background. You don’t really care. Maybe you don’t even know who they are. And then — one video, one interview, one honest answer — and suddenly you see them differently. Not with admiration. Not with awe. Just with respect. And somehow their work tastes better because of it.
At some point you realize something simple: we almost never like people as a whole. We attach ourselves to an image. To the way someone fits into our values, mood, or needs at a specific moment in life. And when that alignment ends, the interest ends too. The taste fades. And that’s normal.
Not everything has to last forever. And not everything that once deeply moved us is obligated to stay with us for life.