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Several years ago, the Humanities Division at my university sponsored an Arts Festival to
commemorate the opening of the new Cultural Arts Center. Colleagues from the division-English, History, and Philosophy departments-were to present papers relating to their current research.
I was a bit taken aback when my division chair asked me to present one. He knew that my
research centered primarily on horror-and on Stephen King in particular; and I knew that many
in the division looked upon my activities as an aberration of an unsettled mind. One colleague,
for example, noticed a King novel among the books one of his advisees was holding during a
meeting in his office. He took the opportunity to explain to the poor benighted child that such
books were not appropriate on a college campus and certainly not welcome in his office. The
student-to my enormous gratification-calmly explained that the text was required reading for one
of his classes (mine, to be precise) and that even if it weren't, he would be reading it anyway.
Another colleague, whose attitudes toward any sub-literary forms, including science fiction,
fantasy, and horror, took great pains to explain to the rank, tenure, and promotion committee
the extent to which she felt I was wasting my time and the university's money in such trivial
pursuits. She even objected to the fact that my early Starmont House King studies were printed
in courier font-obviously the work of amateurs among the great unwashed. She made her point.
Over my thirty years at the university, her attitude cost me several promotions.
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