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Discovering traces of flawed humanity in an idol of one’s adolescence is a shocking thing; one almost never forgives the idol for being, after all, as imperfect as the rest of us.

This is, possibly, why YA authors in particular can draw such strong negative reactions if they stray in some fashion from the path of virtue:  Their former fans can still remember that early rush of uncritical admiration, and — now that they’re all grown up and are trained readers and everything — it embarrasses them.