I've seen it happen, all too often. I'm at a dinner party, and the person next to me asks me what I do, and I say I'm a novelist, and a little light of hopeful interest kindles in their eyes.

And what kind of novels do you write, the dinner guest asks. And I reply: Fantasy. And there it is -- freeze-frame it! That little light in their eyes, that light of hopeful interest dies.

There's...