You could argue that in art it is folly to worry about authenticity and the real shame is when a masterful “fake” suddenly loses all its value when you find out it wasn’t painted or recorded by the person you thought it was.

Edit:

I am torn about how I feel on the matter but here’s a story worth sharing: I stayed up all night the day before the release of a much-awaited book in a series to read, leaked blurry jpeg by leaked blurry jpeg, hundreds of pages of the book that had just appeared online (I also went out and bought a copy the next day).

While reading it, I knew there was no guarantee it was “real” and it could have been an elaborate hoax but the quality of the storytelling was such that I didn’t care (at least in the moment) if it was fan fiction or the real deal: it was good and I wouldn’t have regretted my time or enjoyed what I had read any less if it turned out to be a “fake.”