 This entry has focused on a number of central issues in the philosophy of fiction: the nature of fiction; what it means to say that something is a truth of fiction; what (and in what sense) we can learn from fiction; and how we can have emotional responses to characters of fiction. There are other issues in the philosophy of fiction that could have been discussed in this entry, a number of them the subject of related entries. Consider the question of what makes something a correct interpretation of a work of literary fiction. This topic, which is connected to the issue of truth in fiction, became of intense interest to both philosophers and literary theorists following the publication of Wimsatt and Beardsley’s “The Intentional Fallacy” (1946), although the topic of interpretation itself has a long history going back as far as Greek antiquity (see the entry on  hermeneutics).  There are also problems involving our reasons for seeking out works of fiction of various kinds. The previous section discussed the so-called paradox of fiction, but as it turns out this is a relative newcomer to the set of problems that involve our engagement with works of fiction. There is also the much-debated puzzle of why we enjoy works of tragedy (and even horror); sadness and fear are scarcely emotions that we would normally welcome, let alone enjoy, yet people readily engage with works of tragedy. (The so-called paradox of tragedy received a famous treatment, still debated in contemporary philosophy, at the hands of Aristotle in the Poetics, who also used tragedy as an example of how we can learn from fiction.)  A newer problem, although discussion goes back to at least Hume, is the so-called problem of imaginative resistance: given the ease with which readers of fiction can entertain all kinds of implausible fictional scenarios, even impossible ones, what explains the impediments we face when asked to imagine certain sorts of situations, for example ones in which morally horrendous acts like torturing an innocent person are considered morally right? (For an overview of these puzzles, see  the supplement to the entry on  imagination).  Juxtaposing these various problems and issues not only gives a good indication of the thematic richness of contemporary philosophy of fiction, but also reminds us of its long history.