The last group, the non-genre reader, has a heftier set of misconceptions to get past. The stories that compose our idea of “good genre” are completely off their radar – they don’t get enough play within genres, never mind making it through into the mainstream. Their only exposure to genre fiction are the unflattering stereotypes that straggle through the media or other various sources, and if they make a cursory investigation, these stereotypes are often supported by the genres themselves.
People only read so many stories – they have only so much time set aside for fiction. We know that one of the main reasons people don’t read genres like science fiction and horror, is because they simply don’t want to expend the effort sifting through stories that won’t interest them, assuming that they even believe there might be any that could. It takes a level of passion deeper than just “appreciating” a genre to justify that. And people read stories for some sort of pay-off – either of pleasure, illumination, or (ideally) both. So it’s not surprising that the loyal or non-genre reader will find one niche that pleases them a fair amount of the time, and stay there.
It’s also true that the less you have read of a genre, the more work is required to access it. Each genre has its own borders: a self-referential system of devices and vocabulary unique to itself, built up over its history. Stories that clearly fall within each genre differ markedly from others outside. Genres are ever evolving modes of communication, and quite sophisticated ones at that – each with the ability to explore certain aspects of reality, each with certain strengths that suit them to their chosen environments. So it’s conversely true that the more in tune a reader is with the workings of a genre, the more a complex story will reveal to them. In short – it is precisely what sets genres apart from one another that makes them effective, but by being set apart, they create a gap that must be crossed to access them.
This is another barrier to both the single-genre reader and the non-genre reader, but while all of these factors explain why these two groups of readers might not range further afield, none of them justify it.
A person who only reads one niche of literature, is a person who only speaks one language – and just as the nature of our global society makes speaking only English an isolationist and impractical trait, so does reading only one niche result in a severely limited scope. And it’s not nearly as hard to learn science fiction as it is, say, Japanese (not that I’m comparing the value of one to the other). Just as with a language, learning a new genre can alter how you perceive reality and give you access to an entirely new culture that, invariably, reveals more about yourself. We live in too various a world, under too many influences, for any one genre to reflect the sum of our experience. Limiting what we read is denying ourselves the exploration of a part of our own psyche, or internal landscape.
This is as true for the mainstream reader who neglects science and horror fiction, as it is for the rabid genre fan who neglects the mainstream. Or poetry. Or any medium or form whose goal is to present an emotionally and intellectually evocative and powerful examination of our reality.

In focusing on specific, neglected regions of the literatures of horror and science fiction, and creating an environment in which they are the rule, not the exception, we are seeking to round out and enrich these particular genres, all the people who read them, and thus all literary forms and everyone who is seeking to experience beauty or truth wherever it may lie. What you are holding is the next installment in our continuing pursuit of these principles across those genres that have always been powerful influences on our lives, and we believe, by extension, can be for many, many people.