Try an experiment: if you ever find yourself among people who seem pleased with themselves for their discerning intellectual tastes, mention the name of C.S. Lewis. Watch the hint of a sneer cross their faces. Then assert that he wrote one of the 20th century’s greatest novels.
There’s a decent chance your friends will audibly snort. They’ll almost certainly tell you Lewis was far too simple and plebeian to make really great art. But they will be wrong, and you will be right. The satisfaction this occasions will only increase with time.