[image ID: a tweet that says "in literary criticism, there usually isn't a right answer, but it is eminently possible for there to be a wrong one. End ID.]
If you're wondering how this is possible, by the way, imagine a conversation between four friends. One says, "cheesecake is a cake." It's in the name: they're not wrong.
I say, "no. Anyone who's ever baked can tell you it's a pie. Look up how to make a key lime or chocolate mousse pie, it's literally the same thing." And it's true: like these pies, cheesecake has a batter that's poured into a graham cracker crust and its consistency is smooth, rather than going directly into a pan and having a crumb. I'm not wrong.
The third person says "just for the sake of argument, let's consider: cheesecake is a pizza." This person is trying to stimulate thought and debate by pointing out the similarities in the two seemingly-disparate foods (round pie-shaped crust with open face topped with cheese, baked, can have other toppings, both foods are associated with a specific side of the sweet/savory dichotomy but can actually be both). They're not wrong! In the end, this answer is about creating further questions in order to more fully answer the first question.
The fourth person looks at the top of the cheesecake and says "it looks like a giant mushroom* so it's a fungus."
One of these people has an answer that's so far out of the realm of reality it may have just been nominated for a Hugo Award, and it's not the pizza answer.
And that is how you can have no right answers—the first three answers here are all different interpretations that can be strongly backed up— but you can definitely have a wrong one.
*if you've never seen a cheesecake that was baked at home instead of in a restaurant and this statement is confusing you, look up a photo and then look up photos of baby bella mushrooms.
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