Being a reviewer (Gore Vidal enjoyed reminding everyone of the distinction between a reviewer and a critic) is easy work, especially for a young person—you are always standing safely at a remove; nothing is risked, nothing is bloodied. Writing reviews can become your first little frisson of power, and if you’re not rigorous with yourself (you won’t be), your aesthetic judgments about a book can become moral judgments: this bad person—“bad” because he has such a minute understanding of the human experience—wrote this bad book. I also didn’t understand that while I had been given a modest platform, I had no innate authority.

And whatever I believed I was doing with these book reviews, it had nothing to do with cultivating appreciation.