As a younger man, writing music reviews nearly ruined my experience as a listener. Part of this was immaturity and a (kind of now) embarrassing need to prove and steadily remind any readers just how enlightened I was, spotting and enumerating an album’s flaws in language I considered very, very witty, often for its meanness. The whole thing was fairly ugly, looking back.
So far this hasn’t happened with books and book reviews. So far reading remains an act of appreciation rather than destruction. My review of Andreas Maier’s novel, Klausen, is up at Look / Listen.