I read this when it first came out, I was pretty irritated by his writing. He is a professional New York critic, and certainly his picture on the front cover of the book supports the stereotype; he finds imperfection in everything. Nothing that anyone does or says meets with his approval. He even writes about supportive friends who invited him to dinner and talks extensively about a passing slight, and he writes with enough detail of the people that I'm sure his friends knew they were being written about. I can't help but think that I would certainly not want to have him at my table.

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