Yesterday I discovered a new guilty pleasure, and one which I strongly suspect will stick; reading mean reviews. It all started here, more specifically with this wonderful single-star review. There is something wonderfully comforting about reading someone’s take on another’s perceived failure - particularly when you suspect they are making salient points. I also think the irony of a bad review having more literary legitimacy than it opines the book itself to have is particularly delicious. Perhaps in the future I will try and feature some of my favourite mean book reviews - I am quietly confident there will be some delightful ones for Infinite Jest, for example.