A 288-page LinkedIn post

Every autobiography has to have a hero

Eleven Madison Park (Credit: Wally Gobetz)

“Never agree to write a book review.” That was the advice of a former colleague at a former newspaper’s comment desk. “Maximum effort, minimum clicks.” And they were right — it is the journalistic equivalent of consuming unseasoned, cafeteria-style, boiled-to-within-an-inch-of-its-life broccoli. Tasteless, shapeless and nutrient-free.

First of all, this is not a chat show — one has to actually read the damn thing. Even if it’s on a subject of vague interest, the very fact that it’s for work rather than pleasure saps the joy from every page. Nothing says “I’m enjoying this” like jotting down half-baked reflections on the glitchy iPhone Notes app.

My editor somewhat screwed me with the headline here

Second, and perhaps more to the point, no one will read it. Go on — when was the last time you sat down and read a review for general consumption? That is, when you weren’t trying to determine whether or not to make a specific purchase? And sorry, those end-of-year compilations don’t count.

It is partly for this reason that, despite reading roughly a book a week (not so much a humblebrag as a haughty gloat), I’ve never felt compelled to post a review. I’d much rather casually drop quotes or concepts as a quiet flex. Nevertheless, for Will Guidara’s Unreasonable Hospitality, I’m making an exception.

The hero of every chapter