For reasons that aren’t always clear, some things resonate with me and others don’t. A song, a painting, a piece of writing, or a stranger’s face could trigger a reaction of attraction or aversion. I don’t know why I’m drawn to the things I am. The bundle of preferences or biases that collectively form our sense of taste is as much a part of who we are as such aspects of our selves as race, nationality, and ethnicity, that we acquire at birth. We might have a bit more control over our tastes than the color of our skin or where we were born, but I wonder how much more.

Certainly our tastes change throughout our lives and are conditioned by those around us, by what we’re exposed to, so we know they’re subject to outside influences and our own conscious or unconscious manipulation. Does anyone really like coffee or beer the first time they taste it? How much effort goes into acquiring a taste for those beverages and what motivates it?

I suppose many of our tastes come from a desire to emulate those we admire and to distance ourselves from those we disdain, but since our admiration and disdain are themselves reflections of our tastes, we haven’t answered the question, but just re-framed it a bit. When it comes to the question of why we like what we like, maybe we should do as the Romans—whether we’re in Rome or not—and with a shrug of our shoulders mutter de gustibus non est disputandum.

From Latin class I know that the passive periphrastic—a construction consisting of a form of “be” plus the gerundive of a verb—expresses necessity, so I take the phrase to mean something like “in the matter of tastes, there must be no arguing.” Why no arguing? Because argument is futile, since people’s tastes are what they are and there is nothing that can be done about it. The English idiom, “There’s no accounting for tastes,” often accompanied by a shake of the head and a look of exasperation, is what we say when we come across something contrary to our own tastes.

What got me thinking about the question of taste is my activity here on Substack, commenting about books I think others would enjoy. I feel indebted to all the people who have turned me on to music, books and movies that I might never have discovered without their help, and it’s gratifying when someone appreciates something I’ve recommended, not only because of the pleasure they derive from it, but because it validates my own assessment and tastes. Still, not every recommendation is a success. There are negative reactions, too.

Curious about attitudes towards the books I’ve commented on so far in this Substack (Arithmetic, The Netanyahus, and The Epiphany Machine), which I thought were brilliant, I checked out the ratings and reviews on Amazon. The ratings for the three books are good, and many of the reviews are insightful, informative, and interesting. But, of course, each of the books has garnered some 1-star ratings as well, and not because the books were delivered late or in bad condition. Here is a sampling of comments paired with 1-star ratings for books I didn’t think were just pretty good and worth reading, but phenomenal:

“If I could put negative stars on this I would”

“Trite and Insulting”

“It was one of the worst books I’ve ever read”

“Clueless author”

“I like to use this book in my bathroom, for various bodily functions”

“I can’t believe anyone liked this book.”

We’re all entitled to like or dislike what we please, (after all, de gustibus….), but can’t we dislike something without calling it a piece of crap? I’m struck by the vitriol in these comments, and I wonder why these readers’ reactions are so fierce. The more specific criticisms are also curious in that they attack the very things I would regard as strengths. An author remarkable for the depth and breadth of his scholarship and research is called clueless, and a novel that is unusually insightful and relevant is tagged as trite and insulting. (BTW, how exactly does a book insult a reader?) These particular criticisms are about as on target as calling Jack Smith, as methodical and rational a guy as you’re likely to find, deranged.

My aim here isn’t to dispute the criticisms but to try to understand what’s behind them. It’s possible that the writers of the comments above are very critical sorts who generally pen harsh reviews. Maybe denigrating the work of others bolsters their self esteem. But I think it’s even more likely that something about these particular books upset them and perhaps threatened their world view in a way that made them want to take up arms. If that’s the case, the authors were successful at getting to the core of something important in their writing. Otherwise, they would have annoyed no one.

April, 2025