I remember the first time I was reading a book in the living room, in front of my father. Something in the book made me laugh, you know, like the payoff after an author has spent a lot of time building up to a satisfying turn of phrase.
I was probably... fourteen or so.
I laughed, and he asked "what was so funny?"
Trying to give all the context to someone else who hadn't read what I had, was frustrating, not least because his attention drifted while I was explaining, probably badly, and too much at length.
Ten years later I was librarianing at a junior high school. Did you know that librarians learn and practice how to talk about books? We call it booktalking. Like the "elevator pitch" for your resume or the project you want funding for, but it's more whetting someone's interest for specific stories, or finding out from that one person enough of what they like so you can be a matchmaker for books and readers...
I was good at that. I miss that.