Our generation seems to be facing a crisis of critique. We want to know what's best, we want to know where to eat and what movie to see, but we've begun to forget that real opinion, real critique, must always come out of an absence of voices–from a singular subjective viewpoint. You cannot aggregate taste. But in the flood of rating systems and collectivized percentage values, which guide us toward TV shows on Netflix or songs on iTunes, we don't register the loss of that less aggressive suggestion system we always relied on before: face-to-face encounters and singular critics.
Michael Harris’s The End of Absence

















