I didn't copy out Paradise Lost with the intent of commenting on it critically. I didn't intend to copy it out at all. Nonetheless, the review finds my lack of interest in critiquing the poem to be a disappointment. Of course, I have been, all my reading life, disappointed with this very lack in myself. It is exactly why I have avoided writing about the books I read: because whatever I write is all about the flotsam that happens to be drifting idly around my own head. This is not only unprofessional but self-focused in a way that undoubtedly irritates real students of literature. As it should, I'm sure.
That doesn't stop me from feeling glum and cast down, however . . . and very unsure about the wisdom of trying to publish a second reading memoir.