The Times’s former chief book critic, and author of “The Death of Truth,” doesn’t think in terms of genre: “J. K. Rowling’s Harry Potter books are no more Y.A. reading, to me, than John le Carré’s Smiley novels are spy stories.”

What books are on your nightstand?

Too many books for the nightstand, I’m afraid — more like two (sometimes three) tottering piles on the floor, including these: “Tyrant: Shakespeare on Politics,” by Stephen Greenblatt; “Small Country,” by Gaël Faye; “Flash: The Making of Weegee the Famous,” by Christopher Bonanos; “There There,” by Tommy Orange; “Ten Arguments for Deleting Your Social Media Accounts Right Now,” by Jaron Lanier; “Going Into Town: A Love Letter to New York,” by Roz Chast; “OK, Mr. Field,” by Katharine Kilalea; “The Soul of America: The Battle for Our Better Angels,” by Jon Meacham; “Hero of the Empire: The Boer War, a Daring Escape, and the Making of Winston Churchill,” by Candice Millard; “Barracoon: The Story of the Last ‘Black Cargo,” by Zora Neale Hurston; and “Secondhand Time: The Last of the Soviets,” by Svetlana Alexievich.

Does your appreciation of a book correlate with your interest in reviewing it? Is it easier to review books you admire or ones you think deserve criticism?

One of my favorite things, as a critic, was finding books by new writers who possessed a distinctive voice and vision, an inventive gift for storytelling. I also loved immersing myself in works of nonfiction that taught me something about the world, that made the past come alive or shed light on hidden corners of history or the news. I’d much rather share my enthusiasm for works I admired, than dissect the reasons I had problems with a book — or sift politicians’ accounts about, say, the Iraq war, for lies, omissions and spin. I felt a responsibility as a journalist to review such books, and situate them in context; but like most readers, I always looked forward to being captivated by a book. I wanted to be surprised, inspired, awed.