I particularly like her remarks, quoted by him, on Forster's notions of himself as a kind of anti-critic:
In her first novel, White Teeth, she called tradition "a sinister analgesic", as deeply embedded and degenerate as dental caries. She has changed her mind about that, because for her, as the title of her collection implies, criticism is a record of the mind's growth and its game-playing versatility. Her review of a collection of EM Forster's radio book chat exactly defines Smith's newly congenial attitude to the literary past. Forster made her the gift of his talent – she used Howards End as the model for her most recent novel On Beauty – and she is repaying his generosity, just as he settled his debts to his predecessors in those broadcast talks.
He refused, Smith notes, to call what he did "literary criticism, or even reviewing"; he was making "recommendations", like a "chatty librarian leaning over the counter". His modesty was "peculiarly English", a sly way of appeasing the country's hostility to culture. Smith has fewer misgivings about her own impassioned intelligence, but she is engaged in the same activity.
She also suggests in that particular review (yes, you can read it in full online) that 'Forster's ideal reader was a kind of projection, and not one entirely sympathetic to him.' Tasty stuff.