You know how you look at a title and expect that to give you a clue about the book? Especially when it comes to non-fiction? It's kind of a rule, right? Yeaaaah, not in this case. The interior of this book only has the vaguest link to an actual history of hospitality. Instead it presents some cherry-picked stories that are kind-of about hospitality, dresses them up with a wee bit of history, and then glazes everything with a truly pompous and unlikable author's voice. It's a sham and, ironically, makes you feel utterly unwelcome in the experience of reading it. Too much of it comes across as psuedo-intellectual naval-gazing (I am not reading this to psychoanalyze the author, thanks). Too little comes across as actual history about the topic. Even shooting to call it "informal" is putting a lie to the entire thing. P.S. I don't want to learn about the author's tragic childhood - especially as he comes across as a complete little sociopath. Unless you are/were one of the Great Hosts of history, your story has no place in even an informal "history of hospitality."
Why did I finish it? I kept hoping for more and I have a nasty history of spite-finishing books.