“The prolonged, indiscriminate reviewing of books is a quite exceptionally thankless, irritating and exhausting job. It not only involves praising trash but constantly inventing reactions towards books about which one has no spontaneous feelings whatever. The reviewer, jaded though he may be, is professionally interested in books, and out of the thousands that appear annually, there are probably fifty or a hundred that he would enjoy writing about.

… Seeing the results, people sometimes suggest that the solution lies in getting book reviewing out of the hands of hacks. Books on specialized subjects out to be dealt with by experts, and on the other hand a good deal of reviewing, especially of novels, might well be done by amateurs. Nearly every book is capable or arousing passionate feeling, if it is only a passionate dislike, in some or other reader, whose ideas about it would surely be worth more than that of a bored professional. But, unfortunately, as every editor knows, that kind of thing is very difficult to organize.”

George Orwell, “Confessions of a Book Reviewer.” Tribune (1946)

Orwell, one would presume, would view aggregate amateur review as a boon, not a threat.