So I had sort of an interesting experience with Friedlander, by which I mean that I initially read this book in 2011, when I was first seriously diving into the history of fine art photography, and I thought it was literally the worst photography monograph I'd ever read. I had a similarly negative reaction to Duane Michals, Larry Clark, and a few others, but Friedlander was the epitome (to me) of the deadpan, badly-composed, wildly overrated work created by a group of photographers that were only famous because John Szarkowski (the extremely and tragically influential curator at MoMA) was a fan.
I can't recall any other case where I so completely changed my mind after just a few years; I think that doing my own photography had the strongest effect, where I could suddenly see the subtlety of what Friedlander was trying to do. Basically Friedlander is the equivalent of Serragghia or some ridiculously obscure wine that only oenophiles are into, and that only oenophiles can really explain the greatness of; his compositions often look banal or 'wrong' initially but there's almost always a subtle beauty underlying his work, a vague hint of eleven-dimensional chess, etc. Friedlander is definitely the polar opposite of someone like Ansel Adams, who is appealing to almost everyone, and also has some depth (a few photos are actually really good) but not too much depth, whereas Friedlander has ridiculous depth, and is a "photographer's photographer" in the sense that I don't think anyone who isn't really interested in photography would truly love his work.