When Taylor Swift dropped her highly anticipated 11th studio album, “The Tortured Poets Department,” last Friday, the professional critic class was quick to express disappointment and pan the “Midnights” sequel as a miss.

The New York Times review declared Swift “could use an editor,” effectively arguing the sprawling 31-track double album could have been curtailed. The New Yorker contended the album “suffers from being too long and too familiar,” adding that it suggests “after a decade, her partnership with [producer Jack Antonoff] has perhaps run its course.” Rolling Stone also knocked Swift’s work with Antonoff. The album “finds their collaborative well completely drained,” it said. “At a certain point, it begins to feel as though Swift and Antonoff are simply going through the motions while running in place.” On and on it went.

While some reviews did laud Swift’s latest offering, the album failed to dazzle a healthy branch of critics. Had Swift’s run as a brilliant pop star finally run its course? Was it downhill from here? That seemed like a possibility, after reading the withering chorus of criticism.

It was with those reviews in mind that I hit play last Friday afternoon and visited “The Tortured Poets Department” for myself. And, after I rushed through the 120-some minutes of personal storytelling and synth-pop, I found myself in agreement with the critics. Initially, “Tortured Poets” failed to resonate with me. It did, indeed, feel a little tired. As a life-long fan of Swift’s music, I wasn’t impressed.

One week later, my view of the album has entirely reversed. After spending more time with the two-hour sonic feast, more methodically touring through its subtleties and nuances, I am ready to declare that it is one of Swift’s best works yet. Anecdotally, it seems others are also identifying with this experience, initially expressing tepid feelings toward the album, and then realizing after a few listens it has really grown on them.