Hardcover
Published Feb. 16, 2021 by Bloomsbury Circus.
Pierwsze 100 stron jest błyskotliwe i napisane z ciętością. Ale potem jest tylko gorzej. Jakby wszystkiego było za dużo, a autorka chce poruszyć wszystkie zagadnienia związanie internetem na raz. Wychodzi z tego wszystkiego intensywna literatura, ale dużo w niej papki i grafomani. A może miało tak być, bo internet tak wygląda wg autorki?
Felt like reading a livejournal, in a good way. The first half is a hilarious take on living inside "the portal", which feels very real, and the second half is a personal tragedy, with lately the same voice.
I don't think any book has ever made me laugh more than the first half of this one did. Lockwood has mastered the one-two punch of comedy + tragedy that makes the tonal shift of the latter half hit all that much harder (see also: Catch-22, that one episode of Futurama about Fry's dog). So many choice quotes. A masterful depiction of the inner life of someone who's way too online, and what it feels like when the IRL world forces us to log off.
Somebody cracks wise on the Internet (I know, I know, but stay with it, it’s fiction after all), and it goes viral. Interviews, guest lectures, panel discussions and world travel ensue until... Until something terrible happens, and everything collapses to the point of disruption. In Ohio, so you know it’s serious. Then, maybe, we see what matters in this big ol’ world of ours.
That’s mostly the story; as you read along, that’s what you’re reading. The story’s written in two parts: the happy part and the sad part. The happy part is happy, jouncing along with one-liners, wry observations and winsome meditations, a bit like a Steven Wright routine, except more Internetty. The sad part is sad, and, unlike the happy part, is capable of being spoiled, which cramps the review a little. It’s probably safe to point out if you’re familiar with Oscar Wilde’s (alleged!) comment about little …
Somebody cracks wise on the Internet (I know, I know, but stay with it, it’s fiction after all), and it goes viral. Interviews, guest lectures, panel discussions and world travel ensue until... Until something terrible happens, and everything collapses to the point of disruption. In Ohio, so you know it’s serious. Then, maybe, we see what matters in this big ol’ world of ours.
That’s mostly the story; as you read along, that’s what you’re reading. The story’s written in two parts: the happy part and the sad part. The happy part is happy, jouncing along with one-liners, wry observations and winsome meditations, a bit like a Steven Wright routine, except more Internetty. The sad part is sad, and, unlike the happy part, is capable of being spoiled, which cramps the review a little. It’s probably safe to point out if you’re familiar with Oscar Wilde’s (alleged!) comment about little Nell, then you’re equipped to handle the sad part, except you probably won’t laugh, but more like eye-roll, because Internet.
No One Is Talking About This is written like it’s from the Internet, which it calls the Portal. The effect is possibly supposed to be Twitter-like, but it reads more like it’s from an earlier era: Flutterby, Wonkette or — St. Berners-Lee protect us — InstaPundit. That works fine for the happy part (assuming you overlook the meme-slippage, which, if you couldn’t, they wouldn’t be memes), but it cuts into whatever it is the sad part is supposed to be doing; the pitch turns somber, but the register remains the same. Unless that’s the point: even the Portal-poisoned can recover their humanity, or maybe the hive-mind strength of the Portal can help you through tough times, something like that.
I loved the writing in this, absurd, rapid-fire, it magically captures the experience of scrolling a newsfeed - everything jumbled all together. And then shit gets real - but what is real?
This book wasn't what I expected. I was imagining something along the lines of "The Circle," where the emphasis was on technology, social media and how our relationships have become increasingly virtual/artificial. Instead, I found a story about life, family, women's rights and human rights, and the inexplicable bonds we form with others. The author knows how to pack a punch with precise words, and I found myself laughing at some of her phrasing. In many ways this was a bleak book, and yet I want to describe it as delightful.
Stream of consciousness social media snarkiness meets the Proteus syndrome.
What happens when you are caught up in a world of self-important snarky social media memes, and then you run into something that challenges all you've ever thought about the meaning of life?
This is a powerful story, at times a little uneven, well work the read, especially for people that spend a lot of time online.
The sentences and snippets clever and slippery, chock full of erudite snark. But, like a dense rich lasagna, I felt gorged too soon and could only poke over time. Her essays are rave worthy, so perhaps I’ll stick there.
Jeg er virkelig usikker. Dette har vært en unormalt krevende konsentrasjonsøvelsue på tross av korte avsnitt og ganske så enkelt, lyrisk og elokvent språk. Jeg vet at det handler om livet i en portal, og om hvordan det er å leve i nærheten av noen som har barn med proteus-syndrom, et syndrom jeg aldri har betegnelsen på før, men som jeg har sett i den strålende filmen "Elefantmannen" med Anthony Hopkins. Det litterære dilemmaet skal være gåten skjerm/virkelig liv og jeg forstår det gjennom konsentrasjon. Samtidig blir det springende, språklige hopp og sprett som jeg ofte liker hos andre forfattere, men som i denne innpakningen gjør at jeg mister nerven, det som skaper det dype engasjementet for hovedpersonene - helt til del to, hvor småbarnet med proteussyndromet tar over plassen som hovedperson - og da forstår jeg hvorfor andre liker dette så godt. For min egen del ble det nok …
Jeg er virkelig usikker. Dette har vært en unormalt krevende konsentrasjonsøvelsue på tross av korte avsnitt og ganske så enkelt, lyrisk og elokvent språk. Jeg vet at det handler om livet i en portal, og om hvordan det er å leve i nærheten av noen som har barn med proteus-syndrom, et syndrom jeg aldri har betegnelsen på før, men som jeg har sett i den strålende filmen "Elefantmannen" med Anthony Hopkins. Det litterære dilemmaet skal være gåten skjerm/virkelig liv og jeg forstår det gjennom konsentrasjon. Samtidig blir det springende, språklige hopp og sprett som jeg ofte liker hos andre forfattere, men som i denne innpakningen gjør at jeg mister nerven, det som skaper det dype engasjementet for hovedpersonene - helt til del to, hvor småbarnet med proteussyndromet tar over plassen som hovedperson - og da forstår jeg hvorfor andre liker dette så godt. For min egen del ble det nok litt for spesielt, og flinkheten i den kreative utfoldelsen blir nettopp det: For flinkt.
I am wrecked
I am hit by this like a wrecking ball. I am struggling to breathe, much less write. So I guess go read it?
You have to give this book a chance. The book is short and the writing is beautiful, so that makes it easier, but there were several moments where I was thinking - “Come on…if there is no plot, I at least need some character development.” But the book gets to its heart about halfway through. And it is worth it.
I didn't want to read about Online because I am already too Online, so I almost quit it, but then wept through the second half of the book instead.
Poetic, crass, very online right now, absurdist and attentive, I laughed until I cried, because it's also trying to be deeply serious about things we can't just keep up with through the latest memes and outrages.
TW: mentioned rape, pregnancy complications/birth defect, death of infant
2.5
This book is.... hardly a book. It's hard to talk about, because it sort of feels like trying to retell someone else's stream of consciousness. Basically- social media, right?
What I liked about this book was the writing, the style sometimes was a bit much for me, but it worked more often than it didn't. And it does feel very true to the time that we've been through, and are currently going through. And when the emotion comes through to lance the story, it does so very vivdly.
However, a lot of this just did not feel like art or a story to me. This book feels like being trapped in someone's brain during quarantine, which makes sense and does ring true, but, well... I was already trapped in my own brain during quarantine, not to mention very online the …
TW: mentioned rape, pregnancy complications/birth defect, death of infant
2.5
This book is.... hardly a book. It's hard to talk about, because it sort of feels like trying to retell someone else's stream of consciousness. Basically- social media, right?
What I liked about this book was the writing, the style sometimes was a bit much for me, but it worked more often than it didn't. And it does feel very true to the time that we've been through, and are currently going through. And when the emotion comes through to lance the story, it does so very vivdly.
However, a lot of this just did not feel like art or a story to me. This book feels like being trapped in someone's brain during quarantine, which makes sense and does ring true, but, well... I was already trapped in my own brain during quarantine, not to mention very online the entire time and so brushing by other people's quarantine brains constantly. Therefore, this book doesn't really do anything for or to me. It doesn't feel so much like a reflection or a message on any of this than it does regurgitation.
As for being a story or not, there is a plot here, and sometimes it's interesting, but it also take such a long time to get to anything that looks even slightly like plot that it barely made a dent on the over all reading experience. And that also meant that the emotional pay off didn't feel like it had any real meaning tied to it, or weight.
I know people like this for the experimental quality, and for showing life online so well- but it's just too on the nose for me to be anything but someone basically blogging at me on a printed page. I've seen more compelling, nuanced, funny posts about these same topics on the actual internet, and I think this is a very middling way of approaching them.
This book is wonderful. I would possibly read this again. The language was poetic and vibrant.
