![]() ![]() Patricia Lockwood, an early master of so-called Weird Twitter and an accomplished writer in virtually every genre, thinks that most would-be chroniclers of life online are failing. ![]() ![]() The question is not whether to fictionalize it but how to incorporate its distractions and derangements into a novel that is not hellish to read. Contemporary fiction full of telegrams and analog phones would smack of contrivance and cutesy nostalgia, like TV shows in which the characters show up at each other’s houses to stage confrontations in person, instead of just texting angry emojis as actual people increasingly do. ![]() The internet scoops out the mind and mashes it into wet pulp, which is to say that it is the opposite of a novel, at least when the novel is working.īut the task of literature is to reflect (if never just replicate) even unliterary or anti-literary realities, on pain of irrelevance. Setting aside paper’s many sentimental attractions (gluey smell, physical heft, ample space for scribbling), to which I will admit I am susceptible, to read on what is so hideously called an “e-reader” is to concede that literature is continuous with the internet, that non-place where people go to look up one word, only to resurface lifetimes later, dazed and dead-eyed, twenty minutes into a video of someone popping pimples with a special implement. The closest thing I have to an inviolable principle is that it is a sacrilege to read a good book on a screen. No One Is Talking About This by Patricia Lockwood. ![]()
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