In this approach to writing about the internet, users are cast as victims of a techno-capitalist elite bent on rewiring the world whose missionary zeal blinds them to the collateral damage caused by their grand social experiment. In Anna Wiener’s memoir, Uncanny Valley, a naive ingenue arrives at a Silicon Valley startup with hopes of personal growth, only to become disenchanted with the industry’s messianic culture and complete disregard for social responsibility. In Hari Kunzru’s Red Pill, for instance, the protagonist is driven to a schizophrenic breakdown by a heavy dose of information overload and the subliminal influences of an alt-right internet troll.
Many books of recent vintage have addressed this conundrum by depicting social media as an alien invader of our collective consciousness, a hostile presence foisted upon us by malevolent tech overlords. Yet for many of us, social media has become an inescapable feature of reality, and no account of contemporary life can feel real and truthful if it doesn’t grapple with its impact. The majority of what we consume online is unfocused and chaotic, difficult to incorporate into any sort of linear narrative.
This is manifestly true, and it represents a challenge for contemporary writers. Someone I’d met once in New York liked my post”), Oyler issues readers something of an apology: “This is the struggle with describing social media,” she writes. After a multi-page catalog of the various newsfeed tidbits that have diverted her attention (“Marie Le Pen’s niece said France, with its Greco-Roman and Christian roots, was facing a choice between globalism and survival. Near the midpoint, the narrator emerges from a deep dive into her Twitter timeline. How do you dramatize the experience of social media? Lauren Oyler wrestles with this question in her debut novel, Fake Accounts, a book whose plot largely transpires online.
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