Uncanny Valley: A Memoir

Wiener’s narration acknowledges the immense privilege and freedom of her position: “I had reached the promised land for millennial knowledge work […] And I knew, even then, that I would regret it” (185). The rhythm and sensation of her daily work begins to resemble that of her leisure time, both informed by constant stimulation and the associative, compulsive thought patterns of the internet. In a novel stylistic turn, Wiener’s prose mimics the experience of reading and interacting in a space “sick with user-generated opinions and misinformation” while feeling she exists in “a million places at once” (186). Through a poetic litany of search terms, she gives the reader a visceral sense of the internet’s “collective howl” as she, along with her peers—an entire generation of internet users—“[give] themselves away at every opportunity” (187). Wiener feels her own brain as a sort of “trash vortex” devoid of original thought. Turning to contemporary literature for relief, she recognizes hallmarks of similarly internet-addled brains, a desperate, searching, trivia-studded quality of the writing lacking in deeper meaning. In contrast to the wealth and privilege acknowledged at the opening of the chapter, Wiener ends by emphasizing how empty her emotional and intellectual life feels at this time: “Just me and my id, hanging out, clicking” (190).