This is the book that made Lockwood unavoidable. I love her.

A formally restless novel that drags the language of the internet into literary fiction. The first half unfolds in shards—posts, jokes, outrage cycles, collective hallucination—capturing the psychic texture of online life. Then, the novel pivots into grief and care, and all that noise assembles into something fully formed.

What gives the book its force isn’t the internet satire (though it’s definitely there, Lockwood was a prolific OG tweeter), but an insistence that digital life and embodied suffering aren’t opposites. They coexist, bleed into each other, and shape how meaning is made.

A book about attention, love, language, and what happens when irony fails.