{"id":143780,"date":"2020-03-25T19:25:40","date_gmt":"2020-03-25T23:25:40","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=143780"},"modified":"2020-03-25T19:25:40","modified_gmt":"2020-03-25T23:25:40","slug":"2020-whiting-awards-jia-tolentino-nonfiction","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2020\/03\/25\/2020-whiting-awards-jia-tolentino-nonfiction\/","title":{"rendered":"Jia Tolentino, Nonfiction"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"\"<\/a>

Jia Tolentino. Photo: Elena Mudd.<\/p><\/div>\n

Jia Tolentino is a staff writer at The New Yorker<\/em>, formerly the deputy editor at Jezebel<\/em> and a contributing editor at The Hairpin<\/em>. She grew up in Texas, went to the University of Virginia, and got her M.F.A. in fiction from the University of Michigan. Her book of essays, Trick Mirror: Reflections on Self-Delusion<\/em> (Random House, 2019), was a New York Times<\/em> best seller. Her work has appeared in the New York Times<\/em>, The New York Times Magazine<\/em>, Time<\/em>, and other publications. She lives in Brooklyn.<\/p>\n

*<\/p>\n

An excerpt from\u00a0<\/em>Trick Mirror:<\/em><\/p>\n

The call of self-expression turned the village of the internet into a city, which expanded at time-lapse speed, social connections bristling like neurons in every direction. At ten, I was clicking around a web ring to check out other Angelfire sites full of animal GIF<\/small>s and Smash Mouth trivia. At twelve, I was writing five hundred words a day on a public LiveJournal. At fifteen, I was uploading photos of myself in a miniskirt on Myspace. By twenty-five, my job was to write things that would attract, ideally, a hundred thousand strangers per post. Now I\u2019m thirty, and most of my life is inextricable from the internet, and its mazes of incessant forced connection\u2014this feverish, electric, unlivable hell. <\/p>\n

As with the transition between Web 1.0 and Web 2.0, the curdling of the social internet happened slowly and then all at once. The tipping point, I\u2019d guess, was around 2012. People were losing excitement about the internet, starting to articulate a set of new truisms. Facebook had become tedious, trivial, exhausting. Instagram seemed better, but would soon reveal its underlying function as a three-ring circus of happiness and popularity and success. Twitter, for all its discursive promise, was where everyone tweeted complaints at airlines and bitched about articles that had been commissioned to make people bitch. The dream of a better, truer self on the internet was slipping away. Where we had once been free to be ourselves online, we were now chained to ourselves online, and this made us self-conscious. Platforms that promised connection began inducing mass alienation. The freedom promised by the internet started to seem like something whose greatest potential lay in the realm of misuse.<\/p>\n

Even as we became increasingly sad and ugly on the internet, the mirage of the better online self continued to glimmer. As a medium, the internet is defined by a built-in performance incentive. In real life, you can walk around living life and be visible to other people. But you can\u2019t just walk around and be visible on the internet\u2014for anyone to see you, you have to act. You have to communicate in order to maintain an internet presence. And, because the internet\u2019s central platforms are built around personal profiles, it can seem\u2014first at a mechanical level, and later on as an encoded instinct\u2014like the main purpose of this communication is to make yourself look good. Online reward mechanisms beg to substitute for offline ones, and then overtake them. This is why everyone tries to look so hot and well-traveled on Instagram; this is why everyone seems so smug and triumphant on Facebook; this is why, on Twitter, making a righteous political statement has come to seem, for many people, like a political good in itself.<\/p>\n

Mass media always determines the shape of politics and culture. The Bush era is inextricable from the failures of cable news; the executive overreaches of the Obama years were obscured by the internet\u2019s magnification of personality and performance; Trump\u2019s rise to power is inseparable from the existence of social networks that must continually aggravate their users in order to continue making money. But lately I\u2019ve been wondering how everything got so intimately<\/em> terrible, and why, exactly, we keep playing along. How did a huge number of people begin spending the bulk of our disappearing free time in an openly torturous environment? How did the internet get so bad, so confining, so inescapably personal, so politically determinative\u2014and why are all those questions asking the same thing?<\/p>\n

As we move about the internet, our personal data is tracked, recorded, and resold by a series of corporations\u2014a regime of involuntary technological surveillance, which subconsciously decreases our resistance to the practice of voluntary<\/em> self-surveillance on social media. If we think about buying something, it follows us around everywhere. We can, and probably do, limit our online activity to websites that further reinforce our own sense of identity, each of us reading things written for people just like us. On social media platforms, everything we see corresponds to our conscious choices and algorithmically guided preferences, and all news and culture and interpersonal interaction are filtered through the home base of the profile. The everyday madness perpetuated by the internet is the madness of this architecture, which positions personal identity as the center of the universe. It\u2019s as if we\u2019ve been placed on a lookout that oversees the entire world and given a pair of binoculars that makes everything look like our own reflection. Through social media, many people have quickly come to view all new information as a sort of direct commentary on who they are<\/em>.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Read an excerpt from \u2018Trick Mirror,\u2019 by Jia Tolentino, winner of a 2020 Whiting Award for nonfiction.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1816,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[62796],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-143780","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-whiting-awards-2020"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\nWhiting Awards 2020: Jia Tolentino, Nonfiction<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"Read an excerpt from \u2018Trick Mirror,\u2019 by Jia Tolentino, winner of a 2020 Whiting Award for nonfiction.\" \/>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2020\/03\/25\/2020-whiting-awards-jia-tolentino-nonfiction\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" 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