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briandead's review against another edition
4.0
You thought the internet was supposed to be an enlightened platform for free speech, enabling massive beneficial social and political change? Think again. It was, of course, created as a defense-related project. It is, of course, funded by wealthy venture capitalists and driven by the appropriation of its users creative output to make money. It will, of course, never be anything else, but at least I Hate the Internet allows you to believe, for a moment, that this is an outrage and before long the world will see that and change. Reading this book is a kind of visceral release, providing justification for every quietly-held theory you've ever had about why the internet is bad, and the personalities behind it are even worse. But in the end, it is a creation of humanity, and is it exactly what we deserve?
heatherreadsbooks's review against another edition
3.0
At first I wasn't sure about the style and then I inexplicably found myself hooked on the sarc, the side notes, and the frequent deviations into Jack Kirby.
quintusmarcus's review against another edition
1.0
This book is so juvenile, so crude, so poorly written, and so completely terrible that it does not deserve the time spent to think critically about it and review it. The target of the author's satire is unquestionably deserving: such a pity then that this cretinous writer is too incompetent to capitalize on the rich target.
otterno11's review against another edition
5.0
"Somewhere along the way, Americans turned freedom of expression and freedom of speech into copy pasting the labor of others for the profit of the already rich."
A razor sharp satire of the current hour, Jarett Kobek’s searing and hilarious screed against the hypocrisy, delusion, and dangers of the tech boom is a refreshing, if bleak, exploration of exactly what it means to live under the shadow of the internet. It rings so true, and yet is so funny, going off on so many interesting, disturbing tangents, it feels like it could have sprung only from the internet itself. “I hate the internet” might just be the most illuminating book I’ve read on the corrupt, dark, reactionary heart the fuels the startup bro culture of Silicon Valley, weaned on Ayn Rand and the stolen labor of the masses. I read this weeks ago, before the horror Election Day, but I should have known what was looming after taking in Kobek’s deep understanding of how the internet has failed us, as Facebook still does not distinguish between fake and real news and the alt right continues to infect the online world.
Kobek writes in a deadpan, technical style explaining the each bizarre conceit of contemporary society (sports, fantasy movies) as though it were the backwards world of a quaint and irrational culture, I feel that Kobek has created a novel that could truly be used as a time capsule to capture just what things were like in this time and place. Bracketed by a loose plot involving a pretentious comic book artist with a silly, affected transatlantic accent and the unfortunate position of being a woman who publicly shares her opinion online in a society that hates women, Kobek takes on a variety of targets with a verve and cheek that never takes itself too seriously. In particular through a minor character, the autobiographical Turkish-American writer who finds himself ranting to the audience a lot, Kobek captures that overwhelming excess of information to be taken with a grain of salt (Tolkien is for morons), weird factoids (the word “polyamory” was coined by a woman who tortured goats to create “unicorns”), and the private information of everyone you know.
Here I am, a guy who, like the creators of the internet, lacks any eumelanin in the basale stratum of epidermis, providing unpaid content to boost the revenue of a social media site owned by “an unprofitable website dedicated to the destruction of the publishing industry,” and frequented both by fans of “good novels,” crappy science fiction, and self-described “bad novels” like this one. Going off on so many tangents, so many asides, yet stringing each of these disparate parts into a web of absurd truth, it feels like Kobek takes the internet to task for all the right reasons. Like the internet itself, Kobek pastes together a meandering but concise screed against the idea that the internet can change, in any way, the sexist, racist, homophobic, capitalist culture that prioritizes money, that pernicious fiction, above all else. Secretly, or not so secretly, all of this unprecedented access to information, connection, culture, exists as nothing else has to advertise to us and to harvest our productivity for profit.
Most of all, Kobek comes off not as curmudgeonly tech hating Luddite raging against “kids these days,” but as someone weaned and surrounded by the rarefied world of the information age which has, for better or worse, taken the reigns of our culture, though writing with a sharp, biting, and justified anger. Whether through BuzzFeed listicles, the hideous bloviating hatred of Reddit, or the mindless navel gazing of Facebook he understands the appeal and the costs of social media. There’s a reason, of course, the likes of Twitter or Reddit cannot, and in fact, have no desire to combat the festering pits of hatred that metastasize inside them- all content, every inflammatory flame war, death threat, hashtag generates money. There’s no incentive to ban the white supremacists, the MRAs, the “deplorables” any more than in promoting healthier alternatives- attention creates profit, and everyone is just feeding the machine. In the end, I hate the internet, in spite of its biting cynicism, is a refreshing and hilarious takedown of the technology that we were sorely lacking. Now, more than ever, the irreverent stance taken by Kobek in this novel may be just what we need to survive.
A razor sharp satire of the current hour, Jarett Kobek’s searing and hilarious screed against the hypocrisy, delusion, and dangers of the tech boom is a refreshing, if bleak, exploration of exactly what it means to live under the shadow of the internet. It rings so true, and yet is so funny, going off on so many interesting, disturbing tangents, it feels like it could have sprung only from the internet itself. “I hate the internet” might just be the most illuminating book I’ve read on the corrupt, dark, reactionary heart the fuels the startup bro culture of Silicon Valley, weaned on Ayn Rand and the stolen labor of the masses. I read this weeks ago, before the horror Election Day, but I should have known what was looming after taking in Kobek’s deep understanding of how the internet has failed us, as Facebook still does not distinguish between fake and real news and the alt right continues to infect the online world.
Kobek writes in a deadpan, technical style explaining the each bizarre conceit of contemporary society (sports, fantasy movies) as though it were the backwards world of a quaint and irrational culture, I feel that Kobek has created a novel that could truly be used as a time capsule to capture just what things were like in this time and place. Bracketed by a loose plot involving a pretentious comic book artist with a silly, affected transatlantic accent and the unfortunate position of being a woman who publicly shares her opinion online in a society that hates women, Kobek takes on a variety of targets with a verve and cheek that never takes itself too seriously. In particular through a minor character, the autobiographical Turkish-American writer who finds himself ranting to the audience a lot, Kobek captures that overwhelming excess of information to be taken with a grain of salt (Tolkien is for morons), weird factoids (the word “polyamory” was coined by a woman who tortured goats to create “unicorns”), and the private information of everyone you know.
Here I am, a guy who, like the creators of the internet, lacks any eumelanin in the basale stratum of epidermis, providing unpaid content to boost the revenue of a social media site owned by “an unprofitable website dedicated to the destruction of the publishing industry,” and frequented both by fans of “good novels,” crappy science fiction, and self-described “bad novels” like this one. Going off on so many tangents, so many asides, yet stringing each of these disparate parts into a web of absurd truth, it feels like Kobek takes the internet to task for all the right reasons. Like the internet itself, Kobek pastes together a meandering but concise screed against the idea that the internet can change, in any way, the sexist, racist, homophobic, capitalist culture that prioritizes money, that pernicious fiction, above all else. Secretly, or not so secretly, all of this unprecedented access to information, connection, culture, exists as nothing else has to advertise to us and to harvest our productivity for profit.
Most of all, Kobek comes off not as curmudgeonly tech hating Luddite raging against “kids these days,” but as someone weaned and surrounded by the rarefied world of the information age which has, for better or worse, taken the reigns of our culture, though writing with a sharp, biting, and justified anger. Whether through BuzzFeed listicles, the hideous bloviating hatred of Reddit, or the mindless navel gazing of Facebook he understands the appeal and the costs of social media. There’s a reason, of course, the likes of Twitter or Reddit cannot, and in fact, have no desire to combat the festering pits of hatred that metastasize inside them- all content, every inflammatory flame war, death threat, hashtag generates money. There’s no incentive to ban the white supremacists, the MRAs, the “deplorables” any more than in promoting healthier alternatives- attention creates profit, and everyone is just feeding the machine. In the end, I hate the internet, in spite of its biting cynicism, is a refreshing and hilarious takedown of the technology that we were sorely lacking. Now, more than ever, the irreverent stance taken by Kobek in this novel may be just what we need to survive.
tomescritt's review against another edition
4.0
Angry Vonnegut snarls at tech. Brilliant aphoristic turns of phrase even if it isn't quite coherent.
mlytylr's review against another edition
3.0
yknow when someone is mostly right about something, but is mostly right in an obnoxious way, so you don't want to admit that they're mostly right?
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