It seems appropriate to start a blog by reviewing a book with this title. I picked it up because I learned that the narrative was about a backlash to a gamer who is a woman in an online space. Not sure whether it’s the first post-G*merG*te novel to address this issue. The real-life actions of the backlashers in these situations are so unhinged that translating it into a novel seems like it would be hard to suspend disbelief. I didn’t feel that tug of disbelief as I read. And, to address the title, yes, the book discusses how it is impossible to not read the comments.
The omnipresent threat of physical violence or virtual harassment permeates the experiences of Divya (known throughout by her gamer tag, D1V), who is an experienced player of Reclaim the Sun, a No Man’s Sky-esque game involving interstellar exploration and combat. That means she has an online following that signs into the game just to watch her play on Glitch, a Twitch-like streaming service where she can interact with her fans in the game and in real life. As you can imagine, this level of accessibility means there are plenty of aggrieved white men who want to restrict a woman of Indian heritage from achieving any kind of joy or success. They begin with in-game harassment and abuse before escalating to doxxing, in-person threats, and violence. Their group’s name, Vox Populi, calls to mind the uneducated classicist reactionary views of the alt-right. It’s not just Divya who faces these issues, but her mother as well as her friend and manager / producer, Rebekah. Throughout the story, Rebekah also deals with her own history of abuse. Her university has not protected her from an abuser in her classes, so the experience of helping Divya navigate a harassment campaign comes with its own triggers and cautions.
The other narrative strand in the novel involves Aaron, an aspiring writer who works for an indie game developer who is a friend of his. Some of the other friends and characters in his orbit are also creatives, so you can probably imagine where things go once one of them pursues a relationship with an outside funder. Luckily for the reader, this aspect of the narrative is strengthened by the connection Aaron begins to develop with Divya from playing Reclaim the Sun with her online. It’s as big a deal as you’d think when he realizes just who she is in the game. Aaron also deals with pressure from his parents, who are from Honduras (mom) and Palestine (dad), and want a more stable future for him than writing narratives for video games can provide.
As the narratives intertwined, there were increasing references to actual games (instead of the in-universe equivalents) and I got worried it was going to veer into Ready Player One territory. That is, just a litany of “do you remember this pop culture artifact like I do?” moments. The kind of thing that feels cool maybe once but becomes cringily soul-deadening through repeated use. Smith handles such references well. I, of course, am a huge fan of both Final Fantasy VI and Chrono Trigger, so the short paragraph that mentions them to set a scene that happens in Rebekah’s apartment is just enough of a reference to make me smile as I read, but it does not become a whole thing after that. The evidence of strong writing throughout reveals why Smith doesn’t need to rely on mere regurgitation. For instance, the name of the pizzeria / arcade where Divya and Rebekah meet is named Quarter Slice Crisis. It is a delightful name that works on so many levels: it sounds like quarter-life crisis, it refers to pizza slices, it refers to quarters, and it sounds like the name of a video game. I love moments of word play like this one and I bet Smith felt pretty swell upon thinking it up, just as I’m sure he felt satisfied when balancing the awfulness of the trolls and their abuse with the light, breezy fun of the rest of the book.
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