Wiener was, and maybe still is, one of us; far from seeking to disabuse civic-minded techno-skeptics of our views, she is here to fill out our worst-case scenarios with shrewd insight and literary detail ... Wiener is a droll yet gentle guide ... Wiener frequently emphasizes that, at the time, she didn’t realize all these buoyant 25-year-olds in performance outerwear were leading mankind down a treacherous path. She also sort of does know all along. Luckily, the tech industry controls the means of production for excuses to justify a fascination with its shiny surfaces and twisted logic ... It’s possible to create a realistic portrait of contemporary San Francisco by simply listing all the harebrained new-money antics and 'mindful' hippie-redux principles that flourish there. All you have to do after that is juxtapose them with the effects of the city’s rocket-ship rents: a once-lively counterculture gasping for air and a 'concentration of public pain' shameful and shocking even to a native New Yorker. Wiener deploys this strategy liberally, with adroit specificity and arch timing. But the real strength of Uncanny Valley comes from her careful parsing of the complex motivations and implications that fortify this new surreality at every level, from the individual body to the body politic.
... a different sort of Silicon Valley narrative, a literary-minded outsider’s insider account of an insulated world that isn’t as insular or distinctive as it and we assume. Wiener is our guide to a realm whose denizens have been as in thrall to a dizzying sense of momentum as consumers have been ... Complicity is Wiener’s theme, and her method: She’s an acute observer of tech’s shortcomings, but she’s especially good at conveying the mind of a subject whose chief desire is to not know too much. Through her story, we begin to perceive how much tech owes its power, and the problems that come with it, to contented ignorance ... For all her caustic insight and droll portraiture, Wiener is on an earnest quest likely to resonate with a public that has been sleepwalking through tech’s gradual reshaping of society ... Wiener is wittily merciless in portraying how susceptible she was to 'the sense of ownership and belonging, the easy identity, the all-consuming feeling of affiliation' that start-up culture promotes ... Her real feat is exposing her own persistent failure to register the big picture.
For a twentysomething memoir, Uncanny Valley is remarkably chaste. Although there are hints of San Francisco’s legendary perversions, our otherwise curious narrator never dabbles ... Throughout the book, she declines to use the proper names of companies and brands. This works to defamiliarize tech monopolies that we take for granted (Google is 'a search-engine giant down in Mountain View,' Facebook 'the social network everyone hated'), but it sometimes goes too far ... Instead of limping back to the literary world full-time after the snack thing, Wiener returned as an author and a West Coast contributing writer for The New Yorker, cartoon headshot sketch and all ... These details belong to a story that Uncanny Valley doesn’t quite want to tell. If selling out is 'our generation’s premier aspiration,' why does she play down her success? ... But without the frisson of shame, Uncanny Valley would be a completely different book, and not nearly as good. This story isn’t about the history of the region or labor in the tech industry; it’s a self-conscious account of how it feels to climb up near the top of the barrel, where you occasionally lose sight of what it’s like for the crabs down below.
[Wiener] was seen as dispensable; her memoir is anything but. If Silicon Valley had seen her potential, she would not have become one of the finest, most assured writers about the internet today. I read it in one sitting, overcome with the eerie sensation that my own life was being explained to me ... The experience of onboarding is smoother in this memoir than most ... I had the distinct feeling that everything she said applied to me ... The seductiveness of Wiener’s writing is the feeling that we’re as smart as she is. This book is proof enough that we are not. But it taps into our lived experience: We all use the internet for the majority of our waking hours, and have no idea how it really works ... Wiener is not drawn in by hyperbole or flashiness. She is not preoccupied with making herself look good or clairvoyant, refusing the temptation to rise to the tenor of jeremiad. It’s clear how easily this book could slip into parody, and she does document the idiosyncrasies of her colleagues, and the California-centric rituals of technocrats,, but never without centering herself in the narrative as complicit or jealous ... She excels at occupying several points of view all at once, a skill that results in a very charming and effective stylistic move where she positions ideas from a 3-D standpoint.
Compared to the most sensational details on companies like WeWork or Theranos that have come out in recent years, there is nothing shocking or revelatory in Wiener’s account of startup life and culture. That’s also maybe the point. Rather than shocking and lurid details, recognition and familiarity play a key role in the experience of Uncanny Valley ... Deprecation, aimed at both the industry and the author herself, also plays a key role throughout the work. Certain paragraphs are so caustic they feel designed to be hastily photographed via mobile phone, dropped in group messages or social media feeds ... It’s undeniably enjoyable, but there is something indulgent about this sort of self-flagellation ... Luckily, Wiener offers us more than eloquent masochism. Uncanny Valley also provides precise depiction of cultural moments and movements in Silicon Valley: discrimination scandals, the obsession with optimization, data privacy concerns, the increased focus (if not clarity) on the question of content moderation. Wiener has a knack for perceiving abstract, structural issues and conveying them in specific and concrete language ... By way of all this careful observation, analysis, and biting sarcasm, we arrive at a detailed portrait of Weiner herself as someone inquisitive, tender, funny, and contradictory ... Uncanny Valley is, ultimately, a memoir, and a well-written and engaging one at that. It feels greedy to want more than it gives, to want contradictions resolved to a clear path forward. Nevertheless, this is part of what I felt upon finishing: what now? What next?
Wiener shines when she turns her incisive observations on the many entitled men running amok in Silicon Valley ... an engaging summary of every terrible thing you’ve heard about start-ups ... One of the more insightful analyses Wiener makes is on the degradation of language that incubated in the open-office plans of app developers and has now spilled over into the outside world ... The uncanny valley of the title is a clever misnomer. We aren’t unsettled by computer-generated humanoids here but humans willingly transforming themselves into workaholic quasi-cyborgs ... Wiener is perceptive, inquisitive, and frankly too smart for so much of the bullshit described that it’s still hard to understand why she lasted so long. One wonders how she was so easily seduced. But then again, weren’t we all?
...the book’s first half unfolds like an exquisitely curated Tumblr blog, with a scroll of beautifully juxtaposed snapshots of the young, newly wealthy and utterly absurd ... It’s in the second half that the book feels frustratingly, and at times startlingly, thin. Wiener’s admission that she did not like to think about the societal implications of her choices is inadequate, and the degree to which aesthetic judgments supersede ethical or moral considerations grows wearying ... I found myself struggling to swallow bitter ironies about human suffering as eagerly as I had witty remarks about bespoke cocktails and startup office furnishings. The amoral cocoon within which Wiener and the rest of the tech industry reside is pierced with greater frequency as the book proceeds towards the November 2016 election ... the book feels less like an outsider’s account and more like an insider’s unwitting confession.
...beautifully obsered ... Wiener lavishes her most meticulous observational powers on the many older (and sometimes younger) people she views as enviably sure of themselves and their place in the world ... Someone like Wiener makes for a good spy in the house of tech, although most of what she has to say isn’t particularly revelatory. The Valley’s culture has been exceedingly well-documented ... What Wiener excels at is not argument or analysis—the articulation of deep patterns or historical shifts in power and attention—but the texture of life for people in a particular and pivotal time and place ... The spongelike quality of the Wiener of Uncanny Valley makes her a frustrating memoir narrator, however. While the book is never dull, it often feels as if it’s idling overlong in front of an interesting view. It has a vagueness at its center that’s only exacerbated by Wiener’s hesitation to use proper names.
Wiener’s book transcends the model of a tech-work memoir; ultimately, she’s chronicling her interior climate in opposition to quotidian surroundings that she finds essentially bizarre ... Uncanny Valley is instantly mesmerizing ... Her book mines questions of self-definition within the context of the technology industry in San Francisco ... Throughout the memoir, Wiener sustains a piercing tone of crisp, arch observation. It’s revelatory to see her navigate the subjects one generally reads about in newspaper headlines, about sexism at Google or the unregulated forums behind events such as Pizzagate ... Her memoir encapsulates our moment’s moral — and stylistic — uncertainty about techno-libertarianism, utopianism and startup jargon. Is this how we want the world to look and sound? ... I’m glad a lover of literary fiction unleashed herself from customer success management to reporting on technology.
... extraordinary ... Wiener’s storytelling mode is keen and dry, her sentences spare — perfectly suited to let a steady thrum of dread emerge ... Early on in the book, she refers to 'an online superstore' and 'a social network everyone said they hated,' later swapping out the indefinite articles for definite ones, effectively showing how the internet behemoths have eliminated their competition.
... [a] compelling memoir-ethnography of Silicon Valley ... Wiener reflects, though never absolving herself of blame or fault. Her book is an attempt to unravel the mythology that has insulated big tech from meaningful assessment or oversight, but the book leaves readers with more questions than answers ... The future is a dark, unsettling frontier, and Uncanny Valley is a call to vigilance and action.
... remarkable ... Wiener provides an achingly relatable and sharply focused firsthand account of how a set of 'ambitious, aggressive, arrogant young men from America’s soft suburbs,' backed by vast capital investments and armed with data analytics technology, helped to refashion not just our economy but also our culture, aesthetics, and politics with the new digital tools they produced ... Wiener’s book, while not explicitly political, gives us a road map to the ways we can turn our growing dissatisfaction with what tech has wrought into the backbone of an ideology ... The big-picture takeaways of Uncanny Valley are compelling, though they are not Wiener’s alone ... But the literary texture of Wiener’s narrative makes it particularly valuable as a primary document of this moment. Her voice, alternating between cool and detached and impassioned and earnest, boasts an observational precision that is devastating. It is whip smart and searingly funny, too. The book contains a six-page tour de force on Internet addiction, algorithms, and all of the attendant feelings of dread that is one of the best summations of an average day online I’ve ever read ... There is also a powerful and often surprising combination of joy and ambivalence running through Wiener’s story ... That Wiener squeezes all of this into some 275 pages is quite a feat ... Still, it’s impossible to leave this book not feeling drained spiritually and politically, even as its wealth of knowledge helps orient the reader in a world so closely tied to the ups and downs of Bay Area billionaires. Throughout Uncanny Valley, there is a sense of crushing defeat ... like a lot of recent books on the hellscape that is the Internet, her personal story gives us little room to imagine how we all might escape this new, malignant, corporate-controlled space, where data collection, advertising, and surveillance are the status quo ... The clarifying anger that infuses her book also points to the larger politics that we will need if we are to make the Internet a more humane gathering place ... may tell the story, from one woman’s perspective, of how the tech industry has come close to ruining the world. But Wiener’s book is also proof that it hasn’t succeeded yet.
The entrenched sexism of Silicon Valley is one of several endemic ills that Anna Wiener examines at unsparingly close range in Uncanny Valley, her absorbing, unsettling, gimlet-eyed memoir of time served in tech ... the world the tech bros are molding is the one we’re all living in. The most valuable question Wiener asks is why we are allowing that to happen.
...biting and funny ... But though Wiener’s feelings of betrayal are strong, Uncanny Valley is not an embittered tell-all about San Francisco start-up culture. She doesn’t give the names of the two main companies where she worked for four years, as if she’d choke to utter them, though she reveals enough to make them identifiable ... Wiener understands that all those brand names bring their own emotional weather, and in this book, she’s determined to create her own turbulence ... Wiener’s style — informed, Twitter-pithy, at least a little exasperated — would read as mere snark if she weren’t such a gifted and witty observer ... The funny-angry voice that Wiener brings to Uncanny Valley has emerged as the prevailing tone of millennial writing and commentary — the defeated yet defiant cry in the face of being sold a bill of goods. It’s palpable in the deadpan prose of Sally Rooney’s novels ... Uncanny Valley ought to be read by policymakers just as closely as any set of statistics.
The quality of Wiener’s on-the-ground observations, coupled with acuity she brings to understanding the psychology at work, makes the book illuminating on a page-by-page basis. It is as though Wiener found herself under a spell that separated her from herself, a temporary state she still finds a little baffling ... Nonetheless, Uncanny Valley is a kind of compassionate condemnation. Wiener extends great empathy to the people she once moved among ... But that empathy makes the portrait all the more damning. These men consider themselves masters of the universe, but Wiener reveals their flaws and frailty.
... almost the opposite of a tell-all. It withholds a lot — mostly the names of people and companies — and replaces them with generic formulations: 'an app for coupon-clipping,' 'a search-engine giant down in Mountain View.' It’s as if the book is trying to switch our brains back to factory settings ... Reading Uncanny Valley felt like getting put on airplane mode, blocked from making relevant connections...Around these gaps, Wiener’s book is studded with sharp assessments ... Wiener has a gift for channeling Silicon Valley’s unsettling idea of perfection and for reminding us of its allure ... a bildungsroman that doubles as a comedy of remarriage: Years after leaving it, Wiener gets back together with the literary world, publishing an essay about this West Coast misadventure in n+1, landing a gig with the New Yorker and producing this very book
... absorbing, fast-paced ... Wiener's descriptions of Silicon Valley expose an industry in which sexism and misogyny are commonplace, where work and personal identities blur and overlap as people become indistinguishable from their brands ... She excels when challenging the tech industry: questioning its reluctance to diversify and refusal to hold itself accountable for digital surveillance ... Wiener is a talented writer, and her story will engage fellow millennials who have found themselves obsessively refreshing social media or mindlessly scrolling to pass the time. Insight into the history of Silicon Valley, and the ideologies transforming society, are a bonus that will ensure the book's longevity.
Wiener is a keen social observer and scene-setter. She has an eye for telling details about people and places, and is especially attuned to the hypocrisies of hubristic young men ... She elegantly captures the vertigo of spending most of her waking hours online ... Wiener is also a witty and stylish writer ... She can distil an interaction or even a whole culture into a quotable line or two...But these observations sometimes substitute for deeper analysis; Wiener drops tantalising morsels and immediately moves on ... As a memoirist, Wiener maintains a cool distance from the reader. Her account of discovering a boyfriend’s affair – surely a traumatic, or at the very least emotional, event – is curiously dispassionate ... Wiener never names the tech companies she works for or the apps she uses, instead giving them creative epithets...At first, I found this decision provocative and funny; by the 300th page, it was tiresome and occasionally confusing. (Maybe everyone in San Francisco knows the location of Google’s headquarters, but I had to look it up) ... I sometimes felt like I was reading a series of well-written in-jokes I didn’t quite get ... I didn’t want to be learning, two-thirds of the way through the book, that she meets many people with similar-looking eyeglasses. I didn’t want to still be guessing, on page 280, what the 'highly litigious Seattle-based conglomerate' is. It’s pleasant, for a while, to coast along on the charm of Wiener’s prose – but by the end, her charm had begun to cloy.
Wiener focuses on the startup climate as a whole—giving an insider’s view of San Francisco and the tech-Manifest-Destiny-minded brogrammers who inhabit it ... feels pertinent to the current political climate ... Wiener’s eventual exit from startups is publishing’s gain: She is an extremely gifted writer and cultural critic. Uncanny Valley may be a defining memoir of the 2020s, and it’s one that will send a massive chill down your spine.
Wiener’s account is not designed to shock in the way others have. It is instead intimate, the rolling thoughts of a young hipster sucked into this world against her better judgment ... If there was one part of this memoir I didn’t enjoy, it was her interminable lists of observations and objects so numerous you start to wonder whether they’re only there to beef up the word count ... That aside, though, this remains a beautifully relatable and tender account of a young woman trying her best to swallow Silicon Valley’s Kool-Aid, but never quite managing to keep it down.
... lucid, bleak, and hypnotic ... [Wiener's] habit of not naming any of the firms that come up initially seems perversely stubborn but ultimately lends the narrative an effectively unrooted, foggy, and timeless atmosphere ... Wiener writes with a slightly acerbic and cool detachment about all this hazy California Dreaming that calls to mind early Joan Didion. But she threads that with her generation's habitual self-doubt and second-guessing ... While accumulation of warning signs can feel like precursors to a killing in an over-obvious horror movie—Wiener's honest depiction of wanting to be carried along, goggle-eyed, by the torrent of money and ambition is understandable and relatable ... After all, who doesn't want to be the writer who scores an invite to the last blowout dinner party before the fall?
A stranger in a strange land, [Wiener] defamiliarizes the new norms of the tech industry unquestioningly swallowed by her peers, restoring friction to a milieu devoted to eliminating it ... These salient details accrue like layers of paint, and ultimately the effect is impressionistic rather than schematic ... Earlier this year, Wiener told an interviewer at The Guardian that she wants Uncanny Valley 'to be politically useful,' but that desire isn’t always borne out by the text. Wiener is an unsparing observer of tech-exacerbated gentrification, for example, but the unsettling images she conjures tend to be registered more than interrogated. The anecdotal approach can only take her so far, and occasionally it constrains the aperture of Uncanny Valley’s critique, leaving Wiener with little to say about aspects of the tech industry that have been rendered deliberately invisible, like its reliance on a permanent underclass of gig workers, or the scandalous conditions of the factories in which its thousand-dollar gadgets are made. This cloistered point of view can lead to shallow diagnoses ... This oversimplification isn’t so much a failing of the book as a reflection of its form—ironic, perhaps, considering that Wiener’s choice of genre was influenced by that aforementioned political ambition...Though the book is nonfiction, Uncanny Valley is not a polemic; it’s a memoir with palpable literary aspirations, the strength of which rests largely on Wiener’s elegantly disaffected style. Her restraint proves incompatible with the prospect of a structural critique of the tech industry, which has done much worse than imbue our lives with the tinge of unreality ... the quality of Wiener’s noticing yields pleasures far beyond the analytical. But there are moments that suggest she knows more than she’s letting on ... uspended somewhere between life writing and commentary, and Wiener’s apparent reticence cuts across both modes—most glaringly in the book’s final section, which is hamstrung by a lack of narrative momentum as it approaches the present day ... is in some ways a record of complicity—hers and our own ... It would have been interesting to see [Wiener] wrestle with everything the Valley gave her.
... incisive ... Inherently timely, it aims for timelessness and achieves it. Its style is of a part with the dry, affectless writing of the period that Wiener seeks to capture but goes beyond the Sally Rooney-Tao Lin axis to deliver something sharper and more complete ... That Wiener manages to make her passive observation of this easy drifting so compulsively readable is a testament to both her skill as a writer and the distinct absurdity of her subject matter. I tore through Uncanny Valley, riveted by the wit and precision of Wiener’s observations ... Whatever unseen surveillance cameras took in my facial expressions while I was reading Uncanny Valley on public transit will have found me squinting, laughing, manically underlining whole paragraphs, and sighing loudly with equal parts weariness and recognition ... moments of Uncanny Valley can feel irresolute, as though the author is walking a very fine line, taking care not to offend the more powerful residents of the city she still calls home. It’s clear that Wiener is canny enough to see behind the curtain, but it can seem, at times, like she still wants to believe in the Wizard ... At so many moments, Wiener gets within a finger’s distance of speaking truth to power and then—points us in another direction, or ends the chapter, or describes a bread basket. Of course, speaking truth to power isn’t her project; if it were, this would be a completely different book. But there is something unnerving about a memoir that so brilliantly captures the mood and neuroses of San Francisco in the 2010s yet seems somehow still respectful, occasionally reverent. Even as Wiener critiques the Valley, there is a part of her that is protective of it, a part of her still in its thrall.
Wiener's perspective as an outsider's insider makes her sellout narrative feel fresh. She humanizes people who seem—to the cynical observer—to want to become drones, and she wrestles with her own slide into that lifestyle with the candor and philosophical complexity you'd expect from someone who has published in well-respected magazines. But that perspective also importantly allows her to see right through the intoxicating mists of tech optimism and describe the real power these young entrepreneurs used to wield and (though it's kind of changing now) still do. Suffice it to say that after 50 pages, you'll want to throw your computer and your phone and your Amazonian spyware out the window.
...written with the kind of piquant ambivalence that triggers a salivary response, followed by spitting cries of Didion’s umpteenth coming, in so many modern readers. Wiener is a rock-solid writer ... Wiener, who lived within yet strains to see from without, is never sure where she stands ... To stay sane as everyone around her drinks the Kool-Aid (or butter coffee), Wiener never relinquishes her outsider status. Instead, she tells herself she’s making good on her college degree and doing sociology—tech as her laboratory. Here may be the source of the struggle ... What makes this all the more frustrating is that Wiener can write an immaculate sentence ... She’s also a master of the descriptive arts ... Sentence-level flourishes never add up to text-level sophistication, though. Nor do they make this memoir literary, a descriptor Wiener is clearly chasing ... Read it. Don’t read it. Love it. Hate it.
Every now and again a book comes along that sends a rumble through the tech industry and everything it stands for ... The sexism aspects are particularly startling ... The almost detached nature of her writing as she recalls key moments in her life sometimes feels similar to Sally Rooney’s hit Conversations With Friends.
Wiener wants to do for the techy California of the 2010s what Joan Didion did for the hippy California of the 1960s. She wants to clasp the soul of the age. I liked the book a lot and raced through it, but Wiener is no Didion ... In Slouching Towards Bethlehem, the psychedelic lift of Didion’s prose helped it to soar with the surreal spirit of the age. Uncanny Valley offers no equivalent; no eerie, alien digital style. Instead we’re in an analogue world of comfortable cliché...Still, she harvests details conscientiously ... Read this book and be afraid.
... terrific ... [Wiener's] prose is sharp and memorable — I found myself underlining sentences in every chapter — and the subject matter is timely ... Wiener highlights the strangeness of the tech companies that run our lives by avoiding naming them...It’s a move that lets Uncanny Valley feel less trapped in time, but it also highlights the absurdity of modern life.
References to 'meritocracy' among those at companies dominated by white American men would seem knowingly ironic were so many of the characters in Uncanny Valley not completely lacking in self-awareness ... Though Wiener’s memoir is similar in its ethnographic style to Didion’s New Journalism, there’s a crucial difference. Wiener writes as an insider looking back, rather than an outsider looking in. This raises awkward questions that Uncanny Valley never resolves. Given that she disagreed with so many of the tech industry’s tenets, why did she stay? ... Rather than taking a political stand, Wiener makes wry observations.
...a neat time lapse of the past seven years in Silicon Valley ... The author is a gifted writer and presents a clear-eyed account of her own limitations as a tech employee while offering cultural analysis of the sector ... The start-ups Wiener works for are never named, although enough breadcrumbs are dropped for those who care to guess. In fact no names are given, which becomes tiresome when applied to well-known companies ... This is a minor niggle. Uncanny Valley is an artful contribution to the war on tech exceptionalism.
Two aspects of Anna Wiener’s memoir, Uncanny Valley immediately make themselves apparent: its understated observations and attention to detail ... hese observations do double duty: They demonstrate her incredible ability to write nonfiction, and they further highlight why she felt so out of place in Silicon Valley in the first place ... With the keen eye of a writer and humanist, she inspects not only what drives these people, but how they can live with themselves in the soulless world they have constructed ... Uncanny Valley also brings up the now-infamous heartbreaking moments of what it’s like to be a woman Silicon Valley ... The memoir’s most ludicrous moment is when Wiener recounts the story of a startup founder who thinks books should be shorter — you know, to make things more efficient ... The memoir’s beauty lies in Wiener’s ability to convey her desires in little packets, cleanly interspersed throughout the memoir. Wiener does not hit the reader over the head with her thesis ... Wiener wonders what it would be like to live in a world that values intellectual discourse and emotional complexity...The entire book is an elegant argument for the urgent need to do so.
These corporations are so omnipresent that they can remain nameless; this is not a wink to the informed reader, but a writer highlighting how embedded contemporary life is in her subject ... The descriptions tear the company away from the brand and makes their products seem mundane: a bargain basement, an electronics company. It gives the book a special tinge of darkness, as if written from the other end of history, when these brands are not even memorable. Of course, though, it isn’t: rejecting the brands is a single gesture of resistance in a book that offers little critique of the ‘ecosystem’ beyond simple description ... Wiener is remarkably perceptive about these transitions in San Francisco, and its improbable couplings of old and new (businesses, people, buildings, traditions, ideas of the city) ... Wiener’s awakening to the repercussions of her work, alongside a rising awareness about the implications of what we know post-Snowden about surveillance capitalism, forms the background to her disillusionment with Silicon Valley ... But Wiener’s awakening comes too late for her, and for her readers. Although it’s a joy to read, we did not need a jokey description of the contemporary economy that halfway through remembers to admit that there are real-life repercussions to what was only discussed on her Slack channels and in parties with her Silicon Valley friends. And in a book that rejoices in description, those implications are rarely recounted ... Wiener’s tone – hilarious, entertaining, feverish – sets her up as a ferocious critic, yet she mostly replicates Silicon Valley claims that technology is a service or resource, even though the industry’s avowed ambition is to change the world.
A compelling takedown of the pitfalls of start-up culture, from sexism to the lack of guardrails, Uncanny Valley highlights the maniacal optimism of the twentysomethings behind the screens and the pitfalls of the culture they are building.
Equal parts bildungsroman and insider report, this book reveals not just excesses of the tech-startup landscape, but also the Faustian bargains and hidden political agendas embedded in the so-called 'inspiration culture' underlying a too-powerful industry ... A funny, highly informative, and terrifying read.
Technology journalist Wiener looks at Silicon Valley life in this insider-y debut memoir that sharply critiques start-up culture and the tech industry ... Wiener is an entertaining writer, and those interested in a behind-the-scenes look at life in Silicon Valley will want to take a look.