“Analog Days” is a taut novella that stages the summer of 2016 as a countdown to the then-unthinkable but fully legible catastrophe, using a circle of friends and their media-saturated days to make the approach of Trump’s election feel like slow-motion dread. It is less a linear story than a patterned exposure of how attention, friendship, and social harms get braided together: the internet is “a trillion decisions mainlined right into your gently beating heart.” Yet there is also a tender lingering over films, poems, and small weather of the everyday with a kind of analog attentiveness. In that sense the searching—across browser tabs, memories, streets, and shorelines—is the real protagonist, turning the book into a record of how looking closely might still resist, however slightly, the collective inaction it records.