Read an eARC provided by Edelweiss Plus. This is a fever dream about AI, data collection and ethics; and I am not computing it yet. Need some more processing.
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C. J. Farley’s Who Knows You By Heart is a singular novel that defies easy categorization, threading together a social thriller, a complex love story, and a piercing meditation on technology, race, and identity in the digital age. At its core, it is a deeply human story told through the fresh and risky lens of second-person narration—a choice that initially disorients but ultimately invites readers into an intimate, immersive engagement with Octavia Crenshaw, the novel’s sharply drawn and profoundly flawed protagonist.
Set inside the dizzying world of Eustachian Inc., a Big Tech behemoth reminiscent of Amazon, Twitter, and other Silicon Valley giants, Farley delivers a blistering critique of corporate culture—the glossy facades, the hidden floors, and the unspoken microaggressions (or “technoaggressions”) that define life as one of the few Black employees in a predominantly white workplace. The novel smartly captures the alienation and stakes of big tech jobs today, especially for BIPOC professionals, exploring how language, communication, and human connection become commodities ripe for domination and exploitation.
What makes this novel particularly compelling is how Farley entwines this contemporary tech dystopia with cultural history. The honors overlooked figures like Al-Khwarizmi—the person of color who created algebra—and poet Phillis Wheatley, whose genius was so doubted she was subjected to what amounts to Turing tests. Even Thomas Jefferson’s meticulous record-keeping is slyly linked to IBM’s dark collusions. These moments of historical reckoning not only enrich the narrative texture but also reverberate in our present moment, urging us to reconsider the roots of knowledge, power, and racial erasure within the digital frontier.
The narrative’s second-person address—“you did this…” and “you felt that…”—is a stroke of genius. It leaps off the page, making the experience visceral and urgent. At first, it might feel like a strange stylistic gamble, but soon it proves perfectly suited to Octavia’s sharp, funny, and heartbreakingly real voice. Farley’s portrayal of Octavia as a woman navigating grief, ambition, and belonging feels authentic and layered. Octavia’s losses—the death of her parents, the precariousness of her career, even the threat of losing her very self in a world of ulterior motives—anchor the novel’s larger inquiry: in an age where algorithms predict what we think, buy, read—even whom we love—what does it mean to have a heart that’s truly your own?
The romantic dimension between Octavia and Walcott, a fellow coder with a mysterious and “little strange” edge, adds complexity without clichés. Their fraught collaboration on “Zion,” an AI storytelling project designed to be free from racist and sexist bias, offers a tantalizing glimpse of technological hope—only to be undercut by the corporate dystopian reality they uncover. Meanwhile, Octavia’s interactions with another co-worker, Blue, enrich the interplay of attraction and alliance, reminding readers that personal connections in this high-pressure world are anything but simple.
Farley also captures a moment when Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion initiatives face sharp pushback, even as technology threatens to replace people wholesale. The novel is a vital reminder that what makes us human—our stories, histories, and hearts—cannot be digitized or erased; and its ambition is impressive, weaving current developments in AI and digital colonialism with reflections on ethics and identity (can technology ever truly escape the biases of the society that builds it?).
The book is not without its challenges. Some readers may find the pacing dips in the midsection, and the highly specialized tech and AI jargon can sometimes feel dense or distancing. The occasional raw language feels jarring against the more reflective moments. That said, these are minor quibbles in a novel that offers plenty of wit, cultural commentary, and emotional resonance.
Farley’s humor is a welcome counterbalance to the weighty themes. The character Noelle Swizzler—a playfully sharp stand-in for Taylor Swift—provides well-timed levity that humanizes the story’s tech industry satire.
And the final chapter? Mind-blowing. The thought-provoking finale questions not just the future of AI but what it ultimately means to remain human in a hyper-digitized, surveilled world. This is a book that invites discussion, self-reflection, and perhaps a little discomfort—and that’s its greatest achievement.
Starting this book, I wasn’t sure what to expect. I was quickly transported into something both fresh and urgent, multifaceted and fiercely discussable.
Who Knows You By Heart is not just a novel about technology or race or even love—it’s about recognizing what it means to be truly human in a world increasingly defined by algorithms. Its an often unsettling read, but also an incredibly generous one. It offers both suspenseful storytelling and fertile ground for debate—the sort of book that makes you want to text a friend and say: we need to talk about this.
I highly recommend reading it—you might just discover something vital about yourself along the way.
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Tive acesso a uma cópia avançada através da Edelweiss+. A protagonista é Octavia Crenshaw, uma programadora negra a trabalhar numa grande empresa tecnológica. Foi o primeiro livro que li escrito na segunda pessoa. Estranhei a início, mas acabou por resultar muito bem. Em vez de criar distância, essa escolha aproximou-me ainda mais da Octavia – mesmo estando eu longe de ser uma mulher negra num meio dominado por homens brancos. A história surpreendeu-me desde o início e mergulha em problemáticas bastante actuais e relevantes: desde a colecta de dados e os limites éticos da inteligência artificial até à forma como, por trás da inovação, continuam a persistir desigualdades estruturais. Por vezes senti-me um pouco perdida, sem perceber muito bem para onde a narrativa me estava a levar. Ainda assim, o que sustenta e dá força ao livro é a protagonista: genuinamente interessante, complexa, com um contexto rico e bem desenvolvido.