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You Have a New Memory
An open-hearted interrogation of our digital selves, braiding cultural criticism, memoir, and narrative musings into an exploration of identity, girlhood, media, tech, nature and "finding the depth and beauty in the fucked-up world we live in" (Phoebe Bridgers) from writer, artist, and conflicted influencer Aiden Arata.
If you told Aiden Arata in 1995 that the internet would one day crown her the “meme queen of depression” and mega corporations would fly her to conferences to speak about commodifying one's emotions for views, she would have asked you what a meme was. Now, in her highly anticipated debut, she brings us raw reportage from that liminal space between online and offline worlds, illuminating how we got here and where to go next.
In this collection of kaleidoscopic essays, Aiden artfully explores what it means to exist on the internet, from fan fic forums to TikTok. She exposes influencer grifts from the perspective of a grifter, digs into the alluring aesthetic numbness of stay-at-home girlfriend content creators, and interrogates our online fetishization of doom to grapple with the real-world apocalypse. In her own words, “In some ways, the internet feels like a neutral energy in the way that money is a neutral energy, only as virtuous or wicked as the person using it. But then you have to follow that line of inquiry somewhere annoying like, Am I using it for good?”
YOU HAVE A NEW MEMORY is a deeply human inventory of the digital sphere, a searing analysis of the present and a prescient assessment of the future. Aiden is the wry, unexpected voice we need to navigate existing simultaneously as creators, consumers, and products in our increasingly braver and newer world.
If you told Aiden Arata in 1995 that the internet would one day crown her the “meme queen of depression” and mega corporations would fly her to conferences to speak about commodifying one's emotions for views, she would have asked you what a meme was. Now, in her highly anticipated debut, she brings us raw reportage from that liminal space between online and offline worlds, illuminating how we got here and where to go next.
In this collection of kaleidoscopic essays, Aiden artfully explores what it means to exist on the internet, from fan fic forums to TikTok. She exposes influencer grifts from the perspective of a grifter, digs into the alluring aesthetic numbness of stay-at-home girlfriend content creators, and interrogates our online fetishization of doom to grapple with the real-world apocalypse. In her own words, “In some ways, the internet feels like a neutral energy in the way that money is a neutral energy, only as virtuous or wicked as the person using it. But then you have to follow that line of inquiry somewhere annoying like, Am I using it for good?”
YOU HAVE A NEW MEMORY is a deeply human inventory of the digital sphere, a searing analysis of the present and a prescient assessment of the future. Aiden is the wry, unexpected voice we need to navigate existing simultaneously as creators, consumers, and products in our increasingly braver and newer world.
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Published July 22, 2025
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 86 reviews
June 1, 2025
I don’t hesitate at all to say Aiden belongs in the lineage of Didion and Babitz as a new hot, smart, incisive California girl translating the weirdness of our time into something palpable, in all the sensitive and strange detail her lens is uniquely able to capture. Primarily about her experiences on the internet and the way they affect her (and us) in the off-screen world, she manages to bring a pulse to places and situations I have primarily written off as “fake”. It was a great reminder that the internet is made up of people. It’s where she meets friends, makes money, learns about and communicates danger, and finds love. The same can be said for many of us. She successfully does one of my favorite things good writers can do- she looks into the deep and speaks on it with clarifying simplicity, then turns around and looks at the simple to draw depths from it. It’s amazing to see someone with a great sense of humor and awareness of irony still manage to come across sincere. Can’t recommend enough.
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January 28, 2025I like Aiden’s internet presence (would that mean I like her work then lol) so I went into this with high hopes and feel a lil mixed bag about it. If I had to expand on that I guess it’s the tone, incredibly impersonal and removed (purposeful I’m assuming) but I feel like I need a tonal balance when the content of the essays is mostly internet economy based. Lots of pulled in citations too and references of other texts that felt chunky and not needed. Idk curious to what other people get from this tho
July 21, 2025
Aiden Arata’s "You Have a New Memory" is less a book of essays and more a curated download of what it feels like to be alive (and online) in the new and old ages of the internet. Her writing is concise yet metaphorical, sometimes... slippery, but always emotionally precise.
The early essays were the true stand-outs of the collection: “America Online” captures the unease of digital connection with eerie clarity, “What’s Meant For You Won’t Miss” pulses with low-key grief, and “The Museum of Who I Want To Be For You” is both cutting and tender. Arata doesn’t just describe feelings- she builds spaces for them, especially the ones that glitch or loop. The collection’s second half wanders more inward, less immediate, but the shift feels intentional: a kind of slow log-off a la Homer Simpson fading into the bushes.
The final pages don’t promise clarity; more like a tentative truce or coexistence with the fog. This book won’t hold your hand; but it will call-to-light the weird little ache of wanting to be SEEN in a world that is always watching.
Lucy Dacus said it best- Arata belongs in the lineage of Didion and Babitz.
"You Have a New Memory" drops tomorrow 7/22/25. Thank you to Netgalley & Grand Central Publishing for the ARC.
The early essays were the true stand-outs of the collection: “America Online” captures the unease of digital connection with eerie clarity, “What’s Meant For You Won’t Miss” pulses with low-key grief, and “The Museum of Who I Want To Be For You” is both cutting and tender. Arata doesn’t just describe feelings- she builds spaces for them, especially the ones that glitch or loop. The collection’s second half wanders more inward, less immediate, but the shift feels intentional: a kind of slow log-off a la Homer Simpson fading into the bushes.
The final pages don’t promise clarity; more like a tentative truce or coexistence with the fog. This book won’t hold your hand; but it will call-to-light the weird little ache of wanting to be SEEN in a world that is always watching.
Lucy Dacus said it best- Arata belongs in the lineage of Didion and Babitz.
"You Have a New Memory" drops tomorrow 7/22/25. Thank you to Netgalley & Grand Central Publishing for the ARC.
August 12, 2025
Aiden Arata is a millennial writer whose 2025 essay collection You Have a New Memory explores being enmeshed in digital culture from an early age. Arata comes from a financially comfortable California background, with early exposure to computers, the internet, and social media influencer culture. Her essays aim to capture a generational zeitgeist - the awkward and often distasteful navigation (veering into bullying and age-inappropriate roleplays in Arata's case) of early online chatrooms , messenger tools, and forums, the blurring of real life and curated digital personas, and her conflicted feelings around social media influencing (which she continues to dabble in and presumably profit from) and authenticity. Unfortunately, this collection fell flat for me.
Arata’s choice to write entirely in the second person felt presumptive, as if her experiences and emotional reactions to them was similar to her audience's, but they certainly didn't mirror mine. Her stories aren't particularly novel, nor are they told with enough nuance to distinguish this book from many others in this rapidly-expanding subgenre (see further reading below) tackling similar themes in both nonfiction and fiction format.
What I found most frustrating was the lack of perspective. The essays often dwell on the traps of social media culture without arriving at a clear reckoning or broader insight, and the second-person narrative only underscored this sense of myopia.
Further reading: these themes explored in nonfiction:
Searches: Selfhood in the Digital Age by Vauhini Vara
Trick Mirror: Reflections on Self-Delusion by Jia Tolentino
Culture Creep: Notes on the Pop Apocalypse by Alice Bolin
Pixel Flesh: How Toxic Beauty Culture Harms Women by Ellen Atlanta
And fiction:
Exquisite Mariposa by Fiona Alison Duncan
Followers by Megan Angelo
The Comeback by Ella Berman
Aesthetica by Allie Rowbottom
Julie Chan Is Dead by Liann Zhang
My statistics:
Book 250 for 2025
Book 2176 cumulatively
Arata’s choice to write entirely in the second person felt presumptive, as if her experiences and emotional reactions to them was similar to her audience's, but they certainly didn't mirror mine. Her stories aren't particularly novel, nor are they told with enough nuance to distinguish this book from many others in this rapidly-expanding subgenre (see further reading below) tackling similar themes in both nonfiction and fiction format.
What I found most frustrating was the lack of perspective. The essays often dwell on the traps of social media culture without arriving at a clear reckoning or broader insight, and the second-person narrative only underscored this sense of myopia.
Further reading: these themes explored in nonfiction:
Searches: Selfhood in the Digital Age by Vauhini Vara
Trick Mirror: Reflections on Self-Delusion by Jia Tolentino
Culture Creep: Notes on the Pop Apocalypse by Alice Bolin
Pixel Flesh: How Toxic Beauty Culture Harms Women by Ellen Atlanta
And fiction:
Exquisite Mariposa by Fiona Alison Duncan
Followers by Megan Angelo
The Comeback by Ella Berman
Aesthetica by Allie Rowbottom
Julie Chan Is Dead by Liann Zhang
My statistics:
Book 250 for 2025
Book 2176 cumulatively
October 11, 2025
sharp, witty, entertaining, real etc I mean it’s just really fucking good, engaging writing I loved it
August 18, 2025
i love the cover... i was intrigued by the phoebe bridgers of it.. i wanted to like it! but it was not good! the only essay that sort of intrigued me was how to do the right thing. otherwise, there were interesting concepts that were just explored so superficially and brought nothing new to the conversation. i think if i was 16 i would be like this is radical! however i've read good books since then. this would be so great as personal diary entries
August 14, 2025
The only thing I learned from this book is that if you hang around your ethically dubious non-monogamous boyfriend long enough, he'll eventually leave his long-time girlfriend for you.
Not sure who this book is for except for people interested in the extended Phoebe Bridgers cinematic universe and fans of the movie Children of Men*.
*author’s father wrote Children of Men. Great movie!
Not sure who this book is for except for people interested in the extended Phoebe Bridgers cinematic universe and fans of the movie Children of Men*.
*author’s father wrote Children of Men. Great movie!
March 11, 2025
uuuaaaaghhhh, etc.
August 13, 2025
her MIND. The ability to both criticize and spark hope about the state of the world today is so important. I loved loved loved this book.
September 20, 2025
A strikingly intelligent account of what it means to be alive in a time when being alive means equal parts breathing and eating, and existing on the internet.
I naturally favoured some essays over others, but this was truly impressive and enjoyable in spite of its depressing basis.
I naturally favoured some essays over others, but this was truly impressive and enjoyable in spite of its depressing basis.
June 25, 2025
thank you to NetGalley and Grand Central Publishing for the advanced digital copy!
this one hits shelves July 22nd, 2025.
--
you have a new memory is for the girlies. not girlies in the gendered sense, but in the spiritual one. the chronically online, meme-fluent, a little-too-self-aware crew who grew up feral on fanfic forums and somehow ended up trying to live intentionally without logging off. this is a book of essays that doesn't pretend to offer answers, it simply tries to trace the digital mess of how we got here.
the collection is strongest when it lingers in the personal. two standouts: "how to do the right thing", an essay about the aftermath of a sexual assault, and how survivors often pay more than perpetrators ever will. it's brutal, brilliant, and incredibly necessary. the second, "an endless sound loop", reads like fiction - an ethically non-monogamous love story that unfolds like magic, reminding you that sometimes people find each other in the blur, and it matters. these essays cracked something open for me.
other pieces, like "america online" and "in real life", channel that early internet nostalgia, the chaos, the freedom, the AIM away messages and sex via lord of the rings characters. it made me miss the lawless world we came from. "pink skies over the empire" and "on vibing" take aim at what replaced it: a performative, flattened internet full of influencers, trend cycles, and 'vibes' that have replaced real thought. vibes, arata argues, are just soma. distraction. curated numbness. this might be one of the most biting critiques of modern culture i've read recently, especially because it's coming from someone inside the machine.
the voice throughout is sharp, funny, observant. but what sets this book apart is its refusal to claim superiority. there’s no 'i’m not like the other girls' here. it's more like, 'we are all the same girl, and isn't that kind of beautiful and terrifying?' i felt deeply seen by that. the self-aware influencer, the nihilistic consumer, the person who orders something stupid off ebay to fill a void that can't be named - yeah. guilty. and 'my year of earning and spending' spells it out without judgment. it just holds up a mirror.
not every essay hits the same. 'what's meant for you won't miss' and 'the museum of who i want to be for you' skew more fragmented, sometimes losing their emotional thread. but even then, there's value in the collage, an inventory of modern girlhood, commodified identity, doomscroll culture, and the contradictions we hold between our thumbs.
the final essay, 'it ends and it ends and it ends (on glory)', brings the collection full circle. what do we owe the future? what's the point of trying to be remembered if we never really lived? aiden arata doesn't promise hope, but she reminds us that meaning is made, not found.
if you live online, grew up too fast, miss the old internet, and want to feel something about all of it, this book is for you. it's messy. it's sincere. it's a glitchy love letter to the world we're trying to survive.
this one hits shelves July 22nd, 2025.
--
you have a new memory is for the girlies. not girlies in the gendered sense, but in the spiritual one. the chronically online, meme-fluent, a little-too-self-aware crew who grew up feral on fanfic forums and somehow ended up trying to live intentionally without logging off. this is a book of essays that doesn't pretend to offer answers, it simply tries to trace the digital mess of how we got here.
the collection is strongest when it lingers in the personal. two standouts: "how to do the right thing", an essay about the aftermath of a sexual assault, and how survivors often pay more than perpetrators ever will. it's brutal, brilliant, and incredibly necessary. the second, "an endless sound loop", reads like fiction - an ethically non-monogamous love story that unfolds like magic, reminding you that sometimes people find each other in the blur, and it matters. these essays cracked something open for me.
other pieces, like "america online" and "in real life", channel that early internet nostalgia, the chaos, the freedom, the AIM away messages and sex via lord of the rings characters. it made me miss the lawless world we came from. "pink skies over the empire" and "on vibing" take aim at what replaced it: a performative, flattened internet full of influencers, trend cycles, and 'vibes' that have replaced real thought. vibes, arata argues, are just soma. distraction. curated numbness. this might be one of the most biting critiques of modern culture i've read recently, especially because it's coming from someone inside the machine.
the voice throughout is sharp, funny, observant. but what sets this book apart is its refusal to claim superiority. there’s no 'i’m not like the other girls' here. it's more like, 'we are all the same girl, and isn't that kind of beautiful and terrifying?' i felt deeply seen by that. the self-aware influencer, the nihilistic consumer, the person who orders something stupid off ebay to fill a void that can't be named - yeah. guilty. and 'my year of earning and spending' spells it out without judgment. it just holds up a mirror.
not every essay hits the same. 'what's meant for you won't miss' and 'the museum of who i want to be for you' skew more fragmented, sometimes losing their emotional thread. but even then, there's value in the collage, an inventory of modern girlhood, commodified identity, doomscroll culture, and the contradictions we hold between our thumbs.
the final essay, 'it ends and it ends and it ends (on glory)', brings the collection full circle. what do we owe the future? what's the point of trying to be remembered if we never really lived? aiden arata doesn't promise hope, but she reminds us that meaning is made, not found.
if you live online, grew up too fast, miss the old internet, and want to feel something about all of it, this book is for you. it's messy. it's sincere. it's a glitchy love letter to the world we're trying to survive.
February 20, 2025
This book presents the unexpected in several different ways. The jacket copy isn't really accurate to what "You Have A New Memory" is about, but you can look past that. Arata's writing is always swift, often metaphoric, and sometimes cryptic. The tone feels like stream-of-consciousness, but that could be a rhetorical effect from years spent writing and reading on the internet. Her insights were surprising, timely, and relevant. The early essays--"America Online," "On Vibing," "What's Meant For You Won't Miss," and "The Museum of Who I Want To Be For You"--are the strongest and most memorable.
The essays after this point become longer and more repetitive. They become more ephemeral at the same time they become more personal. They grow more reflective while also becoming more self-contained, more solipsistic. I have no familiarity with Arata's online/social presence or work as a visual artist; I only know her through her writing. The first half of the collection felt like I was getting to know her. The second half felt more guarded, like she decided she no longer wanted to be known. (Again, this is when the essays become more personal, so a strange contradiction.)
The last essay ends on an elusive note, with Arata searching for the point of it all -- why go on living when even the earth is doomed to fail? -- a point of secret wisdom or grand conclusion that remains hidden to all writers. While not quite a platitude, the takeaway can best be summed up with Arata's "plastic bag theory": "Basically, the internet, like a plastic bag, is a container that is both disposable and forever, and when we use the internet we become disposable and forever too. . . . I am both a flimsy vessel and an agent of destruction" (ebook 2561). Arata makes several fine points in this book, and I read them as genuine and sincere, rather than ironic and nihilistic. But I also feel like the book is attempting to be a type of performance art, something temporary and self-effacing with the ambition of being remembered by its observers (readers).
Reflecting on this book reminds me of the opening line from Namwali Serpell's novel "The Furrows," "I don't want to tell you what happened. I want to tell you how it felt" (1). Arata might be suggesting a similar conviction in this book--to savor the feeling of reading her essays, even if you forget what they were ultimately about. Like standing up in a speeding car and feeling warm air hurtling toward your skin, while your eyes remain closed and incapable of articulating the details of the vista that escapes your understanding.
The essays after this point become longer and more repetitive. They become more ephemeral at the same time they become more personal. They grow more reflective while also becoming more self-contained, more solipsistic. I have no familiarity with Arata's online/social presence or work as a visual artist; I only know her through her writing. The first half of the collection felt like I was getting to know her. The second half felt more guarded, like she decided she no longer wanted to be known. (Again, this is when the essays become more personal, so a strange contradiction.)
The last essay ends on an elusive note, with Arata searching for the point of it all -- why go on living when even the earth is doomed to fail? -- a point of secret wisdom or grand conclusion that remains hidden to all writers. While not quite a platitude, the takeaway can best be summed up with Arata's "plastic bag theory": "Basically, the internet, like a plastic bag, is a container that is both disposable and forever, and when we use the internet we become disposable and forever too. . . . I am both a flimsy vessel and an agent of destruction" (ebook 2561). Arata makes several fine points in this book, and I read them as genuine and sincere, rather than ironic and nihilistic. But I also feel like the book is attempting to be a type of performance art, something temporary and self-effacing with the ambition of being remembered by its observers (readers).
Reflecting on this book reminds me of the opening line from Namwali Serpell's novel "The Furrows," "I don't want to tell you what happened. I want to tell you how it felt" (1). Arata might be suggesting a similar conviction in this book--to savor the feeling of reading her essays, even if you forget what they were ultimately about. Like standing up in a speeding car and feeling warm air hurtling toward your skin, while your eyes remain closed and incapable of articulating the details of the vista that escapes your understanding.
November 2, 2025
4.5 ☆
it took me a while to settle into you have a new memory, but i think part of my initial resistance was that i found aiden arata to be so similar to be that i was getting annoyed with her voice. it’s really the mark of a strong essayist when the reader feels like the writing itself is being pulled out of their own head, a collaboration between author and reader.
all of the essays in this collection are worth reading, but arata hits her stride in the last third of the book, when the topics drift away from influencer malaise (always the faintest bit out of touch). while it’s never explicitly named as such, arata focuses on the moral scrupulosity familiar to anyone with OCD (especially OCD with religious themes) in ways that are fascinating. she writes deliciously of internal morality and policing, guilt, and the inability to know if you are a good person, or maybe just a bad person worried about being good. she doesn’t purport to be someone with the answers to these feelings, but rather someone who is hopelessly lost on where to even look for those answers. it’s ultimately stomach-churning, but in a way that works.
i will say that there’s a certain element to the way that arata speaks on mental illness that i never could really get behind. she writes about her vague and undefined mental illness in a way that is almost indulgent, like a kid getting a blood draw at the doctor’s office and then wearing the bandage all day, waiting for someone to ask them what happened. maybe it’s the evil little worm that lives in my brain that makes mental illness some kind of competitive game. her attitude, and i say this as neutrally as possible, reads as very tumblr 2016, in a way that chafes against my 2025 attempts to stop malingering and better myself for once.
in the end, a conversation starter, something to reflect upon rather than consume and wholeheartedly agree with. very enjoyably on-the-nose for 2025 influencer/beauty/everything-in-this-world-sucks-a-little-bit culture. anyone over the age of maybe 40 or so would probably justifiably find this ridiculous, but i loved it. it sparks, if not joy, complete and utter fascination.
it took me a while to settle into you have a new memory, but i think part of my initial resistance was that i found aiden arata to be so similar to be that i was getting annoyed with her voice. it’s really the mark of a strong essayist when the reader feels like the writing itself is being pulled out of their own head, a collaboration between author and reader.
all of the essays in this collection are worth reading, but arata hits her stride in the last third of the book, when the topics drift away from influencer malaise (always the faintest bit out of touch). while it’s never explicitly named as such, arata focuses on the moral scrupulosity familiar to anyone with OCD (especially OCD with religious themes) in ways that are fascinating. she writes deliciously of internal morality and policing, guilt, and the inability to know if you are a good person, or maybe just a bad person worried about being good. she doesn’t purport to be someone with the answers to these feelings, but rather someone who is hopelessly lost on where to even look for those answers. it’s ultimately stomach-churning, but in a way that works.
i will say that there’s a certain element to the way that arata speaks on mental illness that i never could really get behind. she writes about her vague and undefined mental illness in a way that is almost indulgent, like a kid getting a blood draw at the doctor’s office and then wearing the bandage all day, waiting for someone to ask them what happened. maybe it’s the evil little worm that lives in my brain that makes mental illness some kind of competitive game. her attitude, and i say this as neutrally as possible, reads as very tumblr 2016, in a way that chafes against my 2025 attempts to stop malingering and better myself for once.
in the end, a conversation starter, something to reflect upon rather than consume and wholeheartedly agree with. very enjoyably on-the-nose for 2025 influencer/beauty/everything-in-this-world-sucks-a-little-bit culture. anyone over the age of maybe 40 or so would probably justifiably find this ridiculous, but i loved it. it sparks, if not joy, complete and utter fascination.
August 6, 2025
Arata is clearly an incredible writer, but I’m tired of authors just writing whatever they want and calling it an essay. Maybe I just don’t care enough about social media for this book but essays should have…points
November 23, 2025
one of the best collections of essays I’ve ever had the pleasure to read. this woman can write, good god.
truly a didion for the modern age of doomscrolling.
somehow she speaks about topics that could easily be dismissed as trivial, vain, or superficial in a way that removes the veil of judgement while acknowledging that this shit is all pretty dumb, but not dumb, bc it matters. she’s able to live in the wispy dawn fields of nuance while making decisive statements. i want to read everything she writes.
i finished the longest essay, how to do the right thing, feeling both empowered and deeply troubled. who among us women has not experienced some form of sexual assault or harassment? what do we do?
i will be chewing on this book for a long time and i will be asking for a copy for christmas. i love you, mke public library, but i need her for keeps.
truly a didion for the modern age of doomscrolling.
somehow she speaks about topics that could easily be dismissed as trivial, vain, or superficial in a way that removes the veil of judgement while acknowledging that this shit is all pretty dumb, but not dumb, bc it matters. she’s able to live in the wispy dawn fields of nuance while making decisive statements. i want to read everything she writes.
i finished the longest essay, how to do the right thing, feeling both empowered and deeply troubled. who among us women has not experienced some form of sexual assault or harassment? what do we do?
i will be chewing on this book for a long time and i will be asking for a copy for christmas. i love you, mke public library, but i need her for keeps.
May 27, 2025
Sometimes I worry that if I read something a little too on the nose to my own thoughts and anxieties, I won’t like it.
So when Aiden Arata pulled a few particular experiences from my own annoying little psyche, I had to lean into the punch. You Have a New Memory is a collection of essays on a modern life, lived relatively online. There’s a huge irony to running a silly little bookstagram and then cackling at how feverish the internet can make you feel.
In one essay, Arata travels far away to what she thought was a convent of nuns who would welcome her with soft feminine exploration of our place in the world. But by accident, she’s in a Carthusian silent retreat wondering if she’s hallucinated yet.
Other essays question love, our place in the climate disaster, the influencer economy.
I realized I was clenching my jaw while reading most of “How to do the Right Thing” a story of calling out and calling in the predators in your life. When a man Arata knew was publicly called out, she first tries to be a compassionately honest friend but soon realizes that she’s experienced abuse too. I had my own semi-public me too moment of 2017. Arata so vividly captures the reeling strangeness that comes with exposing yourself in the hopes of stopping harm. In the end, I still don’t really know if it helped. “How to do the Right Thing” was a strange mirror of comfort.
This books is for you. You incredibly online soul, who is trying to exist in our strange modern world while deeply wishing to be cozy. At the very least, please sample Arata‘s esoteric memes as a starting point.
Thanks to Grand Central Publishing for this advanced copy.
So when Aiden Arata pulled a few particular experiences from my own annoying little psyche, I had to lean into the punch. You Have a New Memory is a collection of essays on a modern life, lived relatively online. There’s a huge irony to running a silly little bookstagram and then cackling at how feverish the internet can make you feel.
In one essay, Arata travels far away to what she thought was a convent of nuns who would welcome her with soft feminine exploration of our place in the world. But by accident, she’s in a Carthusian silent retreat wondering if she’s hallucinated yet.
Other essays question love, our place in the climate disaster, the influencer economy.
I realized I was clenching my jaw while reading most of “How to do the Right Thing” a story of calling out and calling in the predators in your life. When a man Arata knew was publicly called out, she first tries to be a compassionately honest friend but soon realizes that she’s experienced abuse too. I had my own semi-public me too moment of 2017. Arata so vividly captures the reeling strangeness that comes with exposing yourself in the hopes of stopping harm. In the end, I still don’t really know if it helped. “How to do the Right Thing” was a strange mirror of comfort.
This books is for you. You incredibly online soul, who is trying to exist in our strange modern world while deeply wishing to be cozy. At the very least, please sample Arata‘s esoteric memes as a starting point.
Thanks to Grand Central Publishing for this advanced copy.
Read
September 10, 2025Is it still worth writing and thinking about the internet as if it's a curiosity? I was surprised to ask this question while reading these essays. Those of us who grew up both with and without the internet have been intoxicated with the impact of digital life on physical life for some time, but I wonder if we've crossed a threshold, where it's all just LIFE now. Arata's writing is very good, and I felt much more by the end than I expected to when I started. The essay on her pandemic romance was my favorite. I would like to know the time period of each essay but perhaps years aren't really relevant anymore, the infinite scroll bleeds into one era of experience, time stamps be damned.
October 23, 2025
Aiden Arata doesn't flinch in this game of chicken with the internet. She doesn't look away from all the scary, pervasive ways that the internet infiltrates seemingly all our waking thoughts. She makes some things that are not funny at all at least a little bit funny. She also went and lived in a Catholic cloister which is one of my fantasies and wow that veil was lifted and I have a new fear of sponges. Smart and fun and sad and hopeful.
September 29, 2025
Vulnerability, consciousness, and relationships live at the core of this set of essays with a focus on how evolving technologies are changing the expectations we have on our lives. It’s damn good, really sad at times, and flits in and out of the stories with anecdotes personal to Arata and likely personal to you too. Some absolutely wonderful and hilarious imagery and irony. Took me a lot longer to read than the kindle thought, but that’s a skill issue. Recommended.
July 25, 2025
The figurative language alone deserves 5+ stars, gad damn!
November 7, 2025
4.5 rounded up
August 24, 2025
little more memoir than culturally incisive but aiden arata is a beautiful writer these sentences flowwww together. was still generally skeptical of the connecting thread between these works until the last two essays and then i was fully convinced.
November 10, 2025
Essays that intermingle the author’s personal experiences with a society that is increasingly and dangerously online. Particularly liked the essay about the author accidentally joining a monastery for a bit 😂
June 26, 2025
Very very good ty emily !!!! 💗
Cool to write about hopelessness and not understanding what the fuck is happening in the world but with so much hope and presentness
Cool to write about hopelessness and not understanding what the fuck is happening in the world but with so much hope and presentness
April 23, 2025
"I don't know how to tell him that it's not even that I want forgiveness for doing the wrong thing, but that I don't even know if I'm doing the wrong thing. Or I want blazing horny visions, divine contact, and that makes me feel ashamed because I know I'm not special. No emergency exit. What if I did turn inward—what if I found the center, and there's nothing there?"
a compelling collection of essays about life in the Age of the Internet, that was depressing and hopeful in equal measure. as someone who's spent almost her entire life navigating the online world (and will most likely continue doing so), I found this really interesting and relatable, if also a little disheartening in precisely how relatable it was lmao
a compelling collection of essays about life in the Age of the Internet, that was depressing and hopeful in equal measure. as someone who's spent almost her entire life navigating the online world (and will most likely continue doing so), I found this really interesting and relatable, if also a little disheartening in precisely how relatable it was lmao
April 28, 2025
This read was a layered experience. Aiden Arata writes beautifully—there's a dreamlike, dense quality to her prose that pulled me in but also made me pause often to fully absorb it. Lately, I've noticed this with essay collections in general for me: last year, I devoured them easily, but this year, it's been more of a slow vibe.
This collection explores the strange tenderness and anxiety of being young and online today, touching on meme culture, stay-at-home girlfriend content, emotional commodification, and the often-blurry line between online and offline existence. Arata captures the contradictions of digital life with sharp insight and vulnerability.
There were times I felt like I was almost drowning in the language—getting lost in the current before resurfacing with a new thought or a new feeling. But honestly, that feels fitting for a book about living through the internet's strange tides. If you're looking for a collection that mirrors the disorienting, beautiful mess of modern online life, this is one to sit with slowly.
Thank you to the publisher and NetGalley for the advance copy!!!!!!
This collection explores the strange tenderness and anxiety of being young and online today, touching on meme culture, stay-at-home girlfriend content, emotional commodification, and the often-blurry line between online and offline existence. Arata captures the contradictions of digital life with sharp insight and vulnerability.
There were times I felt like I was almost drowning in the language—getting lost in the current before resurfacing with a new thought or a new feeling. But honestly, that feels fitting for a book about living through the internet's strange tides. If you're looking for a collection that mirrors the disorienting, beautiful mess of modern online life, this is one to sit with slowly.
Thank you to the publisher and NetGalley for the advance copy!!!!!!
August 17, 2025
i have personally been off social media fully for like over a year-ish at this point so this was a bit surreal to read. it felt like i was reading about something that no longer happens to me. all of these essays are strong in different ways, but i feel very strongly that we are living in the dusk of the internet and we are all being ran offline again by tech fascists anyway, so it made some of her observations on the deeper implication of shared online culture feel a bit silly, or like it's a trend I was a part of that I now cringe at. like I'm personally not convinced that we won't look back on the last decade of the internet as everything and feel like this was all some fucked up shared dream.
I do think that maybe, that feeling wsa the point, which I love. and on top arata’s prose is really special, her tender observations about everything is inspiring to me, and her strongest essays about COVID dating, about her year of spending and earning, about climate grief, and her experience with being sexually assaulted by an online colleague are some standouts to me that I highly recommend. this was a strange but excellent collection that I deeply enjoyed. 3.5-4/5
I do think that maybe, that feeling wsa the point, which I love. and on top arata’s prose is really special, her tender observations about everything is inspiring to me, and her strongest essays about COVID dating, about her year of spending and earning, about climate grief, and her experience with being sexually assaulted by an online colleague are some standouts to me that I highly recommend. this was a strange but excellent collection that I deeply enjoyed. 3.5-4/5
November 7, 2025
Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for the eARC! This book was published in the US by Grand Central Publishing in July 2025.
“Women were the catalysts for sorrow but rarely the blameless victims of it; the failures of women were domestic, embarrassing, narcissistic. Billie Holiday was a junkie, Mama Cass was fat, Britney Spears a psycho, Marguerite Duras a drunk. Their sadness made them less likable, not more. With the internet, though, girls and their allies had found a loophole. If you could hold sorrow at arm’s length—if you could philosophize it or, better yet, deprecate it—you could transmute it into something worthy of public consumption.”
Aiden Arata’s You Have a New Memory is one of those books that feels like reliving a fever dream. Blending memoir and cultural criticism, Arata traces the rise of self-surveillance and influencer culture through the intimate lens of her own life. She writes about growing up in the early internet’s unmoderated chaos—AIM chats, LiveJournal confessionals, the manic shimmer of early-2000s girlhood—and how those spaces taught her both the danger and seduction of being seen. Her essays are sharp, melancholic, and darkly funny, moving between the personal and the collective as she examines how performance has replaced presence, and how selfhood has become a kind of content management system.
What makes this collection so striking is its refusal to moralize. Arata doesn’t position herself above the internet’s compulsions; she implicates herself in them. She documents her own surveillance anxiety, her consumerism, her complicity in the influencer economy, and her ongoing desire to be known despite knowing better. The essay chronicling a year of online purchases—culminating in a long-overdue dental cleaning right before her insurance lapses—captures this contradiction perfectly: the internet’s endless promise of reinvention collapsing under the weight of exhaustion and need.
The later essays are where the book deepens. Arata’s reckoning with consent violations and the failures of “cancel culture” is unflinching, as is her confrontation with eco-grief and the recognition that the planet itself might give up before we do. Her prose is lyrical yet disciplined, poetic without losing clarity, and her insights land with the precision of someone dissecting both her own heart and the cultural machine that feeds on it.
You Have a New Memory is a haunting and strangely hopeful inventory of modern life: a book for anyone who has ever curated their pain, posted their joy, or wondered what part of themselves the internet has already taken. I wasn’t sure I would love it at first, but by the end, I found myself quietly moved. Arata’s honesty cuts through the noise like a pulse reminding us we’re still here.
📖 Read this if you love: digital-age memoirs that double as cultural critique, introspective essays about online identity and selfhood, and the works of Jia Tolentino or Melissa Broder.
🔑 Key Themes: Surveillance and Self-Documentation, Internet Girlhood and Power, Authenticity and Performance, Desire and Consent, Eco-Grief and the End of the World.
Content / Trigger Warnings: Sexual Content (minor), Drug Use (severe), Suicidal Thoughts (minor), Mental Illness (minor), Vomit (moderate), Sexual Assault (moderate), Grief (minor), Murder (minor), Rape (moderate), Sexual Violence (moderate), Pandemic (minor).
“Women were the catalysts for sorrow but rarely the blameless victims of it; the failures of women were domestic, embarrassing, narcissistic. Billie Holiday was a junkie, Mama Cass was fat, Britney Spears a psycho, Marguerite Duras a drunk. Their sadness made them less likable, not more. With the internet, though, girls and their allies had found a loophole. If you could hold sorrow at arm’s length—if you could philosophize it or, better yet, deprecate it—you could transmute it into something worthy of public consumption.”
Aiden Arata’s You Have a New Memory is one of those books that feels like reliving a fever dream. Blending memoir and cultural criticism, Arata traces the rise of self-surveillance and influencer culture through the intimate lens of her own life. She writes about growing up in the early internet’s unmoderated chaos—AIM chats, LiveJournal confessionals, the manic shimmer of early-2000s girlhood—and how those spaces taught her both the danger and seduction of being seen. Her essays are sharp, melancholic, and darkly funny, moving between the personal and the collective as she examines how performance has replaced presence, and how selfhood has become a kind of content management system.
What makes this collection so striking is its refusal to moralize. Arata doesn’t position herself above the internet’s compulsions; she implicates herself in them. She documents her own surveillance anxiety, her consumerism, her complicity in the influencer economy, and her ongoing desire to be known despite knowing better. The essay chronicling a year of online purchases—culminating in a long-overdue dental cleaning right before her insurance lapses—captures this contradiction perfectly: the internet’s endless promise of reinvention collapsing under the weight of exhaustion and need.
The later essays are where the book deepens. Arata’s reckoning with consent violations and the failures of “cancel culture” is unflinching, as is her confrontation with eco-grief and the recognition that the planet itself might give up before we do. Her prose is lyrical yet disciplined, poetic without losing clarity, and her insights land with the precision of someone dissecting both her own heart and the cultural machine that feeds on it.
You Have a New Memory is a haunting and strangely hopeful inventory of modern life: a book for anyone who has ever curated their pain, posted their joy, or wondered what part of themselves the internet has already taken. I wasn’t sure I would love it at first, but by the end, I found myself quietly moved. Arata’s honesty cuts through the noise like a pulse reminding us we’re still here.
📖 Read this if you love: digital-age memoirs that double as cultural critique, introspective essays about online identity and selfhood, and the works of Jia Tolentino or Melissa Broder.
🔑 Key Themes: Surveillance and Self-Documentation, Internet Girlhood and Power, Authenticity and Performance, Desire and Consent, Eco-Grief and the End of the World.
Content / Trigger Warnings: Sexual Content (minor), Drug Use (severe), Suicidal Thoughts (minor), Mental Illness (minor), Vomit (moderate), Sexual Assault (moderate), Grief (minor), Murder (minor), Rape (moderate), Sexual Violence (moderate), Pandemic (minor).
August 4, 2025
2.5⭐️
Thank you to Grand Central Publishing for gifting me this free ARC in exchange for an honest review.
NGL, I didn’t love this book. Reading it felt like a chore—like I was doing assigned reading for a class I didn’t sign up for. The only essays I really clicked with were How to Do the Right Thing and In Real Life (kind of). Those felt the most raw, personal, and like the writer dropped the performance a bit.
I feel a little bad for not loving a collection that I technically relate to. I’m a 30-year-old, American born meme-maker with severe mental illness who grew up on the internet so you'd think I'd relate more (but I'm also Latina, spent a ton of money on education (and by spent I mean put myself in debt for), and have never dated, so maybe this really isn't for me). It felt like the book was simultaneously trying to make the mundane profound and stay mundane on purpose. Like a magic trick where you keep the rabbit in the hat and then just explain the metaphor.
The rest of the essays reminded me of when I had to write three different papers for three different classes, so I just swapped out a few synonyms and plugged in a slightly new anecdote. Technically different, but spiritually the same.
Again, those two standout essays were so well done. But the rest? It felt like talking to myself hitting sativa—trying to be chill, knowing I’m not chill, overanalyzing it, and somehow becoming even less chill. Also, ADHD. Lots of ADHD. I love Phoebe Bridgers and I feel bad disagreeing with her but this wasn't my cup of tea.
Thank you to Grand Central Publishing for gifting me this free ARC in exchange for an honest review.
NGL, I didn’t love this book. Reading it felt like a chore—like I was doing assigned reading for a class I didn’t sign up for. The only essays I really clicked with were How to Do the Right Thing and In Real Life (kind of). Those felt the most raw, personal, and like the writer dropped the performance a bit.
I feel a little bad for not loving a collection that I technically relate to. I’m a 30-year-old, American born meme-maker with severe mental illness who grew up on the internet so you'd think I'd relate more (but I'm also Latina, spent a ton of money on education (and by spent I mean put myself in debt for), and have never dated, so maybe this really isn't for me). It felt like the book was simultaneously trying to make the mundane profound and stay mundane on purpose. Like a magic trick where you keep the rabbit in the hat and then just explain the metaphor.
The rest of the essays reminded me of when I had to write three different papers for three different classes, so I just swapped out a few synonyms and plugged in a slightly new anecdote. Technically different, but spiritually the same.
Again, those two standout essays were so well done. But the rest? It felt like talking to myself hitting sativa—trying to be chill, knowing I’m not chill, overanalyzing it, and somehow becoming even less chill. Also, ADHD. Lots of ADHD. I love Phoebe Bridgers and I feel bad disagreeing with her but this wasn't my cup of tea.
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