The dislocations of the internet era get the listicle treatment in this charming if superficial survey. New York Times Book Review editor Paul (Rectangle Time) inventories "the things we achingly miss, the things we hardly knew existed, the things to which we can give a hard adios," including such behaviors as ignoring people ("It was useful to pretend to have no idea someone was trying to reach you") and "being in the moment" during a concert or other large gathering, rather than gazing at one's phone; qualities including patience and civility; and physical items like kitchen phones and checkbooks. "Every time the Internet swings the door wide open," Paul contends, "the consequences are at once liberating and dire." Previously, everyday life was "unimpeded by what was going on in other people's heads"; now, however, "the input never stops." While Paul occasionally brings in statistics and expert analysis, her rants are generally an accomplished solo act, enriched by her self-deprecating sense of humor (she describes her book as "grumpy old-man thoughts and wary skepticism, lashed through with a contrary streak of optimism"). Readers who remember the dawning of the internet era will find plenty to commiserate with in this mostly lighthearted lament. Illus. (Oct.)

The editor of the New York Times Book Review offers dismayed lamentations on all that is being lost to the internet. In her latest, Paul analyzes the implications of the internet age, deploying "my grumpy-old-man thoughts and wary skepticism, lashed through with a contrary streak of optimism, accumulated over years of observing the cul-ture and covering its manifestations and effects." She acknowledges the putative treasures and tools of the internet, but she reminds readers that for every gain, there is a loss--e.g., privacy, civility, or myriad products, services, and practices we may have thought to be timeless. To many, writes the author, we can say good riddance or a fond farewell, though she aches for the loss of others. From handwritten letters to quiet, unoccupied moments, cursive writing to vacations without work (or email), school librarians to newspapers, LPs to mixtapes to the notion of "closure"--so much we thought eternal is quaintly antiquarian or gone forever. As Paul engagingly shows, their replacements aren't always an advance. Yet one thing Paul neglects to address, save by implication, is the power of "no." We are not forced in every case to accede to fashion, to all of modern technology's demands, or to the dictates of contemporary sensibilities. Paul is incisive when she gets serious, as in her regrets on the decline of reading (especially of books), diminishing opportunities for solitude, and our eroding capacity for empathy. But some of her death knells are premature, a stretch, too sweeping, or off-base, while others come off as overly tongue-in-cheek. It's understandable that Paul writes as if Gen X reality (and that of their children) is a dominant force. Still, there are plenty of people pushing back against the tide in meaningful ways. The author should know there are also 100 ways to resist digital dominance as well. A mixed-bag cultural assessment of the internet landscape. Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.