This book seemed inevitable to happen. To happen to me, that is. As someone extremely introverted and reclusive, I was immediately drawn to the topic when a good friend recommended it (thank you, Angela!). As Laing points out in the very beginning, a person need not be alone to feel lonely. In fact, a person can become quite lonely and isolated in a city full of millions of people. Surrounding yourself with a large crowd or living in a densely populated area doesn’t necessarily preclude this feeling. So how does loneliness happen and why? Where do these isolated feelings arise from and how do we overcome them? How do we create intimacy and connection with others?

Part memoir and part biography, Laing unearths the lives of artists where loneliness plays a central role to their work. We see Andy Warhol and how, despite his notoriety and creation of the modern Superstar, ends up in a lifelong struggle with intimacy—both physical and emotional. There’s David Wojnarowicz, who deals with the particular loneliness of losing loved ones and friends during the AIDS epidemic in the 80s. We learn about the extremely reclusive life of Henry Darger, who wrote one of the largest tomes and bodies of artwork on the planet without anyone knowing about it during his lifetime. Throughout these biographies, we see Laing trying to connect the dots with anecdotes about her own life—in particular, thoughts that draw upon her life in the city, her coming to grips with her sexuality and the rigidity of gender roles, and her bittersweet relationship with online media. This book will introduce you to artists that have had very difficult upbringings and strained relationships with the outside world. However, despite their often tragic circumstances, there is redemption—ultimately, art allows them to rise above and connect with others.

A part of the book deals with newer technologies—in particular, reality television and social media—and how these media seem to both alleviate and exacerbate loneliness. I often struggle with these feelings myself, having to take periodic breaks from social media. We want to know what is going on in each other’s lives without genuine interaction. We crave validation, and people are reduced to pixels. Perhaps we are more accessible than ever before, but not necessarily more connected.

I am a suburbanite. I don’t know the particular loneliness of living in a city like New York, but I do know that my loneliest moments have all taken place in crowded rooms and at parties. It is these moments where the camera lens zooms out, where you can feel most insignificant, practically infinitesimal.

I read this book on a plane to California. The flight was packed full of people. It could’ve been one of those instances where I felt completely isolated and small, but I felt connected. I felt connected because I was reading a book knowing there were others, plenty of others, who felt just as I did.