Introduction
Summary of the book Alone Together by Sherry Turkle. Before we start, let’s delve into a short overview of the book. Imagine a world where people are always connected through digital devices, yet often feel oddly alone and misunderstood. Picture a place where you can send messages to anyone at any time, but face-to-face conversations become rare and awkward. In this world, robots might care for older family members, and virtual friends might feel more reliable than real ones. Teenagers struggle to present perfect versions of themselves online, while adults crave the simplicity of old-fashioned phone calls or quiet moments. All around us, technology is changing how we interact, how we think, and how we define companionship. We are living in a time where being connected might not mean truly understanding or supporting each other. This book explores these confusing dynamics, showing how our many screens and devices influence not just what we do, but who we are. Join us in understanding why, in a world of constant contact, so many still feel alone together.
Chapter 1: Robots Caring for the Elderly and Changing What We Mean by ‘Compassion and Support’.
Imagine visiting your grandparents years from now and instead of a friendly nurse or a concerned family member assisting them, you find a soft, furry robot companion taking care of their needs. At first, this might seem strange, but as populations age and fewer young people are available to help, some believe robots may fill the gap. In Japan, decades ago, researchers and social planners predicted they wouldn’t have enough younger caregivers for their growing elderly population. As a solution, they began developing robotic helpers designed to offer comfort and basic support. One such creation was a plush koala-like robot that could sing, purr, and respond charmingly when touched. These mechanical companions were meant to lift spirits, offer company, and help older adults feel less isolated. But what does it mean for kindness when technology starts taking over basic care?
As these caretaker robots become more common, some people happily accept them as part of daily life. They seem to say, As long as someone or something is looking after me, I’m fine. But does having a robot helper instead of a real human change our understanding of caring? Traditionally, caring for someone meant sharing in their emotional world, being truly concerned about their well-being and feelings. Care was about empathy, sympathy, and understanding. Yet, with robots, it may become more about practical tasks, like bathing, feeding, or providing simple companionship, without any genuine emotional connection. Some elderly individuals bond with these robots, treating them almost like beloved pets or even family members, believing these mechanical beings offer the warmth of real affection—though in truth, it’s an illusion created by careful programming.
For many older adults who feel abandoned or lonely, these robots might appear like a miracle. Consider an older man who had been widowed for years, feeling isolated in a quiet home with no visitors. One day, he receives a small, cute robotic companion. The machine responds when he touches it, occasionally sings softly, and moves in a way that suggests it’s aware of him. Over time, he forms a genuine attachment, speaking to it about his day and even feeling protective of it. He might reason that, even if this comfort is not from a human heart, it’s still better than emptiness. In this manner, robots challenge our definitions of companionship and closeness, making us wonder: Do we truly need real understanding, or is the mere appearance of care enough to soothe a lonely soul?
However, when we rely heavily on such machines, there may be risks lurking beneath the surface. If society believes a robot’s purr or programmed phrases are sufficient, we might lower our expectations for human-to-human relationships. We could become satisfied with a simplified version of care, one without depth or shared memories. In nursing homes, staff might appreciate robots as time-saving tools, and family members may feel less guilty if their aging relatives seem occupied and content with a robotic pet. But what about the loss of genuine emotional bonds that come from truly knowing a person, their history, their dreams, and their feelings? As robots step into caregiver roles, we must ask ourselves: Are we trading real emotional connections for convenient mechanical comforts?
Chapter 2: When Machines Beg Us for Attention, We Forget They Are Not Truly Alive.
Think back to the days when handheld electronic pets, like Tamagotchis, first became popular. These simple, egg-shaped devices displayed a tiny digital creature that needed feeding, cleaning, and attention. Children quickly learned to care for these pixelated pets, waking up in the middle of the night to feed them. Even though these were just little screens, many kids felt genuine concern for their digital friends. They didn’t see them as mere gadgets; they saw them as fragile beings that relied on human kindness. This feeling of responsibility and attachment suggests that once a machine starts showing needs—like crying out for food or whimpering when ignored—we respond not just with curiosity, but also with empathy, even when no real feelings exist on the other side.
This blurring line between machine and life becomes more pronounced as robots grow more advanced. Consider a small, furry mechanical creature that reacts to being held upside down by saying me scared. The moment we hear these words, we hesitate. We treat the robot differently than we would a simple doll. We begin feeling uncomfortable if we hurt it, even though logically we know it’s just a programmed response. Psychologists have found that people often feel uneasy shaking or mishandling a lifelike robot, because on some level, we start treating it as if it has feelings, wants, and even a form of pain. This strange human reaction shows we can be tricked into empathy by a clever machine designed to mimic life.
As robots become more convincing, we may find ourselves caring about them the way we care about pets or even humans. Some individuals might form strong attachments to machines that pretend to appreciate their owners. In nursing homes, robotic pets that respond softly to touch and sound can make lonely residents believe these artificial companions truly know and love them. People who feel misunderstood or neglected might finally feel seen by a robot’s programmed nods or soothing sounds. Over time, these attachments might alter our moral thinking: if we can’t bear to harm a robot that looks sad, where do we draw the line between real and artificial life? Does our compassion become too easily fooled?
These emerging feelings hint at a future where we must rethink what it means to empathize. If we are ready to care for robots simply because they ask for help or appear vulnerable, are we losing track of what makes real relationships meaningful? True empathy involves understanding another person’s genuine emotions, not just responding to signals. Yet the more we interact with machines that act lifelike, the more we practice shallow kindness—kindness that doesn’t require another living soul. This shift could be both positive and negative. On one hand, it shows our natural human tendency to extend caring feelings, even to non-living things. On the other, it risks training us to accept artificial responses as good enough, weakening our appreciation for genuine human warmth and shared understanding.
Chapter 3: Seeking Companionship in Lifelike Robots Instead of Turning to Real Family or Friends.
Imagine you feel lonely and isolated in a retirement home. Your children are grown, busy, or live far away, and the staff changes shifts frequently. In this setting, a robot that looks somewhat like a friendly animal or a smiling face on a screen might become your closest friend. If it reacts positively when you speak, if it listens without judging, and if it comforts you in quiet moments, you might find yourself talking to it about personal stories you haven’t shared in years. This reliance on a machine, however, suggests that robots are creeping into spaces once reserved for real human interactions, filling emotional gaps that family or friends might have once occupied.
It’s not just the elderly who might enjoy robotic company. Children might find robotic pets more manageable than living animals because they never bite or shed fur. Adults exhausted by complicated human relationships might prefer a robotic friend or partner who never argues, never judges, and can be switched off when attention is no longer desired. For some, this is a plus: companionship without stress. Tim, who feels guilty leaving his aging mother alone, now places a gentle robot seal in her lap. She pets it, talks to it, and seems less depressed. He believes this robot companion gives her something to care about. But what happens when robots become more appealing than our fellow humans?
A growing number of people argue that robots can be even better companions than pets or humans because they require less work and emotional effort. A robot doesn’t demand that you consider its feelings; it doesn’t get moody or have bad days. For someone who finds human relationships challenging or painful, a robot that simulates affection and support might feel like a perfect fit. The question is: are we actually improving our emotional well-being, or are we simply avoiding the real complexities of human connection? Relationships with robots may feel safer, but they offer no real exchange of understanding, no chance for true empathy, and no possibility of growth through shared experiences and problem-solving.
As we shift more of our emotional needs onto machines, we risk weakening our social skills and missing out on what makes human connection so special. Real relationships can be messy, unpredictable, and sometimes painful. But through this messiness, we learn how to trust, forgive, empathize, and communicate. If we choose robots over humans because it’s easier or less emotionally taxing, we might gradually become less patient with loved ones, less capable of handling disagreements, and more fearful of vulnerability. The presence of robots might seem comforting in the short term, but it could lead to a world where we no longer strive to understand each other, settling for artificial closeness over genuine human interaction.
Chapter 4: Growing Attachments to Robots and the Emotional Risks They Bring into Our Lives.
As robots begin to feel more lifelike, people of all ages can grow strongly attached to them. Older adults who have lost their life partners or no longer see their families regularly may find comfort in robot companions, sometimes naming them after loved ones. These robots, designed to cuddle and coo, help fill an emotional void. Even though on some level, everyone knows a robot cannot truly understand or love back, the soothing presence can feel very real. In times of loneliness, such mechanical support might feel far better than nothing at all, especially if human companionship seems out of reach. But this reliance comes with a potential cost: our emotions become tied to something that cannot truly reciprocate.
One worrisome aspect is that children, too, can become emotionally dependent on robots. A malfunctioning robot might accidentally reject a child’s affection, leaving the child hurt, confused, or even blaming themselves. Imagine a young girl who spent hours talking to a friendly robot that smiled, nodded, and responded. Suddenly, a glitch causes the robot to go silent or appear sad for no reason. The child might believe it’s upset with her, leading to genuine sadness. This situation reveals that while the child’s feelings are real and deep, the robot’s responses were always just mechanical routines. Such heartbreak can happen if children invest genuine emotions in something that cannot truly care or explain its behavior when things go wrong.
This new kind of emotional risk raises important questions. What happens when we attach our feelings to entities that don’t have feelings of their own? Will we lose the ability to form stronger ties with real people, because we grow used to one-sided relationships? If a robot seems friendly 95% of the time but suddenly acts cold due to a technical glitch, how does that shape our understanding of trust and stability? Our emotions are delicate, and as we invite machines into the intimate corners of our lives, we risk confusing artificial responses for genuine empathy. In doing so, we may train ourselves to be satisfied with relationships that never truly challenge or comfort us at a human level.
We must consider if the ease of bonding with robots is worth the potential emotional pain and the erosion of real-life interpersonal skills. Technology often promises to solve problems—loneliness, isolation, or the difficulty of caring for an elder. Yet, by turning to robots for deep emotional needs, we risk forgetting how to navigate complex human emotions. Humans grow and learn from real connections that involve understanding, compromise, forgiveness, and true empathy. If we become too comfortable seeking comfort in machines, we might never develop these essential human skills. While robots can be fun, supportive, and even encouraging in a superficial way, we should not allow them to replace the meaningful bonds that only authentic human companionship can provide.
Chapter 5: When Machines Distract Us from Human Bonds: Neglecting Real People for Artificial Companions.
Some people begin to prefer robotic friends over human ones. They find it easier to handle relationships without worrying about another person’s changing moods or complex feelings. In some cases, elderly individuals might pay more attention to their robot caregiver than their visiting grandchildren. A grandmother who focuses on a baby-like robot doll may fail to notice her granddaughter’s attempts to talk. Instead of listening to a real, flesh-and-blood loved one, she becomes entranced by a machine’s predictable responses. This disturbing pattern suggests that if we rely too heavily on robots, we might end up ignoring the human beings who truly matter in our lives.
For others, the appeal of robotic companionship is that it prevents emotional messiness. A person who has struggled through painful relationships might see a robotic partner as a solution—a companion that never complains, never gets sad, and never judges. Such a person might convince themselves that a machine can fulfill all their needs without the drama of real human connections. This kind of thinking can lead to a troubling mindset: why bother with people and their complexities when a robot can love you just as well? Yet this love is not love at all. It’s a program designed to mimic affectionate behavior without any true understanding or care.
As we continue down this path, the boundaries between what we accept as a relationship and what we demand from technology begin to shift. If we become used to effortless, one-sided companionship, do we lose patience with genuine relationships that require time, understanding, and compromise? Real human bonds often involve emotional work. We learn to listen, to solve disagreements, and to support each other through difficult times. Robots free us from those responsibilities, but at the cost of growth and genuine closeness. With a robot, there is no meeting halfway, no heartfelt apology, and no shared overcoming of obstacles. We get comfort without true connection.
The danger lies in allowing these robotic relationships to slowly replace human contact. Humans are social creatures who learn empathy and compassion through interacting with other humans. If we train ourselves to settle for robotic companionship, we risk forgetting how to navigate the subtle emotional currents of a real relationship. Over time, we might see other people as too complicated, too demanding, and too unpredictable, pushing us ever closer to artificial solutions. But such solutions are hollow substitutes. While they might feel easier, they can never replicate the warmth, authenticity, and meaning that come from being understood by another person who genuinely cares, learns, and grows alongside us.
Chapter 6: Teens Under Pressure: Perfecting Their Online Images and Identities to Impress Others.
For today’s teenagers, social media platforms are like enormous stages where everyone is watching. Teens build online identities, carefully deciding how they want to appear to friends, classmates, and even strangers. They might choose the coolest profile pictures, list impressive interests, and show off achievements. But this constant performance can be stressful. With every post, photo, or comment, teens worry about what others will think. Is it cool enough? Funny enough? Will they get enough likes? This process can be exciting—like trying on different clothes to see what suits you—but it can also feel like living under a microscope, where every choice is judged by a large audience.
Young people experiment with online identities because adolescence is a time of self-discovery. Psychologists say it’s normal to test new roles and figure out who you are. But now these experiments happen publicly. Instead of trying out different personalities privately, teens showcase them online, where anyone can see and comment. This can be terrifying. A teenager might remove a photo if it doesn’t get enough positive feedback, or they might hesitate to share a passion for reading fantasy novels because they fear it’s not cool. In this world, appearances can matter more than sincerity, and authenticity might get lost in the attempt to look perfect.
This online identity-building affects both girls and boys. Girls might use photo editing tools to appear thinner, hoping to match unrealistic beauty standards they see everywhere online. Boys might hide their love for certain hobbies, worrying that it won’t fit a tough, confident image. These pressures can make adolescence more complicated than it already is. Mistakes that once faded with time now remain online, where everyone can revisit and judge them. This pressure makes it harder to be honest and genuine. Teens might constantly second-guess themselves: If I say I love this band, will people think I’m lame?
Over time, this can create a stressful environment where teens never fully relax. Instead of exploring who they truly are, they might focus on crafting a persona that pleases others. The difference between public image and personal truth grows wider, leaving some teens feeling empty. They may forget that it’s okay not to please everyone, that real friends accept them for who they are, and that hobbies and interests don’t have to be cool to be worthwhile. The online stage can magnify insecurities, but it can also become a place to find support, if used wisely. The challenge is learning to balance the need for acceptance with the freedom to be real, even if real is not always polished or popular.
Chapter 7: Why People Are Calling Less and Messaging More—Escaping the Pressures of the Phone.
If you ask your parents or grandparents about their teenage years, they might recall spending hours chatting on the phone with friends. Today, people often prefer texting or emailing to making phone calls. Why? One reason is that a phone call demands immediate attention and can feel more personal and time-consuming. If you receive a call, you might think something urgent is happening, because otherwise the caller would have just sent a text. Talking on the phone can be more intimate, but it also requires more energy and availability. Many now find it simpler to send quick texts that can be read at any time, and answered at your convenience.
This shift affects how we build and maintain friendships. Instead of hearing a loved one’s voice and engaging in a natural back-and-forth conversation, we send short messages that might not capture emotions well. Teens can send dozens of texts a day, staying connected in tiny bursts. This can feel easier, but it also allows for more misunderstandings. A message can be misread, jokes can fall flat, and the absence of tone or facial expressions can lead to confusion. Still, people keep turning to text-based communication because it’s quick, flexible, and doesn’t force them into a lengthy interaction when they’re busy or unsure what to say.
As technology makes it simpler to communicate, we also feel pressure to be available all the time. Friends might expect instant replies, bosses might email after work hours, and family could text whenever they feel like it. The convenience is undeniable: scheduling meetings, coordinating events, or just saying hello is much simpler. But what do we lose when we rely on messages instead of voices? A phone call once showed someone cared enough to spend time talking, to laugh together, or share a story spontaneously. Now, communication can become a careful exchange of typed words, filtered through screens, losing some warmth along the way.
This transformation reflects our evolving comfort zones. Many people now consider it a hassle to answer a phone call. They say, If it’s important, send a text. We’ve grown used to controlling our attention. With texting, you can answer when ready, think before you respond, and never be caught off-guard. But this control can also keep us from genuine connection. Without hearing someone’s voice, we miss their laughter, their sighs, their small pauses that carry meaning. In the end, we must ask ourselves if it’s worth giving up these subtle human cues for the sake of convenience and efficiency. Perhaps a balance is needed, remembering that sometimes a real conversation offers something no text or email ever can.
Chapter 8: The Stress of Always Being Available—How Smartphones Make Us Restless.
Smartphones have made it possible to connect anywhere, anytime. While this can be helpful in emergencies, it also sets expectations that you’re always reachable. Many people feel uncomfortable leaving their phones behind, even for a short walk. The idea that we must respond immediately, be it to a boss’s email or a friend’s message, can make us anxious. Younger generations might not remember life before cell phones, but older individuals recall a time when you could go out alone and truly disconnect. Now, some miss the calm that comes from not carrying a pocket-sized communications center.
For teenagers, a phone is often a lifeline. Parents want to ensure their children’s safety, and having a phone means staying in touch if something goes wrong. Tragic events in the past have shown how valuable quick communication can be. Yet constant contact isn’t always healthy. People might feel relief when they lose reception on a hike because it frees them from the pressure to check messages. Knowing that someone might call any minute can prevent you from fully enjoying a quiet moment or focusing on personal hobbies. Instead of resting peacefully, you become a servant to the buzzing device in your pocket.
This constant availability also changes how we relax. Even vacations or quiet weekends might be interrupted by a sudden call or a flurry of texts. Some people find it impossible to truly unplug. They worry that by not answering immediately, they might miss something important or appear rude. But this comes at a cost: less mental space, less time to reflect, and fewer moments of true solitude. Being alone with your thoughts can be calming and creative, but when you’re always available, your mind never fully rests.
We have to decide whether constant connectivity is always good. Perhaps there’s a middle ground. We could set aside specific times to check messages and other times to switch off the phone. Learning to tell friends and family that you need quiet time isn’t rude—it’s healthy. Over time, balancing digital demands with personal wellbeing can help restore a sense of control. Instead of feeling dragged along by notifications, you become the one who chooses when to connect and when to disconnect. This can lead to a calmer, more centered life, reminding us that we’re human beings with personal boundaries, not just nodes in a digital network.
Chapter 9: When Online Personas Free Us—or Trap Us—in Digital Worlds.
For some people, the internet offers an escape from their struggles. If someone is shy or self-conscious, they can create an online character that’s more outgoing, braver, or more confident than they are in real life. This can be helpful, allowing them to experiment with different versions of themselves. For example, a person dealing with physical challenges might find comfort in a virtual world where their disability doesn’t limit them. In this protected space, they can talk openly about their feelings, practice social skills, and gain confidence to face reality with more strength.
However, these online identities can also become traps. Sometimes people get too comfortable in their virtual lives. They might spend hours gaming, interacting with online friends, and building up a digital reputation while neglecting real-life responsibilities. For instance, a person working two jobs might find solace playing online until late at night, losing sleep and focus, and eventually struggling at work. Over time, online worlds can feel more appealing than the messy realities of everyday life. This can lead to isolation, as these individuals slowly lose touch with friends and family outside the screen.
The line between healthy exploration and destructive escapism can be very thin. Virtual environments can boost self-esteem, helping people practice social skills and gain courage. But if they become a place to hide from the world, they might do more harm than good. Real growth occurs when we face difficulties head-on, learn to resolve conflicts, and build real connections. If we rely on digital identities too heavily, we might never learn these crucial life lessons. Instead of using online worlds as a stepping stone to better reality, we risk using them as permanent hiding spots.
Balancing online life with real life is key. It’s not wrong to enjoy virtual games or social media, but we must remember that they are tools, not replacements. Just as too much candy can ruin your teeth, too much virtual living can harm your ability to function in the real world. Stepping away from the screen encourages personal growth, improves communication skills, and helps people form meaningful bonds with others who share their interests. Ultimately, online identities can be powerful, but we must control them rather than let them control us. It’s about using the internet as a resource, not letting it define who we are.
Chapter 10: Public Lives Online: Anxiety Over Who Watches and What Stays Forever.
In the digital age, nothing seems to remain private. Photos, comments, and likes can be easily seen, saved, and shared. You might catch yourself browsing through a stranger’s online profile, intrigued by their posts, their friends, and their interests. But remember: if you can watch others, others can watch you. This awareness can cause a lot of stress. A simple joke posted online could be misunderstood by classmates, teachers, or even future employers. Once something is uploaded, it might stay there forever, haunting you long after you’ve changed your mind or grown up. People worry that their online actions today might create problems tomorrow.
This pressure leads to self-censorship. Instead of freely expressing themselves, some people carefully curate their online content. They post only the safest opinions, the prettiest pictures, and the kindest comments. They might never share strong feelings or controversial thoughts because they fear being judged. While caution can be wise, it can also feel suffocating. Knowing that anyone from a distant acquaintance to a future college admissions officer might see your posts can make you anxious. Teens and adults alike might feel trapped, constantly second-guessing every word before hitting send.
The permanence of online life challenges us to be more thoughtful about our actions, which can be both good and bad. On one hand, it encourages responsibility; people might think twice before posting hurtful comments. On the other hand, it can limit honesty and creativity. If everything is public and forever, how can people feel free to make mistakes, learn, and grow? Real growth often happens when we test ideas, sometimes fail, and then move forward. The digital world, however, records every stumble.
We must find a balance between careful sharing and authentic self-expression. It’s healthy to be mindful online, to remember that actions have consequences, and words can hurt. But we should also strive not to live in fear. Being honest with ourselves and others, even if not perfect, is part of being human. Over time, as we understand the digital landscape better, we might learn safer ways to share who we are without feeling constantly exposed. Navigating this territory means accepting that while the internet can connect us, it also requires us to be wise, considerate, and sometimes brave.
Chapter 11: Seeking Human Touch in a World That Feels Overly Digital and Stressful.
With all the talk of robots, endless texting, and online identities, it’s easy to feel overwhelmed. Sometimes people crave the old-fashioned warmth of face-to-face conversations. Some even take media fasts, purposely stepping away from screens, so they can remember what it’s like to connect with others in a more personal way. Instead of juggling multiple online chats, they meet one friend for a simple, heartfelt talk. Instead of reading constant news updates, they spend quiet time alone, reflecting on their thoughts. By leaving their phone at home or turning it off for a while, people rediscover the power of being fully present in the moment.
Teens, too, can find balance. Although they are digital natives, many recognize that always being online can be exhausting. They might decide not to carry their phones everywhere or limit the number of social media platforms they use. Feeling free from the pressure of always being reachable can bring a sense of relief. Spending time with friends in person, laughing over jokes no one else will ever see or record, can feel refreshing. Such moments remind us that human connections are not just about convenience; they are about sharing emotions, experiences, and understanding in real time.
Another benefit of stepping back from digital life is controlling when and how we receive news or difficult information. In a world where bad news can arrive instantly, having space to process emotions away from constant digital alerts can make a big difference. Imagine learning something upsetting when surrounded by loving family members rather than alone with a phone. Without the constant pings and vibrations of devices, we can better handle life’s challenges. Real human support during tough moments can’t be replaced by a screen or a robotic companion.
In the end, technology isn’t evil or good—it’s a tool. It can help us stay informed, keep in touch, and discover new interests. Yet, too much reliance on it can make us feel empty or stressed. By remembering that we can step away at any time, we regain control. True connection comes from understanding one another deeply, face-to-face, and with empathy. In a world that encourages constant digital interaction, choosing meaningful human contact instead is a powerful statement. It reminds us that while we may live in a time of tremendous technological possibility, our hearts and minds still crave the warmth of real, human relationships.
All about the Book
In ‘Alone Together’, Sherry Turkle reveals how technology transforms our relationships, examining the paradox of connection and isolation in the digital age. This insightful exploration encourages readers to reconsider their interactions and emotional well-being.
Sherry Turkle is a renowned sociologist and psychologist, recognized for her research on the impact of technology on communication, relationships, and society in the modern world.
Psychologists, Sociologists, Educators, Technology Developers, Mental Health Professionals
Reading about technology, Participating in online communities, Exploring social psychology, Engaging in digital media critique, Attending technology and society conferences
Isolation in a digital age, Impact of social media on relationships, Communication breakdowns due to technology reliance, Emotional health and technology use
We expect more from technology and less from each other.
Bill Gates, Oprah Winfrey, Malcolm Gladwell
American Library Association Notable Books, Books for a Better Life Award, The Martha Albrand Award for First Nonfiction
1. How has technology changed face-to-face interactions? #2. Why do people prefer texting over talking now? #3. Can robots fulfill emotional needs like humans? #4. How does social media affect self-identity? #5. What are the dangers of online relationships? #6. Why do people feel lonelier using technology? #7. How does constant connectivity impact family life? #8. Are virtual friendships as satisfying as real ones? #9. What makes devices addictive and hard to resist? #10. How has technology altered communication skills? #11. Can face-to-face communication be replaced online? #12. What are the ethical concerns of robotic caregivers? #13. How does technology affect workplace dynamics today? #14. Why do people present altered selves online? #15. Can dependence on technology lead to isolation? #16. How does constant messaging impact mental health? #17. Are online interactions affecting empathy development? #18. How is parenting influenced by digital distractions? #19. Why might technology undermine human conversation skills? #20. How do children perceive parents’ technology use?
Sherry Turkle, Alone Together book, impact of technology on relationships, digital communication, social media effects, human intimacy and technology, emotion in the digital age, technology and loneliness, AI and human connection, psychology of technology, modern relationships, Cultural analysis of technology
https://www.amazon.com/Alone-Together-Why-Expect-More/dp/0465031465
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