Book Review: Four Thousand Weeks

This book is great for “productivity nerds,” a group the author identifies with, although it is not in the same vein a la “Eat That Frog!” or “Getting Things Done”. It weaves meanderingly through a philosophical analysis of time, being, and existence. The author takes the reader on a metaphysical journey that references Heidegger, Jung, and Nietzche, examining the personal lives of famous dead people like Kafka. He spends the first half of the book speaking tangentially, almost on purpose, about the meaning of life and our “finitude.”

The thesis is an ancient one, originating from the Chinese dao de jing (the Way) and a Stoic view of life. What happens, happens. Our lives are a mere and brief speck in the infinitude of time. But Mr. Burkeman’s spin on “living in the present” strikes me as pointedly convincing, even inspiring. He offers some practical tools along the way, like a “digital Sabbath” or finding an amateur hobby, but it is the philosophical framework that he so skilfully constructs that inspires you (ironically) to action.

To act is to decide. It is to choose, among the infinite possibilities of the future, one possible future that you commit in the present. He tells the readers that the etymology of decide comes from the Latin cognate decider, which also means to break. It is worth mentioning that in the Malay language, a similar evolution of words converged on the same meaning: putus (to break) is the root of memutuskan (to decide). It is this act of breaking away, the violence of taking a decision, and the necessity of summoning the will to do it, which forces us to live and function in the moment. In this strand, Mr. Burkeman criticizes the void of the attention economy. He harangues our dear reader on the ills of mindless doomscrolling and being distracted. But he offers solace, forgiving the vulnerable social media consumer in what he depicts as a David and Goliath tug-of-war for attention.

Yet, it is this metaphysical realization in the middle of the book that propels his argument even further. It is easy to dismiss, with almost flippant, casual reasoning, since our existences are so individually meaningless and powerless to bear the brunt of modernity, that we should simply become mindless zombies — couch potatoes with pointed index fingers scrolling and clicking away our inconsequential lives. But Mr. Burkeman dismisses it with fervor. He calls our dear reader to action to accept, almost happily, the Sisyphian task of living. His antidote? Living in the banal moment, and accepting it just as it is.

A common thread woven through the different chapters is the conflict between finality and infinity. We, the finite, human and decaying animated mater (astute readers would recognize this instantly as Aurelian) are pitted against the infinite, universal and permanent inanimate story of the world. In recognizing our humanity — our finite fragility in the terrifying vastness of the universe and indeed, of all history past and future — we can accept our fate and still choose to make a difference. His call to action is not grand. It’s not even in the least revolutionary. It’s definitely not going to “make a dent in the universe” (which Mr. Burkeman himself references). It’s mundane. It’s banal. It’s pedestrian. But hey, that’s life — all four thousand weeks of it. And we should give it our best.