Four Thousand Weeks was a nice contemplation on the art of leisure and appreciating the present moment. It didn’t have as profound an effect on me as it seemed to have on other people, mostly because I went down many similar rabbit holes as Burkeman for my own book.
It was still very good and a book I’d consider reading again. Here’s a passage that stood out:
It turns out that when people make enough money to meet their needs, they just find new things to need and new lifestyles to aspire to; they never quite manage to keep up with the Joneses, because whenever they’re in danger of getting close, they nominate new and better Joneses with whom to try to keep up. As a result, they work harder and harder, and soon busyness becomes an emblem of prestige.
Which is clearly completely absurd: for almost the whole of history, the entire point of being rich was not having to work so much. Moreover, the busyness of the better-off is contagious, because one extremely effective way to make more money, for those at the top of the tree, is to cut costs and make efficiency improvements in their companies and industries. That means greater insecurity for those lower down, who are then obliged to work harder just to get by.