Four Thousand Weeks by Oliver Burkeman – Book Review

 

Publisher’s write-up:

‘What if you tried to stop doing everything, so you could finally get round to what counts?

Rejecting the futile modern obsession with 'getting everything done,' Four Thousand Weeks introduces readers to tools for constructing a meaningful life by embracing rather than denying their limitations.

Drawing on the insights of both ancient and contemporary philosophers, psychologists, and spiritual teachers, Oliver Burkeman sets out to realign our relationship with time - and in doing so, to liberate us from its tyranny.

Embrace your limits. Change your life. Discover how to make your four thousand weeks count in 2024.’

Four Thousand Weeks – as the title says, is a book on time management for mortals by the former journalist Oliver Burkeman. Life is finite but our ambitions are not. It is not uncommon to find ourselves feel guilty for not clearing out our “to do lists” or chasing our ambition while doing our daily job – all within the finite life that we have. With hustle culture on the rise, the author tries to make the point that life would be a lot better if we accept that it is finite and we would not be able to achieve everything we intend to.

The title of the book – four thousand weeks is a reference to the average life span of a human being – with 4000 weeks amounting to approximately 77 years. It is split into fourteen chapters, where the author makes his case, as to how the modern world has this obsession over productivity – often tied to capitalism. An example I would give is the efficiency myth at work that the author talks about – that if an employee completes their tasks within the given time, they do not get more time, they are given more tasks. The author gives several contemporary examples, on the unreasonable expectations we have of ourselves and to accept that “settling down” is not bad but is something positive.

I liked the idea of the book, and also the message that the author was trying to convey. I have been through the cycle of “productivity obsession” and thinking of life as a permanent “personality development” quest, feeling guilty every time for simply relaxing. I felt the author also gave several contemporary examples, relatable to the current readership, such as Amazon – and their obsession with having their home page loaded as fast as possible (which is a question of seconds). This is a book that came out in 2021 and I read it in 2025, and thus one thing that is missing from the book is the interactive AI models that we have today.

However, I felt that the book was long and that the point that he wanted to make was already made by the seventh chapter. The title was also a “clickbait” – given he did not talk about the “short lifespan” barring the introduction and it was more about time management and far less about our mortality. On that note, any number put on time would feel short – suppose the title had been 672 000 Hours – people would have had the same level of alarm over the fact that we live less than a million hours.

The appendix, with the ten suggestions on time management, was interesting and I felt they were practical. It was however not aligned with the tone of the book, given the author was telling us to ignore most of the advice related to “time management” from books and influencers and in the end, gave a set of advice himself, like every other author on this subject.

To conclude, I would say that the book is a good read and is helpful if one wants to get out of the obsession with productivity. The book has its flaws, but in the end, the reader has something to take away. On that note, I would award the book a rating of seven on ten.

Rating – 7/10

Have a nice day
Andy

Revenge of the Tipping Point by Malcolm Gladwell – Book Review

 

Publisher’s write-up:

‘Twenty-five years after the publication of his groundbreaking first book, Malcolm Gladwell returns with a brand-new volume that reframes the lessons of The Tipping Point in a startling and revealing light.

Why is Miami…Miami? What does the heartbreaking fate of the cheetah tell us about the way we raise our children? Why do Ivy League schools care so much about sports? What is the Magic Third, and what does it mean for racial harmony? In this provocative new work, Malcolm Gladwell returns for the first time in twenty-five years to the subject of social epidemics and tipping points, this time with the aim of explaining the dark side of contagious phenomena.

Through a series of riveting stories, Gladwell traces the rise of a new and troubling form of social engineering. He takes us to the streets of Los Angeles to meet the world’s most successful bank robbers, rediscovers a forgotten television show from the 1970s that changed the world, visits the site of a historic experiment on a tiny cul-de-sac in northern California, and offers an alternate history of two of the biggest epidemics of our day: COVID and the opioid crisis. Revenge of the Tipping Point is Gladwell’s most personal book yet. With his characteristic mix of storytelling and social science, he offers a guide to making sense of the contagions of modern world. It’s time we took tipping points seriously.’

Revenge of the Tipping Point is a book from the author and journalist Malcolm Gladwell, who looks back at his book written in the 90s, called The Tipping Point. While I have not read that book, I understood from reading this book that for any major societal changes, there is a ‘tipping point’ after which the phenomenon is normalised and spreads across. While the previous book explored the positive aspects of the tipping point, this book explores the ‘revenge’, the negative consequences of the same tipping point.

The author explains through various stories, such as the health care system in the US, college admissions, covid-19 misinformation; wherein once a tipping point on anti-vax sentiment is reached, it is normalised in the particular community very fast, leading to the reappearance of diseases that were eradicated in the past. Most of the author’s examples are concentrated around the US, many picking up from where the author had left off.

I liked the idea of the book and the book was well written and was made more powerful by adding personal stories of people along with statistics and figures to support the findings. Given I read it in early 2025, many of the examples were relatable given we had just come past the Covid pandemic; something which all of us faced regardless of where we were. Same with many apparent ‘settled issues’ from the 90s, as progress attained, now being reopened by the right-wing culture wars, such as the attack on transgender rights or anti-affirmative action remarks; where even that has reached the same ‘tipping point’ making it acceptable to voice these opinions in public.

That said, I felt the author had a single conclusion in the book, on the tipping point and its effects. That was a point that was made to me by the time I finished the first two chapters but anything beyond that was repetition and to finish the book, I had to put in a lot of effort given I had lost interest in many of the subsequent stories given the point that was made was the same; that a tipping point was reached and it had negative consequences.

This could have been a short essay that could have been added as an addendum in the 25^th anniversary edition of the Tipping Point rather than having a whole book and I can imagine why those who had read the previous book were disappointed by this, because they do not learn anything beyond what had already been expressed in the previous book. While I have not read that book, I had read this book a book club discussion and this seemed to be a unanimous view of those who had read the Tipping Point. Another issue was that the book was heavily US centric and at felt, it fell into the trap of projecting what was happening in the US as universal and applicable to the rest of the world.

To conclude, I felt it was a necessary topic to be discussed given the current political climate with the return of the culture wars and reexamination of what were thought to be settled issues when it comes to attaining rights and liberties after years of activism. However, the point could have been made in a concise manner rather than having such a detailed book. On that note, I would award the book a rating of six on ten.

Rating – 6/10

Have a nice day,
Andy

Kallocain by Karin Boye – Book Review

 

Afin de lire mon avis de lecture en français, cliquez ici

Publisher’s write-up:

‘Written midway between Brave New World and Nineteen Eighty-Four, as the terrible events of the Second World War were unfolding, Kallocain depicts a totalitarian 'World State' which seeks to crush the individual entirely. In this desolate, paranoid landscape of 'police eyes' and 'police ears', the obedient citizen and middle-ranking scientist Leo Kall discovers a drug that will force anyone who takes it to tell the truth. But can private thought really be obliterated?’

Kallocain is a dystopian novel written by the Swedish author Karin Boye during the interwar period. The novel is set in a dystopian future where there is a form of a large world government translated in English as ‘World State’; in some ways modelled around the Soviet Union. The author wrote this in the 1930s, when the ideological battle was raging between market-driven individualist model of US and the Soviet collective model and the author presents this world.

The lead character is Leo Kall, a scientist who works for the army of the world state and is a fervent patriot and is convinced that all traitors are to be ‘removed’ from the state. He invents a serum, when injected, forces the person to speak the truth and reveal all their ideas against the state. He names the chemical after himself, as ‘Kallocain’. However, he is also a very insecure character, who is convinced that his wife is in love with his boss Rissen and somehow wants the truth out of her which leads to a lot of problems which forms the crux of the novel.

For me, this novel did not work; and felt that the world that the author had created was too disconnected from reality. I would have been more interested to know how this ‘world state’ operated, but most of the story took place in an interrogation room where Leo administered Kallocain to the wives of soldiers to get information on them. There was no indication on what the event was that led to this consolidation – or any talk on general things that happen every day, such as what the weather was, what was the landscape around, what was it that the people were doing for entertainment (even if it meant watching state propaganda shows), etc.

I felt the story had an interesting idea, especially given the historic context at that time, with certain countries going towards a planned economy and collective society; that the author imagined a dystopian version of that. However, at some point, she was confused between building her world and exploring the insecurities of Leo, and in the end, there was neither.  It is not a long read, however, was a very difficult read for me.

Science-fiction or dystopian novels are not my preferred genre but I felt I gave it a fair chance and for a reader like me, it could have worked more if she had chosen on a particular theme and having the other as a sub-plot that try to equally focus on both. On that note, I award the novel a rating of three on ten.

Rating – 3/10

Have a nice day,
Andy

The Vegetarian by Han Kang – Book Review

 

Afin de lire monavis de lecture en français, cliquez ici

Note: I read the French translation of the novel

Publisher’s write-up:

‘A beautiful, unsettling novel about rebellion and taboo, violence and eroticism, and the twisting metamorphosis of a soul Before the nightmares began, Yeong-hye and her husband lived an ordinary, controlled life. But the dreams—invasive images of blood and brutality—torture her, driving Yeong-hye to purge her mind and renounce eating meat altogether. It’s a small act of independence, but it interrupts her marriage and sets into motion an increasingly grotesque chain of events at home. As her husband, her brother-in-law and sister each fight to reassert their control, Yeong-hye obsessively defends the choice that’s become sacred to her. Soon their attempts turn desperate, subjecting first her mind, and then her body, to ever more intrusive and perverse violations, sending Yeong-hye spiraling into a dangerous, bizarre estrangement, not only from those closest to her, but also from herself.  Celebrated by critics around the world, The Vegetarian is a darkly allegorical, Kafka-esque tale of power, obsession, and one woman’s struggle to break free from the violence both without and within her.’

The Vegetarian is a novel written by the South Korean author Han Kang, who won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 2024. In this novel, we meet Yeong-hye, who lives with her husband and leads an ordinary life, until she decides to become a vegan because of a dream she had. Her husband married her precisely because he is an ‘average man’ and also, according to him, Yeong-hye is also a traditional woman with whom he can have an ‘average’ life and this decision turned out to be a change too significant for him to tolerate. It was not just her husband who did not like her decision - even her parents did not support it and in a particular moment, her father tried to force her to eat meat. She stops eating altogether and leading to a further decline of her health. The novel follows her life - and from this portrait of Yeong-hye, the author shows us the patriarchy in South Korean society and the position of women in society.

I liked the beginning of the novel, which gave me a lot to look forward to - in a marriage where every day is the same, Yeong-hye suddenly decides to stop eating meat. We also see how her husband becomes more aggressive towards her, as if he had the right to interfere in her personal choices. I liked the bond between Yeong-hye and her sister, her only source of support in this choice of hers. The choice to change the narration in each chapter is an interesting one too, the first chapter from Yeong-hye's husband's point of view and the following chapters following a third person narration.

I had to think long and hard about writing something positive about the novel in the review and it's done now, with the preceding paragraph. Otherwise, I did not like the novel at all. Firstly, I found the title of the novel misleading, her family problems were not because she went vegan, but because she stopped eating, at all. As a vegan myself, I get a lot of weird questions in my day-to-day life from people around me - whether I'm feeling hungry, whether I'm getting enough nutrients, whether I'm taking any vaccinations, etc. A majority of the time, these are questions asked out of curiosity (though, sometimes also in bad faith) - but as with any movement or ideology, there is an extreme and here, Yeong-hye was an example of that extreme. I find that the misconception around vegans is because of such characters in pop culture (like films, TV shows, novels, etc.) that show this type of personality that all vegans are judged by.

I was able to sympathise with Yeong-hye and her predicament, but personally I could not identify with the act of deciding to stop eating completely because of a dream. The ending of the novel did not give hope either - I understand that in real life, not every situation has a definitive ending, but here - I did not see any ups and downs in the plot either. Apart from her sister Inghye, there was not much of  character development, with subtlety or complexity - they've all got villains - either Yeong-hye's husband or the rest of her family.

To conclude, it often happens to me that with author who win the Nobel Prize, either I love their works, like Gabriel Garcia Marquez or Albert Camus; or I do not like them at all, like last year's winner Jon Fosse and unfortunately, Han Kang will also fall into the same latter category. It was impossible for me to identify with the characters, and even if I had not been a vegan, I would not have liked the novel, but given that I am, this personal aspect added yet another reason why I did not enjoy it. Considering all the points I have made in this review, I give the novel a score of three out of ten.

Rating – 3/10

Have a nice day,
Andy

The Details by Ia Genberg – Book Review

Afin de lire mon avis de lecture en français, cliquez ici 

Publisher’s write-up:

‘A famous broadcaster writes a forgotten love letter; a friend abruptly disappears; a lover leaves something unexpected behind; a traumatised woman is consumed by her own anxiety.

In the throes of a fever, a woman casts her mind back to the past. In precise, vivid language, the stories of four important people who have shaped her life are revealed – a thousand little memories from across a lifetime, laid bare in vivid detail as her body temperature races.

International bestseller The Details is a luminous portrayal of all the small moments that make up a life; the little details that make us human.’

The Details is a novella written in the form of a memoir of the narrator, by writer Ia Genberg. The novel is originally written in Swedish and I relied on the English translation of Kira Josefsson. The novel is split into four chapters, each of which are named after the people in their life who impacted them; namely Johanna, a writer whom the narrator recalls after fishing out a love letter written in the past; followed by Niki – a woman estranged from her parents, with whom the narrator is sharing an apartment; Alejandro, a person from South America with whom the narrator is in a serious relationship and finally, Birgitte, a woman who has her own anxieties and tried her best to create her own identity – be it political or personal.

This could be described as the typical novel where ‘nothing happens’ but is probably relatable to every person reading it. We have all had people in our lives who have been important to us in different ways and sometimes, we have gone out of our way to stay in touch and despite our best efforts, we are no longer in contact, which is something that happens to the narrator. The reason why I am not naming the narrator is because the person was never named by the writer and the whole narration is from their perspective (for a long time, I was not sure of their biological sex / gender identity till the latter half of the book and that is why I am keeping it secret in the review as well).

I also liked the details that were present – such as the streets of Stockholm, though I have not visited that city many times, I could still visualise it very well, the cafés and the people who were walking by. My favourite parts of the novel were the stories of Niki and Birgitte, which showed the vulnerability of each of the persons involved, and the extent to which they went to escape or face these challenges.

However, the author had lost my in the chapter on Alejandro, and there were times when I lost focus and could not pay attention to detail till about the end of the chapter but after that, it was a strong comeback with the story of Birgitte. I had similar sentiments about the first chapter on Johanna, where it was slow and I was unsure as to where the novel was heading before getting into the chapter on Niki.

To summarise, I would say that this is a novel that captured human emotions very well, and true to the title, showed how these little details are what makes us. I also liked that the author kept it ‘local’ rather than to please a general audience and I felt like I had travelled to Sweden again, while reading this novel. This is an easy read, at the end of which, I was happy having read this novel.

On that note, I would award the novel a rating of seven on ten, it could have been here if there was more depth to the stories of Alejandro and Johanna like that of Niki and Birgitte.

Rating – 7/10

Have a nice day,
Andy

On Our Best Behaviour by Elise Loehnen – Book Review

 

Publisher’s write-up:

‘Why do women equate self-denial with being 'good'?

We congratulate ourselves when we resist the donut in the office breakroom. We celebrate our restraint when we hold back from sending an email in anger. We put others' needs ahead of our own and believe this makes us exemplary. Journalist and podcast host Elise Loehnen explains that these impulses – often lauded as distinctly feminine instincts – are actually ingrained in us by a culture that reaps the benefits, via an extraordinarily effective collection of social

Lust. Gluttony. Greed. Sloth. Wrath. Envy. Pride.

These so-called 'deadly sins' have been used by the patriarchy to control women throughout our history. For instance, a fear of gluttony drives us to ignore our appetites and an aversion to greed prevents us from negotiating a better salary at work.

So, what would happen if we stopped trying to be 'good'?

Provocative and bold, On Our Best Behaviour is a probing analysis of history and contemporary culture that explains how women have internalised the patriarchy, and how they unwittingly reinforce it. By sharing her own story and the spiritual wisdom of other traditions, Elise Loehnen shows how we can break free and discover a path toward a more balanced, fulfilled way to live.’

On Our Best Behaviour: The Price Women Pay to be Good – is a long essay from the writer and podcaster, Elise Loehnen. In this book, she explains the price women have to pay, in trying to be in their best behaviour at all times, in the western society. She bases her premise on how the seven deadly sins that have been codified in Christian societies have effectively kept patriarchal structures in place and subdued women.

I found the premise of the book interesting, wherein she introduces this idea of the seven deadly sins and their impact on the western world, regardless of whether one grows up in a religious family or not. She cites several contemporary examples on differential treatment by media for similar behaviour. It is also true that often, women have been conditioned to be ‘good/gentle’ whereas men are encouraged to be seek power, sometimes even at all costs. She cites research papers, other books and also several anecdotes from her personal life, including the fact that she is raising two sons.

Considering the premise, I wanted to like this book given I agree with the underlying statement that despite the progress made over the years, women still are at a disadvantage. However, in this book, the first thing I felt while reading it was that the author seemed to have the assumption that her reader is a woman (probably cis, not necessarily heterosexual), and I for one, am a cis male. 

While women face structural disadvantages, I felt that the author gave the seven deadly sins far more credit than they merit, and it seemed like she had already drawn a conclusion and then tried to fit her narrative into each of the chapters. Her chapter on greed was particularly shallow – where I felt the author was confused between ‘ambition’ and ‘greed’; to the extent that I know the schooling system and society, greed is not encouraged – but it is true that media might perceive male billionaires as ‘ambitious’ and similar women as ‘greedy’ or arrogant. But using that to glorify ideas such as greed and asking women to embrace greed as well (and the shallow assumption that every man is pushed by the society to be greedy), goes against the idea of the progressive narrative that the author tries to showcase.

I also felt that the author, while being very critical of the seven deadly sins and Christian values at large, she fell into the trap of any non-Abrahamic philosophy being progressive. As I mentioned earlier, I did not grow up in a Christian society or family, but rather in an environment of orthodox Hindus, who are much closer to the Vedanta philosophy that the author praised is being ‘very progressive’ and her only basis of the conclusion was one philosopher whom she met. I consider myself qualified to comment on this given my upbringing and also my later life in Western Europe (considered assimilated); I have had first-hand experience, Vedanta does espouse several patriarchal and regressive ideas and women of Hindu societies today face similar challenges – that is, battling patriarchy and subjugation (I have observed several instances of patriarchy in my own family and extended family). In fact, several people from Hindu societies embrace Abrahamic faiths because they are more ‘progressive’ but in both instances, the author embracing Vedanta and some people in Hindu societies converting to other religions are products of the same issue – their preachers cherry pick and provide the most liberal interpretation possible (though such interpretations are not agreed by all or sometimes even a majority of the practitioners of these religions).

I did not know much about the author but given how much she spoke about herself, what I could understand was that she herself is someone from a very privileged background, being a wealthy person with very good connections (she cites someone famous and then recalls their experience of meeting them and interacting with them every time). The irony is that she herself is involved in a lifestyle magazine Goop, doing precisely what several other magazines do such as setting unrealistic standards for their readers – and the magazine is also known to promote a lot of pseudoscience and alternate medicine – which was a theme that was recurrent in this book as well.

To conclude, this was a book that I wanted to like, she had an interesting premise that I agreed with, but her arguments were shallow, often made with a lack of understanding. My experience reading this book was very tiring and, on that note, I rate this book a four on ten.

Rating – 4/10

Have a nice day
Andy

 

The Northern Lights by Philip Pullman – Book Review

 

Publisher’s write-up:

‘When Lyra's friend Roger disappears, she and her dæmon, Pantalaimon, determine to find him.

The ensuing quest leads them to the bleak splendour of the North, where armoured bears rule the ice and witch-queens fly through the frozen skies - and where a team of scientists is conducting experiments too horrible to be spoken about.

Lyra overcomes these strange terrors, only to find something yet more perilous waiting for her - something with consequences which may even reach beyond the Northern Lights...’

The Northern Lights is the first instalment of the His Dark Materials trilogy written by Philip Pullman. The story follows the adventures of a teenage girl named Lyra Belacqua, an orphan living in Jordan College in Oxford. Though orphaned, she is from an influential family and her uncle is the well-known politician and researcher, Lord Asriel. This world created by the author has certain other aspects too – while most locations that are talked about are in the real world, there are some elements of fantasy, such as humans having their souls visible, in the form of a daemon, taking the form of an animal, representing their personality (thus, daemons of children could frequently change their form, but not of adults).

The story starts with Lyra listening to a conversation that she was not to, while hiding in the Retiring Room of the college and sabotaging an attempt by the Master of the college to poison Lord Asriel, and listening all about this new phenomenon in the North, about Dust – mysterious particles which Asriel wishes to research further. On the other side, there are also a lot of children missing, never to be found again. The most affected were the Gyptians, who were a nomadic group mostly travelling on boats and they are desperate to get the children back from the group who are colloquially known as the Gobblers. In the meantime, Lyra is given an alethiometer by the master of Jordan College before she leaves on her long journey – a device that could tell the truth if one has the capacity to read the symbols in them.

I liked the world built by the author – the idea of the soul of a human being manifesting as an animal visible to everyone was interesting and that was integral to the life of every human in this world. Despite the fantasy elements of the book which comprised armoured fighter bears, witches and mysterious phenomena; it was also happening in the real world in places like Oxford or Svalbard – and with peoples whom we are familiar in real life, such as the Tatars or the Germans. The character of Lyra was also someone whom I really enjoyed when I first read this book as a teenager, considering I was off a similar age – it was good to see someone that bold, going any lengths to help people who are close to her or challenge the adults when she felt something was not right, qualities many wished that they had (I certainly did). I also liked the portrayal of the Gyptian people and their culture, and how, though they were largely seen as ‘outcasts’ and seen negatively – they were people with principles who would not bend them despite offers of money or fame.

The author maintained a mysterious element throughout the novel – why was the alethiometer given to Lyra – and why did she have to take up the journey to go Svalbard to give it to her uncle Asriel? Moreover, what was Dust, the particle that everyone is researching on and willing to perform some of the most gruesome acts to advance further on researching these particles? Why are the children missing and why are they being taken away?

Amidst all these questions, the author also introduced aspects to the world, such as the relationship that the armoured bears had with other bears and humans, the factionalism within the witches, the different alliances people had (for instance, Gyptians felt grateful to Asriel as he was the only politician who had fought for their rights).

When I read it a second time now, in my thirties, I still enjoyed this novel, partly to do with nostalgia and also partly to with the fact that I could observe a lot more nuances this time around. Some of it bothered me, such as the stereotyping of the Tatars – while one could say that this was common perception during the period of this novel, barring once, these views were hardly challenged by any of the characters. Moreover, while the Gyptians were an interesting people, I would have liked to know more on them – I am sure that the author is inspired by the Romani people while conceptualising them, however, I was unsure why they had Dutch names or were even speaking Fens-Dutch as their first language and this history could have added more depth to the novel and the world that the author had built.

Overall, this is a great fantasy novel, I enjoyed it as a teenager, and I am sure that it could still be read by young adults to this day – particularly for the world built by the author, the different human relationships and unlike many young adult fantasy novels – there was not a clear split between good and evil, several characters were grey, such as Lord Asriel, the Master of Jordan College or the armoured bear Iorek Byrnison; often doing things that are morally questionable. Lyra’s own character was equally enjoyable and the end of the book certainly made me want more of it and I shall elaborate further on the review of the sequel – The Subtle Knife. On that note, I would award The Northern Lights a rating of eight on ten.

Rating – 8/10

Have a nice day,
Andy