I really enjoyed this book, it was educational through incorporating cultural histories and perspectives as well as existentially spiritual, providing answers and new questions for the reader to explore in their own life. I appreciate the way Jenny Odell stitches interdisciplinary connections and curiosities as an artist for the reader to take in and reflect on. I loved the first person commentary on moving through space in the Bay Area and how that wove into themes through the chapters. Thank you for writing this book. It made me feel many complex emotions and see the way I move through the world differently. Please keep writing these types of explorations!

Fine book, most concepts already explored in previous books I've read but good reminders of other ways of relating to time.

 Totally subjective, not for me. Not sure I bought into the central premise sufficiently. 

"What has been kept alive in the time snatched from work and sheltered from ongoing destruction -- what moments of recognition, what ways of relating, what other imagined worlds, what other selves?
What other kinds of time?"

This was alright. Some chapters better than others. It's really just a book that looks at how we came up with our currently accepted practice of timekeeping, and alternative ways of looking at it. It did have an impact on me overall, I would say. So rounded up to 4 stars.
informative inspiring reflective slow-paced
informative reflective

Jenny Odell knocks it out of the park again. A brilliant artist-philosopher.

Time:
leisure
chronos/kairos
capitalism
injustice, racial and otherwise
climate change
disability and feminist studies
incarceration

"Compared to chronos, kairos sounds like the domain of those wayfarers who knew that time is inseparable from space and that every place-moment demands close attention, let you miss your opportunity. It's not that you can't plan, but that the time in the plan doesn't appear flat, dead, inert. Instead, in the "meantime," you wait with your ear to the ground for patterns of vibration that will never repeat themselves. Faced with flatness, you look for an opening. When it comes, you take it, and you don't look back." (272)

"The current meaning of apocalypse is modern; in Middle English it simply meant "vision," "insight," or even "hallucination." (187)

"Just as a thought experiment, imagine that you were not born at the end of time, but actually at the exact right time" (187).

"Every piece of writing is a time capsule. It assembles fragments of its own world and sends them onward to a reader who exists in a different one, not just in space but also in time. Even writing privately in a journal presupposes a future self who will be reading it - and a future at all. In the case of this book, I cannot know what has happened between the time I am writing this and the time in which you are encountering it. But I can tell you that I am living in a moment of doubt. Perhaps you are, too." (278)
challenging informative reflective medium-paced

“How to Do Nothing is a tough act to follow in terms of its impact on my thinking and experiencing of the world around me. Saving Time won't be quite as profound, I think, but that's also because 1) it's more an expansion than a revelation, and 2) I'm reading it at a time that doesn't feel as unsettled and open to new ways of being. Neither is a criticism of the book itself, which asks necessary questions about how we measure and value time, and whose interests those measurements and values serve.

Two concepts that I should hold onto: the question of the fungibility of time, and the notion of time as something that grows when shared (the metaphor of sharing lettuce that you grew in your garden so the plant can produce more, that giving is necessary to flourishing).”