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ilse 's review for:
How to Live on 24 Hours a Day
by Arnold Bennett
Get your mind in hand . And see how the process cures half the evils of life – especially worry, that miserable, avoidable, shameful disease – worry!
It occurred to me that How to Live on Twenty-Four Hours a Day could be the first self-help book ever I managed to finish without yawning or ending up with an insipid taste in my mouth –which assumingly tells as much about having made poor book choices as about the nature of this book which is cleverly short, witty and elegantly written and rather timeless in the lessons one could draw from it. No, this isn’t time management for dummies, it is not about bringing miraculously more time in your life titles like [b:How to Have a 48-Hour Day: Get Twice as Much Done as You Do Now!|207575|How to Have a 48-Hour Day Get Twice as Much Done as You Do Now!|Don Aslett|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1347252144s/207575.jpg|200906] seem to suggest, but about bringing more life into your time, to live more fully instead of passing one’s time merely existing. Bennett’s basic assumption is that for most of us office workers, work doesn’t make us feel really living to the fullest extent nor sends us home genuinely tired as a rule – which is confirmed by modern HR research and occupational psychology. Most people don’t deplete the bulk of their capacities and mental faculties for work but only use a limited percentage of it. If working in the HR department one better bears in mind that most people have a private life that is far more demanding and complex than their jobs and hopefully for them is also more interesting and rewarding. Moreover, it is no secret the average office worker spends only a few hours of the time he or she is present actually working productively (about three)– the rest of the eight hours going into chatting with colleagues, eating, surfing on the web to news (and job) sites, dreaming away during meetings and sipping (too much) coffee. Bennett doesn’t cast stones, his point is one cannot claim being tired at the end of such a working day and so isn’t excused for frittering away one’s time with trifles – as one simply isn’t tired.
Fully living Bennett comprehends as boosting one’s intellectual life, cultivating of the mind for as a start ninety nocturnal minutes – and no, before you smile complacently thinking you are doing pretty well because of reading a lot – this doesn’t necessarily concur with reading. Reading novels (and odd reading like newspapers) is disqualified, as bad novels shouldn’t be read and good novels ‘rush you forward like a skiff down a stream’ and do not imply the feeling of strain and difficulty necessary in the cultivation of the mind. Fortunately reading poetry seems to find favour with him, as
Imaginative poetry produces a far greater mental strain than novels. It produces probably the severest strain of any form of literature. It is the highest form of literature. It yields the highest form of pleasure, and teaches the highest form of wisdom. In a word, there is nothing to compare with it. I say this with sad consciousness of the fact that the majority of people do not read poetry.
Studying art, music, history; nature, the rise of railways, the study of cause and effect in daily life, everything that sparks one’s natural interests, arouses one’s curiosity and helps to keep an open mind will do in order to live fully – delight lies in aiming for specialism. Serious reading cannot be equalled to simply wolfing down as many books as possible, one has to move slowly, as it should take as much time to read as to reflect about it. Reviewing books here maybe would count too, we can see the picture.
Some of his insights on self-discipline strike as intuitive truths (rise early, go to bed in time, start change quietly, the perception that our brain doesn’t tire by using it but rather needs change than rest (except in sleep)) – and come along as remarkably close to the present day recommendations about owning your own life, self-improvement, personal growth we at times seem to get bombarded with, be it Bennett formulates them in a more imaginative, entertaining and philosophical way, rendering the message both still relevant as well as more agreeable to digest.
I thought the idea of the gift each day is to us, to all of us, indiscriminately, whether we are well off or not, beautiful. We all get twenty-four hours a day, every day again, and wasting a day or an hour will not be punished, as it will be followed by another one. One cannot waste the next hour, every next hour is a new chance, we can turn over a new leaf every hour if we wish to. And yet. Bennett wrote this for British white-collar workers a hundred years ago, so unsurprisingly he only addresses the lords of creation, which evidently don’t have to bother about domestic duties, plop in their armchair with the paper when getting home, waiting for dinner. Only men seem to have the idea that one should ‘do something in addition to the things we are loyally and morally obliged to do’ in life. Women stay out of the picture, apparently not needing to do something more fulfilling with their time than watch over the precious time of their men by serving them and when done disappearing into the wallpaper together with the man’s offspring so he can peacefully devote himself to his own mind (spending more time on the family/other people in those days apparently not regarded as an option on the path to make the most out of life). In this respect I couldn’t but sigh about change going slow, as I was reminded of some recent population surveys in the UK, the Netherlands and Belgium which showed that men in a sense still are the leisure class – enjoying on average about six hours a week more of leisure time than women – and on this point the gender gap is even growing in comparison to fifteen years ago. So if one would consider to take some of the stratagems of Bennett to heart, be forewarned that reading this might cause serious domestic troubles if one’s beloved would read it as well and might wish to benefit from the same degree of mental space and leisure to spend on the cultivation of the mind as one would like oneself – unless neither of you minds a little chaos (or having petty squabbles, which is also time-consuming).
Whenever I catch myself again promising I will do certain things when I finally will have a little more time, I will think of Arnold Bennett’s insights on time, as this might be one of the most inconvenient truths we have to face, ‘the glaring, dazzling truth that we never will have any more time. We have, and have always had, all the time there is.’ Besides, that omelette looks really nice, Mr. Bennett.
It occurred to me that How to Live on Twenty-Four Hours a Day could be the first self-help book ever I managed to finish without yawning or ending up with an insipid taste in my mouth –which assumingly tells as much about having made poor book choices as about the nature of this book which is cleverly short, witty and elegantly written and rather timeless in the lessons one could draw from it. No, this isn’t time management for dummies, it is not about bringing miraculously more time in your life titles like [b:How to Have a 48-Hour Day: Get Twice as Much Done as You Do Now!|207575|How to Have a 48-Hour Day Get Twice as Much Done as You Do Now!|Don Aslett|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1347252144s/207575.jpg|200906] seem to suggest, but about bringing more life into your time, to live more fully instead of passing one’s time merely existing. Bennett’s basic assumption is that for most of us office workers, work doesn’t make us feel really living to the fullest extent nor sends us home genuinely tired as a rule – which is confirmed by modern HR research and occupational psychology. Most people don’t deplete the bulk of their capacities and mental faculties for work but only use a limited percentage of it. If working in the HR department one better bears in mind that most people have a private life that is far more demanding and complex than their jobs and hopefully for them is also more interesting and rewarding. Moreover, it is no secret the average office worker spends only a few hours of the time he or she is present actually working productively (about three)– the rest of the eight hours going into chatting with colleagues, eating, surfing on the web to news (and job) sites, dreaming away during meetings and sipping (too much) coffee. Bennett doesn’t cast stones, his point is one cannot claim being tired at the end of such a working day and so isn’t excused for frittering away one’s time with trifles – as one simply isn’t tired.
Fully living Bennett comprehends as boosting one’s intellectual life, cultivating of the mind for as a start ninety nocturnal minutes – and no, before you smile complacently thinking you are doing pretty well because of reading a lot – this doesn’t necessarily concur with reading. Reading novels (and odd reading like newspapers) is disqualified, as bad novels shouldn’t be read and good novels ‘rush you forward like a skiff down a stream’ and do not imply the feeling of strain and difficulty necessary in the cultivation of the mind. Fortunately reading poetry seems to find favour with him, as
Imaginative poetry produces a far greater mental strain than novels. It produces probably the severest strain of any form of literature. It is the highest form of literature. It yields the highest form of pleasure, and teaches the highest form of wisdom. In a word, there is nothing to compare with it. I say this with sad consciousness of the fact that the majority of people do not read poetry.
Studying art, music, history; nature, the rise of railways, the study of cause and effect in daily life, everything that sparks one’s natural interests, arouses one’s curiosity and helps to keep an open mind will do in order to live fully – delight lies in aiming for specialism. Serious reading cannot be equalled to simply wolfing down as many books as possible, one has to move slowly, as it should take as much time to read as to reflect about it. Reviewing books here maybe would count too, we can see the picture.
Some of his insights on self-discipline strike as intuitive truths (rise early, go to bed in time, start change quietly, the perception that our brain doesn’t tire by using it but rather needs change than rest (except in sleep)) – and come along as remarkably close to the present day recommendations about owning your own life, self-improvement, personal growth we at times seem to get bombarded with, be it Bennett formulates them in a more imaginative, entertaining and philosophical way, rendering the message both still relevant as well as more agreeable to digest.
I thought the idea of the gift each day is to us, to all of us, indiscriminately, whether we are well off or not, beautiful. We all get twenty-four hours a day, every day again, and wasting a day or an hour will not be punished, as it will be followed by another one. One cannot waste the next hour, every next hour is a new chance, we can turn over a new leaf every hour if we wish to. And yet. Bennett wrote this for British white-collar workers a hundred years ago, so unsurprisingly he only addresses the lords of creation, which evidently don’t have to bother about domestic duties, plop in their armchair with the paper when getting home, waiting for dinner. Only men seem to have the idea that one should ‘do something in addition to the things we are loyally and morally obliged to do’ in life. Women stay out of the picture, apparently not needing to do something more fulfilling with their time than watch over the precious time of their men by serving them and when done disappearing into the wallpaper together with the man’s offspring so he can peacefully devote himself to his own mind (spending more time on the family/other people in those days apparently not regarded as an option on the path to make the most out of life). In this respect I couldn’t but sigh about change going slow, as I was reminded of some recent population surveys in the UK, the Netherlands and Belgium which showed that men in a sense still are the leisure class – enjoying on average about six hours a week more of leisure time than women – and on this point the gender gap is even growing in comparison to fifteen years ago. So if one would consider to take some of the stratagems of Bennett to heart, be forewarned that reading this might cause serious domestic troubles if one’s beloved would read it as well and might wish to benefit from the same degree of mental space and leisure to spend on the cultivation of the mind as one would like oneself – unless neither of you minds a little chaos (or having petty squabbles, which is also time-consuming).
Whenever I catch myself again promising I will do certain things when I finally will have a little more time, I will think of Arnold Bennett’s insights on time, as this might be one of the most inconvenient truths we have to face, ‘the glaring, dazzling truth that we never will have any more time. We have, and have always had, all the time there is.’ Besides, that omelette looks really nice, Mr. Bennett.