Interesting but flawed, this little book (really more like a long essay) argues that we would all be happier, more creative, and maybe even more productive if we spent more time doing absolutely nothing. Except "argues" is kind of the wrong word -- it's really more of a rant, or maybe a manifesto, than a sustained argument. There are some gaping holes between premise and conclusion, and instead of addressing them, Andrew Smart just continues repeating his conclusion louder and louder.
There are two reasons this didn't make me dislike the book. The less rational one is that I really want to believe in what he's saying. It's easy to get the sense that the vast strides in productivity we've made over the last 200 years or so haven't been matched by strides in personal well-being. The cynical explanation is simply that people can learn to feel vaguely dissatisfied with anything. But it's tempting to wish that the feeling of dissatisfaction many people have with their roles in modern industrial society is not wholly unfounded. Andrew Smart affirms this hope -- and with the (purported) support of brain science, no less! He's angry, he's passionate, he's scientifically literate, and he's telling us something we want to hear. It's hard not to fall under his spell, at least a bit.
The more rational reason I didn't dislike the book was that Smart really does muster some interesting and suggestive evidence, even though he doesn't stitch it together into a single coherent argument. The evidence is of two kinds. First, there is the existence of the "default mode network," a set of brain structures that are more active -- use more oxygen and glucose -- when people are idly thinking or daydreaming rather than performing some task or other. According to Smart, the discovery of this network was a big surprise, because neuroscientists had previously assumed that your brain was essentially "resting" -- using little energy and not doing much work -- when you weren't performing a well-defined physical or mental task. Smart's second main kind of evidence comes from his own work on children with ADHD. His team found that for ADHD kids, some amount of environmental noise was actually more conducive to attention than complete silence. By using the optimal amount of background noise, they were able to boost the kids' performance on a test of working memory to the neurotypical average (!).
Smart connects this second line of evidence to a number of conceptual arguments and examples to build a case that the brain is a complex system -- more like a forest or an ant colony than a machine -- which is designed to expect environmental variability. When building a machine, engineers typically assume that external noise is an unwanted source of error and try to minimize it, yet complex biological systems can use it to their advantage. The rigidly repetitive, variability-minimizing conditions in which machines -- or "ideal employees" -- are expected to function may simply be outside the "design specs" of the human brain. (Smart believes that the high suicide rate among employees of Foxconn, the huge Chinese manufacturing firm famous for making our MacBooks and iPhones, is due to the extreme rigidity of the imposed schedule. The central problem isn't how hard the work is, but how little "noise" the employees are allowed to experience.)
The "complex system" argument is interesting and (somewhat) convincing, but it takes up surprisingly little of the book. The rest is devoted to talking about the default mode system (often very repetitively -- Smart doesn't seem to believe his lessons about variability apply to his own writing) and to various types of ranting and rambling. In these sections Smart is much further from making anything that seems like a lucid argument.
Smart clearly believes that the default mode network is doing very important work when it's active (i.e. when we're not doing anything), and that if we all lazed around more, our default mode networks would have the time to generate all sorts of brilliant ideas that we could later exploit while we're working. Meanwhile, we'd be closer to the "design specs" of our brains, which expect leisure broken by intermittent tough activity (hunting, foraging, running away, etc.) rather than the constant low-level stress of a modern job. The problem is that he doesn't actually provide any evidence that the default mode network really does anything. He says it's more active when we're idle, and he goes through the different brain areas involved in it, which have to do with phenomena like consciousness and self-image. From a layman's perspective, I can't really say this is surprising at all. In my idle moments, I usually find my mind filled with thoughts about my life, my goals, my sense of my place in social life and society, and so forth. Should it be surprising that this mental activity takes energy to perform, and that it involves a specific set of brain areas associated with consciousness and self-image? Not really. What would be surprising would be to learn that this self-centered mental screensaver actually accomplishes something important. But that's exactly what Smart claims without evidence. The most important link in the argumentative chain is missing entirely.
(I suppose you could say that since the default mode network consumes valuable energy, it must have a purpose, or else it would have been weeded out by evolution. But Smart doesn't even go that far -- he doesn't even raise the issue -- and that's pure speculation, not science. Besides, how would we know that the function of the network isn't something that's useless or even counterproductive in modern society?)
Instead of filling in gaps like this, Smart spends a lot of space telling us about how Isaac Newton and Rainer Maria Rilke came to their famous moments of inspiration by letting their default mode networks run and experiencing the right amount of environmental noise. This is, obviously, not going to sway anyone who wasn't already convinced. The rambling, the gaps in logic, and the hyperbole make this book feel like it was written very hastily, possibly while sleep-deprived, and this impression is bolstered by the writing style: in many cases Smart places two sentences next to each other that seem to have no connection whatsoever, and the reader simply has to muddle forward until the unifying link arrives a paragraph or a page later. (Maybe idleness is a good thing in some cases, but there's no upside to lazily written prose.) I get the sense that the ideas in this book are very important ones, ones that deserve to have a good, tightly argued book written about them. It's too bad this book isn't that one.