Out of My Skull is a short introduction to some of the ways that psychology and neuroscience have approached the question of boredom. The argument that James Danckert and John D. Eastwood construct is a clean and persuasive one – boredom is not some kind of “enemy” that needs to be shooed away. Instead, boredom is a signal and a call to action. It contains valuable information about our present state of affairs, cognitively speaking, and it tells us that whatever we’re doing at this moment isn’t enough to fully engage and satisfy our desired mental capacities. Just as a grumbling stomach signals hunger, a bored mind signals the desire for rewarding mental engagement and stimulation.
However, according to Danckert and Eastwood, the desire that boredom signals to us is contentless and objectless. It tells us that we desire something, but it doesn’t tell us what we desire, or how to satisfy that desire. It doesn’t necessarily point us in one direction or another, either. Its primary function, then, is to call attention to the present moment and signal that there is a problem. To paraphrase Leo Tolstoy, boredom is desire desiring desire itself. In other words, boredom can suggest that something is wrong and that change is needed, but it can’t instruct us on what that something is, or what change signifies in that context. The brain gives you a nudge, but after that, you’re on your own. Likewise, your stomach gives you a nudge toward hunger, but your higher executive functioning needs to ascertain where, why and how that desire can be satiated.
But if boredom is more attentive than it is prescriptive, how can we know what to do? Boredom signals that a choice needs to be made, but which path should we take? Here, Danckert and Eastwood draw influence from some of the great existentialist thinkers, such as Soren Kierkegaard, Friedrich Nietzsche, Martin Heidegger, and – of course – Viktor Frankl. Through these philosophers, they build an understanding of human agency to conceptualize how one could potentially forge meaning through the boredom impulse. As a result, I would be willing to situate Danckert and Eastwood's work within the framework of logotherapy, if I had to slap a name on it. There is certainly a strong sense of connection between Out of My Skull and Man’s Search for Meaning. I enjoyed this blend of neuroscience and psychology with continental philosophy, as it highlights where the edges of the disciplines can meet and even support one another.
Now for the weaker points. Danckert and Eastwood cover a lot of ground, but their book is more of a general survey of the scope of the topic, as opposed to an in-depth look at the field of psychological research on boredom. It’s a decent point of departure for further reading, but you shouldn't expect to be blown away. It’s casual and accessible, but like the impulse it addresses, it could leave you desiring something more.
I also took issue with the stark divisions they built between the concepts of “interest”, “curiosity”, and “boredom”. According to Danckert and Eastwood, those three concepts are mutually exclusive: “[a]lthough not strict opposites, they never coexist. If we are feeling interest, we can’t also feel boredom.” In the context of simple situations, in which there is a one-to-one relation between the subject and his/her object, this distinction seems quite reasonable. For instance, it would be pretty hard, if not downright impossible, to maintain a genuine interest in a television show while also feeling bored to death. That makes sense. But the distinction makes far less sense in complex situations, where there are multifaceted elements and long-term goals. Situations that more closely resemble the roughshod character of real-world lived experiences are not so black-and-white.
Academic commitments represent a good challenge to such dichotomous reasoning. For example, in my undergraduate studies, I expressed a keen interest in Canadian history and decided to pursue that area as a major. However, I wasn’t interested in every single minutia of the Canadian past. Admittedly, I found some topics, themes and periods to be incredibly boring. Yet, despite my interest waxing and waning at times, I also understood that it was necessary to learn about those aspects of history. In this sense, I was occasionally bored with certain particulars of my studies, but at the same time, I never lost sight of the fact that momentary boredom is necessary to achieve knowledge about a broader area of interest. And so, when the authors argue that, “[…] as with interest, it is incoherent to say we are both curious about and bored by the same thing”, I think that is demonstrably untrue. In my own anecdotal experience, interest and boredom have overlapped and coexisted, interwoven and entangled together in ways that can’t be easily distinguished conceptually. Though perhaps paradoxical, it certainly isn’t contradictory to simultaneously feel bored and interested in a complex structure - especially one that you value.