*Four Thousand Weeks* by Oliver Burkeman offers an exploration of time management, but whether this book is the best use of your "finite human life" might depend on how much existential angst you can handle. The book dives deeply into the fact that life is short—about 4,000 weeks on average—and nothing ultimately matters in a grand, cosmic sense. If that sort of existential realization sends you spiraling, this might not be the read for you. Burkeman’s whole argument is reliant on the reader agreeing that ultimately you will never have all the time to do the things you want to do, and somehow this should release you from the expectation, but personally I felt this was just really reductive and nihilistic in a way that is not new. It’s giving “we live on a floating rock” which isn’t the most helpful mindset for someone who is trying to derive meaning from their cosmically brief life.

Though there are a few nuggets of wisdom, like the idea that not everything we do needs to have a productive goal. You don’t have to be working toward a marathon to go for a simple run, you can just run for the sake of the activity. The book's lengthy and meandering sentences make it hard to stay grounded in one place, which can be confusing and I was not a fan of his writing. He spends so much time quoting other people that it’s a wonder he gets author credit on this at all. This was just another self-help let down where if you read the first chapter you’ve read the whole thing.