Review:
I Didn't Do the Thing Today, by Madeleine Dore
| Publisher: |
Avery |
| Copyright: |
2022 |
| ISBN: |
0-593-41914-6 |
| Format: |
Kindle |
| Pages: |
291 |
At least from my narrow view of it, the world of productivity self-help
literature is a fascinating place right now. The pandemic overturned
normal work patterns and exacerbated schedule inequality, creating vastly
different experiences for the people whose work continued to be in-person
and the people whose work could become mostly or entirely remote.
Self-help literature, which is primarily aimed at the more affluent
white-collar class, primarily tracked the latter disruption: newly-remote
work, endless Zoom meetings, the impossibility of child care, the
breakdown of boundaries between work and home, and the dawning realization
that much of the mechanics of day-to-day office work are neither
productive nor defensible.
My primary exposure these days to the more traditional self-help
productivity literature is via
Cal Newport.
The stereotype of the productivity self-help book is a collection of life
hacks and list-making techniques that will help you become a more
efficient capitalist cog, but Newport has been moving away from that dead
end for as long as I've been reading him, and his
recent work focuses more on structural issues
with the organization of knowledge work. He also shares with the newer
productivity writers a willingness to tell people to use the free time
they recover via improved efficiency on some life goal other than improved
job productivity. But he's still prickly and defensive about the
importance of personal productivity and accomplishing things. He gives
lip service on his podcast to the value of the critique of productivity,
but then usually reverts to characterizing anti-productivity arguments as
saying that productivity is a capitalist invention to control workers.
(Someone has doubtless said this on Twitter, but I've never seen a serious
critique of productivity make this simplistic of an argument.)
On the anti-productivity side, as it's commonly called, I've seen a lot of
new writing in the past couple of years that tries to break the connection
between productivity and human worth so endemic to US society. This is
not a new analysis; disabled writers have been making this point for
decades, it's present in both Keynes and in Galbraith's
The Affluent Society, and Kathi Weeks's
The Problem with Work traces some of its
history in Marxist thought. But what does feel new to me is its
widespread mainstream appearance in newspaper articles, viral blog posts,
and books such as Jenny Odell's
How to Do Nothing and Devon Price's
Laziness Does Not Exist. The pushback
against defining life around productivity is having a moment.
Entering this discussion is Madeleine Dore's
I Didn't Do the Thing
Today. Dore is the author of the
Extraordinary Routines blog and
host of the
Routines and
Ruts podcast. Extraordinary Routines began as a survey of how various
people organize their daily lives.
I Didn't Do the Thing Today is,
according to the preface, a summary of the thoughts Dore has had about her
own life and routines as a result of those interviews.
As you might guess from the subtitle (
Letting Go of Productivity
Guilt), Dore's book is superficially on the anti-productivity side. Its
chapters are organized around gentle critiques of productivity concepts,
with titles like "The Hopeless Search for the Ideal Routine," "The Myth of
Balance," or "The Harsh Rules of Discipline." But I think
anti-productivity is a poor name for this critique; its writers are not
opposed to being productive, only to its position as an all-consuming
focus and guilt-generating measure of personal worth.
Dore structures most chapters by naming an aspect, goal, or concern of a
life defined by productivity, such as wasted time, ambition, busyness,
distraction, comparison, or indecision. Each chapter sketches the impact
of that idea and then attempts to gently dismantle the grip that it may
have on the reader's life. All of these discussions are nuanced; it's
rare for Dore to say that one of these aspects has no value, and she
anticipates numerous objections. But her overarching goal is to help the
reader be more comfortable with imperfection, more willing to live in the
moment, and less frustrated with the limitations of life and the human
brain. If striving for productivity is like lifting weights, Dore's
diagnosis is that we've tried too hard for too long, and have overworked
that muscle until it is cramping. This book is a gentle massage to induce
the muscle to relax and let go.
Whether this will work is, as with all self-help books, individual. I
found it was best read in small quantities, perhaps a chapter per day,
since it otherwise began feeling too much the same. I'm also not the
ideal audience; Dore is a creative freelancer and primarily interviewed
other creative people, which I think has a different sort of productivity
rhythm than the work that I do. She's also not a planner to the degree
that I am; more on that below. And yet, I found this book worked on me
anyway. I can't say that I was captivated all the way through, but I
found myself mentally relaxing while I was reading it, and I may re-read
some chapters from time to time.
How does this relate to the genre of productivity self-help? With less
conflict than I think productivity writers believe, although there seems
to be one foundational difference of perspective.
Dore is not opposed to accomplishing things, or even to systems that help
people accomplish things. She is more attuned than the typical
productivity writer to the guilt and frustration that can accumulate when
one has a day in which one does not do the thing, but her goal is not to
talk you out of attempting things. It is, instead, to convince you to
hold those attempts and goals more lightly, to allow them to move and
shift and change, and to not treat a failure to do the thing today as a
reason for guilt. This is wholly compatible with standard productivity
advice. It's adding nuance at one level of abstraction higher: how
tightly to cling to productivity goals, and what to do when they don't
work out. Cramping muscles are not strong muscles capable of lifting
heavy things. If one can massage out the cramp, one's productivity by
even the strict economic definition may improve.
Where I do see a conflict is that most productivity writers are planners,
and Dore is not. This is, I think, a significant blind spot in
productivity self-help writing. Cal Newport, for example, advocates
time-block planning, where every hour of the working day has a job.
David Allen advocates a complex set of
comprehensive lists and well-defined next actions.
Mark Forster builds a flurry of small systems
for working through lists. The standard in productivity writing is to to
add structure to your day and cultivate the self-discipline required to
stick to that structure.
For many people, including me, this largely works. I'm mostly a planner,
and when my life gets chaotic, adding more structure and focusing on that
structure helps me. But the productivity writers I've read are quite
insistent that their style of structure will work for everyone, and on
that point I am dubious. Newport, for example, advocates time-block
planning for everyone without exception, insisting that it is the best way
to structure a day. Dore, in contrast, describes spending years trying to
perfect a routine before realizing that elastic possibilities work better
for her than routines. For those who are more like Dore than Newport,
I Didn't Do the Thing Today is more likely to be helpful than
Newport's instructions. This doesn't make Newport's ideas wrong; it
simply makes them not universal, something that the productivity self-help
genre seems to have trouble acknowledging.
Even for readers like myself who prefer structure,
I Didn't Do the
Thing Today is a valuable corrective to the emphasis on every-better
systems. For those who never got along with too much structure, I think
it may strike a chord. The standard self-help caveat still applies: Dore
has the most to say to people who are in a similar social class and line
of work as her. I'm not sure this book will be of much help to someone
who has to juggle two jobs with shift work and child care, where the
problem is more sharp external constraints than internalized productivity
guilt. But for its target audience, I think it's a valuable, calming
message. Dore doesn't have a recipe to sort out your life, but may help
you feel better about the merits of life unsorted.
Rating: 7 out of 10
Starting just after Christmas, I have been working on CI for all
the kernel team's packages on Salsa. The salsa-ci-team has done
great work on producing a common pipeline that is usable for most
packages with minimal configuration. However, for some packages
a lot more work was required.
Linux
I started with the most important
package, linux
itself. This now has about 1.1 GiB of source spread over 76,000
source files. That turns out to be a
problem
for the pipeline which currently puts unpacked source in
artifacts - it is far beyond the limits of what Salsa allows. I
worked around this by using a modified version of the extract-source
and build jobs that use packed source package as the artifacts. The
output of the build job is compatible with the common test jobs.
The linux package also takes a lot of resources to build; around 80
minutes on the fastest PC I have at home (if ccache is not primed).
Salsa's shared CI runners seem to be about 10 times slower than
that, so it is completely unfeasible to even one full build in CI.
Instead I defined a new build profile that includes only the
smallest kernel configuration, without debug info, and the
user-space packages. This still takes over an hour with the Salsa
CI runners, but I don't think we can improve this much without
losing a lot of code coverage.
Our Git repository for linux also does not contain the upstream
source, so the extract-source job has to fetch that. The common
extract-source job uses 
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