Alain de Botton continues to put out accessible, enjoyable works of inqiury and practical philosophy. This work-centered volume is divided up into several sections, each exploring what it's like to labor in a different field: satellite launching, cookies, electrical towers, accounting, et cetera. Work defines our lives in so many ways; it's pleasurable and illuminating to view the world through the lenses of other metiers. (What's it like to spend one's life trying to engineer a new cookie? How did rocket launches, once considered spectacles of global wonder, become routine, a mere chore for Japanese TV executives?) Botton's light and elegant prose is a delight, much like his ability to be amusing while never mocking his subjects. Like most of his work, this book is a fine tool for gaining some perspective on the life one leads.

In The Pleasures and Sorrows of Work, Alain de Botton presents a series of essays on working life, each one focused on a different industry or career. In his own words, de Botton is attempting "a hymn to the intelligence, peculiarity, beauty and horror of the modern workplace and, not least, its extraordinary claim to be able to provide us, alongside love, with the principal source of life's meaning." De Botton’s essays, written in his satisfyingly dense and artful prose, are accompanied by haunting black-and-white photographs illustrating either the bleakness or the beauty, and sometimes both, of our modern work landscapes.

De Botton’s aim in examining our working lives is two-fold. In addition to exploring our motivations to work and the meaning we hope to draw from our jobs, de Botton seeks to pierce the superficiality of our material world. Instead of viewing a package of cookies on the grocery store shelf as a simple afternoon snack, de Botton exhorts us to get beyond the surface to consider the hundreds, if not thousands, of people working every day to ensure those cookies are available to us. In this way, The Pleasures and Sorrows of Work is striving “to mitigate the deadening, uniquely modern sense of dislocation between the things we so heedlessly consume in the run of our daily lives and their unknown origins and creators."

Occasionally, de Botton's focus on certain unsavory details (like the smell of "freshly boiled cabbage or swede" pervading the home office of a career counselor) comes close to condescension. More often, de Botton treats his subjects with empathy and sensitivity. This beautifully designed and produced book is a pleasure to read.

This review also appears on my literary blog Literary License. ( )

With every sentence that Alain de Botton writes, he only reaffirms his place at the top of my short list of favorite living writers. There are few authors who are capable of writing even a single article (let alone an entire book) that is so intellectually stimulating and even fewer who can communicate in such a witty and charming style. Indeed, since it's not out of order to call de Botton a philosopher, I tend to add "poet" to that, too. While reading, I struggle with two competing desires: to devour the book in a single sitting versus slowly savoring every sentence. I ordered this as a birthday present to myself from amazon.co.uk (I prefer the British covers of de Botton's work) and while it has not unseated On Love and The Art of Travel as my favorites of his books, I was still quite pleased with The Pleasures and Sorrows of Work. I only wish that de Botton had spent as much time deliberating on the less tangible concepts associated with work as he did reporting the facts of specific working lives, for his eloquent arguments of a more philosophical nature are always utterly fascinating.

In The Pleasures and Sorrows of Work, Alain de Botton poses a number of questions about work... What is it that has driven us into our respective occupations? Do we enjoy it? Why do we keep waking up day after day to do it? What does it mean to us? What does it mean to the larger world? Are we, in fact, capable of loving what we do on a daily basis? Do we have to in order to have a meaningful life?

Of course, what's interesting is that the majority of the book is not spent wrestling with these questions... but rather, these are the questions that spurred the author towards this topic. These are the questions that might be asked in book clubs when discussing this book, and these are the questions that are truly compelling... but rather than answer them directly (as I feel his other works are at least prone to attempt), de Botton seems to leave these open. Instead of expounding on the philosophical implications of our occupational choices, he has become more of a documentarian in both word and image, with a photograph on nearly every page. These pictures of warehouses, electrical pylons, and conference booths illustrate what often comes across as a bleak beauty to scenes of people at work or the results of our labor. And so this books ends up being much more about the people he interviews and their occupations rather than de Botton's thoughts on work. He is a reporter who comes back with astute observations, but does not delve too far into analyzing particular people or groups. I wonder if it was too personal or if he felt things might be too judgmental if he drew any conclusions from specific examples. I found it interesting that he completely refrained from personal musing on his own career (beyond occasionally offering a self-deprecating comment on his own failings in comparison to, say, inventors or engineers), though he purposely focuses on jobs that aren't often in the limelight. We go through ten separate "studies" of occupations that span a broad spectrum, where de Botton speaks with those people who have found themselves performing this work on a near daily basis.

Not since Walt Whitman have I found a writer so successful at conveying the dignity of work while still leaving room for us to ask if we are truly fulfilled. As I've already noted, my only wish was that there was more Alain de Botton in this book, but I think he's produced a fascinating study that will have you spending as much time in thought about your own occupation as you spend reading this book... and for a philosopher, I think that's an excellent goal to have achieved.

Here's a few links to other reviews of the book, and below, I included a piece that Alain de Botton wrote on why he settled on this topic.

http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2009/...
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/bo...
http://www.economist.com/displayStory...
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/st...

I wrote The Pleasures and Sorrows of Work to shine a spotlight on the working world. I wanted to write a book that would open our eyes to the beauty and occasional horror of the working world—and I did this by looking at 10 different industries, a deliberately eclectic range from accountancy to engineering, from biscuit manufacture to logistics.

The strangest thing about the world of work is the widespread expectation that our work should make us happy. For thousands of years, work was viewed as something to be done with as rapidly as possible and escaped in the imagination through alcohol or religion. Aristotle was the first of many philosophers to state that no one could be both free and obliged to earn a living. A more optimistic assessment of work had to wait until the eighteenth century and men like Jean-Jacques Rousseau and Benjamin Franklin, who for the first time argued that one's working life could be at the centre of any desire for happiness. It was during this century that our modern ideas about work were formed—at the very same time as our modern ideas about love and marriage took shape.

In the pre-modern age, it was assumed that no one could try to be in love and married: marriage was something one did for purely commercial reasons. Things were going well if you maintained a tepid friendship with your spouse. Meanwhile, love was something you did with your mistress, with pleasure untied to the responsibilities of child-rearing. Yet the new philosophers of love argued that one might actually aim to marry the person one was in love with rather than just have an affair. To this unusual idea was added the even more peculiar notion that one might work both for money and to realise one's dreams, an idea that replaced the previous assumption that the day job took care of the rent and anything more ambitious had to happen in one's spare time.

We are the heirs of these two very ambitious beliefs: that you can be in love and married, and in a job and having a good time. It has become as impossible for us to think that you could be out of work and happy as it had once seemed impossible for Aristotle to think that you could be employed and human. Thus is born The Pleasures and Sorrows of Work. —Alain de Botton ( )

This is the first book I've ever read from de Boton and it had a serene and Zen-like effect on me for a while. It was not very coherent, it did not contain very detailed analyses on the sociology of work and it jumped among diverse sectors such as from a biscuit factory in Belgium to a Japanese satellite launch in French Guiana but whatever de Boton described, he described in a subtle and sophisticated way which made me really smile without much change in my facial muscles. Alain de Boton is sometimes an armchair anthropologist wandering around the fishermen of exotic seas, a psychologist observing the dynamics of an international corporation, a postmodern philosopher gazing at the deep meanings reverberating from an aviation cemetery in the middle of an American desert.

The author's keen observations combined with a witty sense of humor makes this book a reading you'll possibly never regret. Especially the chapter which tells about a not so famous painter working to create meaning that extends beyond the temporary physical existence of a single mind may give the opportunity to reconsider what it really means to work. As the final sentence I'd like to thank to the photographer which helped me to the see even the most ordinary scenes like I have never seen before. ( )

I love the author's style. ( )

The usual Botton style. I liked it. Especially the chapters on logistics and the ship-watchers.

I am always a bit apprehensive to admit that I like the books of Alain de Botton. They balance precariously between the self-help guides ( How to get what you want in 7 easy lessons) and philosophy books for “dummies”, you’ll find at Airport bookstalls.
This is of course a misplaced feeling. Not only are Botton’s books very well written and readable, they are also crammed with intelligent knowledge, thoughts and references to Art and Philosophy.

In his book “Pleasures and Sorrows of Work”, de Botton guides us¸ in his clear and erudite prose, through the world of “Work”. He gives us a broad canvas of labour in all it’s aspects. Work is the activity which fills our life, which give us our “raison d’etre” and especially helps us to pay our mortgage.

The journey starts on the murky banks of the river Thames, where together with some “Boat spotters”, de Botton stands in awe for the huge container ships. He feels, before the commercial and industrial endeavours of the human kind, the same awe as the tourists in front of the Cathedral of Chartres. This is a normal feeling says de Botton. The human activities of building Ocean going ships, steering them around the globe, loading and unloading and dispatching it’s goods around England is as huge an accomplishment as building a cathedral in the fourteenth century.

In ten chapters, de Botton follows and introduces us to all kinds of people at work. We meet fisherman in the Indian Ocean, pilots, truck drivers, bookkeepers, inventors, cookie bakers, managers, marketers and even airplane component salespeople.
All of them take their job very seriously, organize themselves and with a lot of self discipline work to reach their respective objectives and targets.

Most of us are just cogs in a giant, complex network of tasks. Often, we do not realize where we stand in the chain of activities in which we participate. “How can we then take pleasure in our work?” demands de Botton.

The last chapter brings us to an Airplane cemetery in the desert. These skeletons, not unlike classical ruins, are clear statements of where all our activities, power and glory finally end. These planes, once at the edge of our technological knowhow, are now just metal scraps. This junk is sobering and at the same time comforting. It reminds us that in the end all our activity, our drive for wealth and glory is restricted in time.

And here de Bottom comes to his conclusion. Not only will a lifetime of working bring us material comfort or at least bread on our table, it will also offer a distraction from our Human condition. It gives us the possibility to strive and to attain our own small ambitions and accomplishments in an environment which we can intellectually grasp. Our preoccupation with our work will help us to forget our mortality and our temporarily presence in this world.

The pleasure and sorrows of work comes a bit as a disappointment.

I had the impression, after reading “Status anxiety”, the Botton’s previous book, that he was getting a bit more serious than his reputation of “the Rock & Roll philosopher”, but in “Pleasures and Sorrows of Work”, the intellectual analyses of his observations remain restricted to just a few lines mainly in the last chapter.

I also missed the references to works of Art, Literature and Philosophy which are “the pepper and salt” of otherwise the intellectual topics he is serving us. A short reference to Hopper and Ruskin, which we already know from his previous books, is all we get.
I would have enjoyed, even in his relaxed style, a more profound philosophical study of labour and what it does to us.

Conclusion?

Well, if you are new to de Botton, you better read “How Proust can change your life” or “ The art of travel “, my two favourites and if you have already read de Botton’s other works, than this one will be a bit of a let-down.

Oh Alain, I should probably not have spent my remaining pounds on your new book luring me with its discount in the dreadful waste of the airport bookstore. I could have brought along an enlightened book about early Renaissance female portraits written by an aspiring art historian. Instead, in the dreary airport world, with its noise and alienated fellow passengers I ended up with your latest work, which might be properly labeled the sorrows of Alain.

You are turning into a European Tom Friedman, writing book after book about topics your pampered existence hasn't really prepared you for and your sloth prevents you from doing research. A philosopher doesn't have to be right. Facts are just ephemeral and if you end up on both sides of an issue, who cares?

I care. I care about the people. The people who have given you their time to be interviewed and are being rewarded by condescending remarks about their looks and their life. You lack the love for people that shows in the works of Studs Terkel, and you lack the love of objects and process that shows in the description of a Simon Winchester. Instead of presenting the marvel of a biscuit designed in England and produced in Belgium, you are more interested in informing your readers about your late-night channel surfing.

I also care about the people who read your book and will be misinformed. It was Adam Smith (not Vilfredo Pareto) who said that the size of a market determines the division of labor. Or discovering a Protestant work ethic in Catholic Belgium. This are just tiny mistakes which a little knowledge of economics, sociology and history might have prevented. But a philosopher doesn't care about the details. A philosopher thinks big thoughts? Unfortunately, Alain's thinking is faulty too. It is perfectly valid to hold the view that less automation and more manual labor is desirable. You are following in the proud luddite footsteps. It is equally valid to say that those biscuit factory workers have dreadful jobs. Most human resources specialists would agree with you. Holding on to both your ideas at the same time, however, leads to the conclusion that you seek more horrible working conditions for your fellow humans. Besides, those workers would have to be one hell of productive bastards to match the machine's output of 35.000 biscuits per hour.

There are two factors that Alain ignores (and even deplores). Firstly, consumer rent. Productivity growth has brought former luxury products to the masses. You don't have to be a king to taste fine things. Alain's writing has a tinge of nostalgia for the time when only the privileged few had access. Secondly, the magic of prices and the invisible hand. Prices and money are wonderful devices to allocate resources to just those tasks in demand. You want ice-cream in the middle of the night? For a small consideration, the market will satisfy your needs. Can the market provide everything? No. Are there market failures? Naturally, and the remedies exist. Alain's limited understanding of economics leads to an unwarranted pessimism and a faulty view of the workings of a modern economy.

I also care about the processes and products that are given short shrift in Alain's reporting. Following products from their origin to their use is a great concept. Alain's lazy vignettes hardly reveal the challenges and elements of the individual stages, Only the stylish photographs partly compensate for this lack of attention. Overall, like his US colleague, the great "mustache of understanding", Alain de Botton remains trapped in his cozy prejudices despite traveling around the globe. Only in an unjust world become such books bestsellers. ( )