How to Be Less Useful: The Joy of Inefficiency Book Review and Summary
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Beatriz Costa - 24 Aug, 2026 03:55
Author: Priyanka Mattoo
Page Count: Unknown
Publication Date: Expected publication 2026-11-03 APL
The clock on the wall has been stuck at 3:42 AM for the last two hours, humming a low, electric frequency that drills straight into my temples. God, I need a cigarette or a miracle or perhaps just a very long nap that lasts until next Tuesday. Instead, I am staring at a computer screen trying to hit a word count for an anticipatory preview of How to Be Less Useful by Priyanka Mattoo because rent is due and the universe lacks a mercy switch.
Look. The premise of this upcoming memoir-slash-self-help hybrid hits a very specific, raw nerve for anyone currently drowning in the relentless corporate optimization of modern existence. We traded naps for notifications. We traded dessert for guilt. Mattoo captures that terrifying mid-life precipice where you realize you followed every single rule of the societal handbook—did everything right, stayed on the treadmill, answered the emails at midnight—and somehow completely missed the actual point of being alive.
The Cult of Efficiency and the Death of Pointless Hangs
The central thematic thrust here is a rebellion against the algorithmic capture of human leisure. Between the ages of thirty and forty, joy quietly gets audited out of our schedules. Summer vacations become logistics nightmares. Texting turns into high-latency maintenance. Even eating a decent meal requires navigating five different rating apps until the magic is completely sucked out of the experience.
Mattoo proposes a radical, much-needed antidote: stepping out of the grind. Not burning it all down—because who has the energy for a full lifestyle arson when you have bills to pay and laundry piling up?—but simply choosing to drop the ball on purpose. Be a worse employee. Be a slightly absent friend. Let the dishes sit in the sink until morning.
Why This Might Actually Work
We have lived through a decade of wellness culture telling us to optimize our sleep, biohack our focus, and meditate harder so we can produce more value for the machine. This book smells like a refreshing antidote to that exhausting nonsense. It sits neatly on a shelf somewhere between Samantha Irby’s sharp, self-deprecating essay collections and the chaotic, comforting domesticity of Nora Ephron, though with a distinct eye toward the specific exhaustion of contemporary parenting and partnership.
Will the actual text deliver on the promise of the synopsis, or will it coast on a few witty one-liners about Paddington Bear and karaoke? It is impossible to tell from publisher copy alone—syllables designed to hook tired people at midnight always sound better than the product itself. Yet, the voice feels genuinely lived-in. There is a weary, hard-won wisdom in asking what pleasure actually serves when you are too tired to enjoy it.
The Grind Never Rests
My shift ends in twenty-two minutes, provided the relief worker doesn’t ghost again like she did last Thursday. I am going to close this tab, stare blankly into the breakroom fluorescent lights, and wonder why contemporary literature has to diagnose the exact malaise keeping me awake at four in the morning. My local independent bookstore has run out of my favorite literary magazine, which feels like a personal insult engineered specifically for tonight.
