Dirk von Gehlen – Essentially Less: Book Review & Audio Summary

Book Info

• Book name: Essentially Less
• Author: Dirk von Gehlen
• Genre: Business & Economics, Self-Help & Personal Development
• Published Year: 2020
• Publisher: LIT Verlag
• Language: German

Audio Summary

Synopsis

In “Essentially Less,” German journalist Dirk von Gehlen presents a compelling manifesto for the attention economy era. Drawing inspiration from Michael Ende’s classic novel “Momo,” von Gehlen argues that attention has become our most precious resource in the internet age. He challenges the traditional “more is better” mindset that dominates content creation and proposes a radical shift toward valuing condensed, essential information. Through references to economic theory, time management principles, and cultural analysis, von Gehlen makes the case that shorter, more focused content isn’t lazy—it’s sophisticated. This book serves as both a wake-up call and a practical guide for anyone drowning in information overload.

Key Takeaways

• Attention is the most valuable resource in the modern economy because it directly consumes our limited time
• The traditional quantity-value principle (more pages equals more value) is becoming obsolete in the information age
• The Pareto principle applies to content consumption: 20% of effort often yields 80% of desired understanding
• Condensing information to its essentials is a sophisticated skill, not a shortcut or compromise
• How we perceive time depends on our focus and engagement, not just the clock

My Summary

When Less Really Is More

I’ll be honest—when I first encountered “Essentially Less,” I was skeptical. Another book about productivity and attention management? But here’s what grabbed me: Dirk von Gehlen doesn’t just preach about attention management; he practices it. This isn’t a 300-page tome that could’ve been a blog post. It’s a focused, deliberate piece of work that respects your time while delivering genuine insights.

What struck me most was von Gehlen’s use of Michael Ende’s “Momo” as a framing device. If you haven’t read “Momo,” it’s a German children’s classic about a little girl who fights against “gray gentlemen” who steal people’s time under the guise of helping them save it. It’s a perfect metaphor for our current digital landscape, where apps and platforms promise to make our lives easier while actually fragmenting our attention into a thousand pieces.

As someone who reads dozens of books each year for Books4soul.com, I’ve noticed this trend von Gehlen describes: books getting longer without necessarily getting better. Publishers seem to believe that a $27 book needs to be at least 250 pages to justify its price tag, even if the core message could be communicated in 100.

The Attention Economy Isn’t Coming—It’s Already Here

Von Gehlen builds his argument on the foundational work of economist Georg Franck, who wrote “The Economy of Attention” in 1998. But he reaches even further back to Herbert Simon’s 1971 observation that perfectly captures our current predicament: “A wealth of information creates a poverty of attention.”

Think about that for a moment. We have access to more information than any generation in human history. I can pull up my phone right now and access virtually the entire corpus of human knowledge. Yet I feel more scattered and less informed than ever. Why? Because information doesn’t just exist passively—it actively consumes our attention.

This concept has profound implications for how we create and consume content. Every email, notification, article, and video is competing for the same finite resource: your attention. And unlike money, which you can save and accumulate, time resets to exactly 24 hours every single day. You can’t bank it. You can’t borrow it. You can only spend it.

In my own work as a blogger and former author, I’ve wrestled with this tension constantly. Should I write comprehensive 3,000-word analyses that cover every angle? Or should I aim for focused 1,000-word pieces that hit the essential points? Von Gehlen’s work has helped me reframe this question entirely: the goal isn’t to choose between long and short, but between essential and non-essential.

Why We Still Worship at the Altar of “More”

Von Gehlen identifies what he calls the “quantity value principle”—the assumption that more content equals more value. This principle is everywhere once you start looking for it. Academic papers are judged by length. Business reports are expected to be comprehensive. Books are physically weighed to assess their worth.

I remember working on my first book and feeling pressure from my publisher to hit a certain page count. “Readers expect substance,” they told me. But what they really meant was: readers expect volume. The two aren’t the same thing.

This mindset made sense in an era of information scarcity. When books were rare and expensive, you wanted to pack as much information as possible between the covers. But we don’t live in that world anymore. We live in a world where the bottleneck isn’t access to information—it’s our capacity to process it.

The quantity value principle has another insidious effect: it makes us feel guilty about not finishing things. How many books are sitting on your nightstand right now, half-read, making you feel like a failure every time you see them? How many articles have you bookmarked “to read later” knowing you probably never will?

Von Gehlen argues that this guilt is misplaced. The problem isn’t your lack of discipline or focus. The problem is that we’re applying old standards to a new reality. We’re trying to be comprehensive consumers in an age that demands selective attention.

The Pareto Principle Meets Content Creation

One of the most practical concepts von Gehlen introduces is applying the Pareto principle to content consumption. Also known as the 80/20 rule, this principle suggests that 20% of effort typically produces 80% of results.

In the context of reading and learning, this means that you often get most of the value from a book in the first 20% of your engagement with it. You grasp the core argument, understand the main examples, and can apply the key insights. The remaining 80% might provide additional nuance and depth, but it’s subject to diminishing returns.

This doesn’t mean you should only read 20% of every book. Some books reward deep, complete engagement. But it does mean we should stop feeling obligated to finish every book we start, especially when we’ve already extracted the core value.

I’ve started applying this principle to my own reading practice. When I pick up a business or self-help book, I now ask myself: “What am I hoping to get from this?” If I find that answer in the first few chapters, I give myself permission to move on. This has actually increased the number of books I engage with and made my reading feel more purposeful rather than obligatory.

The satiation effect von Gehlen describes is real. There’s a point where consuming more content about a topic doesn’t improve your understanding—it just creates confusion and fatigue. If you’ve ever gone down a research rabbit hole, reading article after article until you can’t remember what the first one said, you know exactly what I mean.

Time Is Relative—Especially When You’re Focused

One of my favorite sections of “Essentially Less” is von Gehlen’s discussion of time perception. He references time researcher Jonas Geisler’s humorous observation: “How we perceive time depends on whether we are on this or that side of the toilet door.”

It’s funny because it’s true. Time crawls when we’re bored or anxious. It flies when we’re engaged and focused. This subjective experience of time has huge implications for how we think about content and attention.

Von Gehlen illustrates this through Beppo the road sweeper from “Momo.” Beppo’s secret to handling overwhelming tasks is to focus only on the next sweep of his broom, then the next one, then the next. He doesn’t think about the miles of road ahead—just the immediate action in front of him.

This is essentially a literary description of what psychologists call “flow state”—that feeling of being completely absorbed in a task where time seems to disappear. When we’re in flow, we’re not anxiously watching the clock or wondering how much longer something will take. We’re simply present with what we’re doing.

The opposite phenomenon is captured by Parkinson’s Law: work expands to fill the time available for its completion. Give yourself two hours to write an email, and it will somehow take two hours. Give yourself ten minutes, and you’ll probably finish it in twelve.

What does this mean for content creation and consumption? It suggests that the “depth” of content isn’t measured by its length but by its ability to engage our attention. A 10-minute video that keeps you completely absorbed might provide more value than a 3-hour documentary you watch while scrolling through your phone.

Condensing Is a Craft, Not a Compromise

Perhaps von Gehlen’s most important contribution is reframing condensed content as sophisticated rather than superficial. He points to Winston Churchill’s 1940 memo demanding shorter reports from his war cabinet. Churchill understood that brevity isn’t laziness—it’s clarity.

This resonates deeply with my experience as a writer. It’s actually harder to write something short and good than something long and mediocre. Condensing requires you to truly understand your subject, identify what matters most, and cut away everything else. It’s like sculpture—you’re revealing the essential form by removing what doesn’t belong.

Mark Twain (supposedly) once wrote: “I didn’t have time to write you a short letter, so I wrote you a long one instead.” Whether or not he actually said this, the sentiment is spot-on. Brevity takes effort. It takes revision. It takes the confidence to say, “This is enough.”

In the age of content overload, creators who can master this skill will have a massive advantage. Think about why TED Talks became so popular—not despite their 18-minute limit, but because of it. The constraint forces speakers to distill their ideas to their essence. The same principle applies to Twitter threads, Instagram carousels, and yes, book summaries.

Von Gehlen suggests that we’re entering an era where condensed formats will be valued more highly than comprehensive ones. Singles instead of albums. TED Talks instead of lectures. Focused books instead of encyclopedic ones. This isn’t about dumbing things down—it’s about respecting people’s attention as the precious resource it is.

Applying These Ideas to Daily Life

So how do we actually put von Gehlen’s insights into practice? Here are some approaches I’ve been experimenting with since reading “Essentially Less”:

Audit your content consumption. For one week, track what you read, watch, and listen to. How much of it was truly valuable? How much was just filling time? This isn’t about judgment—it’s about awareness. I did this exercise and was shocked to discover how much time I spent consuming content that I couldn’t remember or use just days later.

Give yourself permission to quit. Start that book, article, or video, but don’t feel obligated to finish if it’s not serving you. I now use what I call the “50-page rule” for books: if I’m not getting value by page 50, I move on. Life’s too short to finish books out of obligation.

Seek out condensed formats. This might seem self-serving since I run a book summary site, but I genuinely believe in the value of condensed content. Read the summary first. If it sparks your interest and you want more depth, then invest in the full book. This approach has actually led me to read more complete books because I’m choosing them more intentionally.

Practice “essential” communication. Before writing that email or report, ask yourself: what’s the one thing the recipient needs to know? Lead with that. Everything else is supporting detail. I’ve started using the “BLUF” method (Bottom Line Up Front) borrowed from military communication, and it’s made my writing so much clearer.

Create attention boundaries. Just as you might set financial boundaries or physical boundaries, set attention boundaries. For me, this means no phone for the first hour after waking up, no news during meals, and one day per week completely offline. These boundaries have dramatically improved my focus and reduced my anxiety.

Where Von Gehlen’s Argument Could Go Deeper

While I found “Essentially Less” valuable, it’s not without limitations. Von Gehlen is stronger on diagnosis than prescription. He clearly articulates the problem of attention scarcity and the outdated quantity value principle, but he offers fewer concrete strategies for individuals trying to navigate this landscape.

The book also focuses primarily on professional and intellectual content—business books, reports, articles. It doesn’t deeply explore how these principles apply to other forms of content like fiction, art, or entertainment. Is a 900-page fantasy novel excessive, or is its length part of the experience? Von Gehlen doesn’t really address these questions.

I also would have appreciated more discussion of the economic forces that perpetuate the quantity value principle. Publishers, platforms, and advertisers all have incentives to keep us consuming more content for longer periods. Von Gehlen acknowledges the “attention economy” but doesn’t fully explore how we might resist or reshape it.

Additionally, there’s a potential class dimension here that goes unexamined. The ability to be selective about content consumption is, in some ways, a privilege. If your job requires you to stay on top of industry news, read lengthy reports, and respond to constant communication, you can’t simply opt out of the attention economy. Von Gehlen’s advice is most applicable to people who have some control over their time and attention.

How This Fits Into the Broader Conversation

Von Gehlen’s work sits in an interesting space alongside other books about attention and information management. It shares DNA with Cal Newport’s “Deep Work” and “Digital Minimalism,” which advocate for focused attention and intentional technology use. Like Newport, von Gehlen recognizes that attention is both a cognitive resource and an economic one.

It also resonates with Ryan Holiday’s “Stillness Is the Key” and Jenny Odell’s “How to Do Nothing,” both of which push back against the constant productivity and consumption demanded by modern life. Where von Gehlen differs is in his specific focus on content—not just digital distraction in general, but the specific problem of information overload.

The book that “Essentially Less” most reminds me of is actually “The Elements of Style” by Strunk and White. Both are short, focused works that argue for clarity and brevity. Both suggest that good communication is about subtraction as much as addition. And both are, in their own way, demonstrations of their core principles.

What makes von Gehlen’s contribution unique is his framing of this as an economic issue, not just a personal productivity one. He’s not just saying “you’ll be happier if you consume less content” (though that might be true). He’s saying that the fundamental economics of content are shifting from quantity to quality, from comprehensive to essential.

Questions Worth Pondering

Reading “Essentially Less” left me with some questions I’m still wrestling with. How do we balance the value of condensed, essential content with the deep, slow thinking that sometimes requires immersion in longer works? Is there a risk that optimizing everything for attention efficiency makes us impatient with complexity?

I’m also curious about how these principles apply across different domains. The rules for business content might be different from the rules for literature or journalism. A 10-page strategic memo should probably be concise, but should a novel? Should investigative journalism? Where do we draw the line between “essentially less” and “too little”?

And here’s a question for you: What’s one piece of content you consumed recently that you wish had been shorter? And conversely, what’s something you’re glad you experienced in its full, unabridged form? I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments.

Why This Book Matters Now

We’re at an inflection point in how we create and consume content. The old models—lengthy books, comprehensive reports, exhaustive analyses—made sense when information was scarce. But we’ve crossed into a new era where information is abundant and attention is scarce.

Von Gehlen’s “Essentially Less” helps us understand this transition and gives us permission to adapt. It validates what many of us have been feeling: that we can’t possibly keep up with everything, and that’s okay. More than okay—it’s necessary.

The book is particularly timely given the rise of AI and large language models, which can generate unlimited amounts of content at virtually no cost. If we thought we had an information overload problem before, we haven’t seen anything yet. In a world where content is infinitely abundant, the ability to identify and focus on what’s essential becomes even more critical.

What I appreciate most about von Gehlen’s approach is that it’s not anti-intellectual or anti-depth. He’s not arguing for superficiality. He’s arguing for intentionality. He’s saying that we should measure content by its impact on our attention and understanding, not by its length or comprehensiveness.

A Final Thought

Reading “Essentially Less” felt like getting permission to trust my instincts. For years, I’ve felt guilty about not finishing books, about skimming articles, about seeking out summaries instead of always reading the full text. Von Gehlen’s work helped me reframe these behaviors not as failures of discipline but as rational adaptations to an environment of information abundance.

The irony, of course, is that I’ve just written over 2,500 words about a book that advocates for brevity. But I think von Gehlen would appreciate the paradox. The point isn’t that everything should be short—it’s that everything should be as long as it needs to be and no longer. Some ideas require space to develop. Others can be captured in a sentence.

If you’re feeling overwhelmed by the constant demands on your attention, if you’re drowning in unread books and articles, if you’re wondering how to keep up in an age of infinite content, “Essentially Less” offers both validation and a path forward. It’s a quick read that respects your time while delivering genuine insight—which is exactly what it promises to be.

I’d love to hear how you manage your attention and content consumption. What strategies work for you? What are you struggling with? Let’s continue this conversation in the comments below. After all, the attention economy affects all of us, and we’re all figuring this out together.