Book Notes #112: How We Learn by Benedict Carey

Title: How We Learn: The Surprising Truth About When, Where, and Why It Happens
Author: Benedict Carey
Year: 2014
Pages: 272

Benedict Carey, a science journalist, gives us a look into the fascinating world of how our brains learn, remember, and use information.

What I like about the book is how it combines interesting stories with useful research to show us a new way of thinking about learning.

Carey challenges the usual ideas, explaining that learning isn’t a simple, straight path. Instead, it’s a mix of different things like sleep, stress, and even forgetting. For me, this makes learning feel much more complex and real, not just something we do in a clear order.

As a result, I gave this book a rating of 7.5/10.

For me, a book with a note 10 is one I consider reading again every year. Among the books I rank with 10, for example, are How to Win Friends and Influence People and Factfulness.

3 Reasons to Read How We Learn

Book Overview

If you’ve ever found yourself rereading the same page five times before a test or pulling an all-nighter only to forget everything the next day, you’re not alone—and you’re not learning effectively. That’s the tough truth Benedict Carey tackles in How We Learn, a book that takes everything we assume about memory, focus, and study habits and flips it on its head.

Carey opens the door to a different world of learning—one that doesn’t demand rigid discipline or hours locked in a quiet room. Instead, he suggests that the brain learns best when it’s doing what it evolved to do: exploring, wandering, and even getting distracted. It’s a surprising message, but one that makes total sense the more you read. And the best part? The book is full of practical insights that you can start using right away, whether you’re a student, a parent, a teacher, or just someone who wants to remember more and stress less.

One of the big ideas Carey brings to the table is something called desirable difficulty—the notion that learning shouldn’t always feel smooth or easy. In fact, a little struggle is a good thing. When we test ourselves, switch topics, or come back to material after a break, our brain works harder to retrieve and connect information, which actually makes it stick better. It’s like working out a muscle—you’ve got to challenge it if you want to see growth.

This ties directly into techniques like spaced repetition, where you space out your study sessions instead of cramming everything into one block of time. Carey doesn’t just say this works—he shows why it works, digging into brain science in a way that’s easy to follow. Another favorite of mine from the book is interleaving. Instead of studying one topic or solving one type of problem over and over, you mix things up. At first, it feels confusing. But the confusion is the point. That little bit of friction helps your brain learn how to transfer knowledge across situations—which is really what learning is all about.

One chapter I found especially eye-opening was about the power of forgetting. Carey explains that forgetting isn’t the failure of memory—it’s part of how memory works. When we forget something and then recall it again, we strengthen that memory even more. That means the cycle of remembering, forgetting, and relearning is not just natural—it’s essential. It completely changes how we think about mistakes and failure in the learning process.

And then there’s testing. Most of us see tests as something to fear, something we prepare for. But Carey shows that tests aren’t just a way to measure learning—they’re a tool for learning. Even low-stakes testing, like flashcards or mini quizzes, helps anchor knowledge more securely in the brain. And interestingly, you don’t even have to get the answers right to benefit. The very act of trying to remember something boosts your chances of getting it right later.

What I love about How We Learn is how readable it is. Carey has a gift for turning cognitive science into relatable stories. He weaves in real-life examples, historical studies, and even personal moments that make you feel like you’re sitting across from a friend who just happens to know a ton about how the brain works.

The ideas in this book don’t just live on the page—they change how you approach learning in real life. Whether it’s taking breaks strategically, using naps as memory boosters, or mixing up your study routine to stay mentally sharp, Carey provides tools that are easy to try and hard to forget.

If you want to really understand how learning works, How We Learn is a must-read. It’s one of those books that gently but firmly reshapes the way you think, not by overwhelming you with theory, but by helping you see the simple, powerful truth behind how we absorb and remember information.

For me, it’s a great resource for everyone—whether you’re a student, a professional, or an educator. Carey makes learning feel engaging with his story-telling style and research-backed ideas. He doesn’t just want you to study better—he wants you to enjoy learning again.

And honestly? After reading this book, you just might.

Chapter by Chapter

Chapter 1: The Story Maker – The Biology of Memory

Memory is one of those things we take for granted. We assume it works like a filing cabinet or a hard drive, neatly storing away everything we experience so we can retrieve it later. But Benedict Carey starts this chapter by showing us that memory is anything but simple—it’s dynamic, ever-changing, and even a little messy.

The Brain: A Storytelling Machine

One of the coolest ideas in this chapter is that our brain isn’t just recording information; it’s shaping it into a story. Think of your brain as a movie director piecing together clips from your experiences, adding emotions, context, and meaning along the way. This is why two people can remember the same event differently—because their brains have built different “stories” from the same raw material.

Carey introduces a fascinating metaphor: our brain works like a film production crew. Different parts of the brain handle different aspects of memory, much like how a movie crew has specialized roles—camera operators, sound designers, editors. The entorhinal cortex filters incoming information, the hippocampus is where memories start to form, and the neocortex is where long-term memories live. These areas work together to create the story of our lives, often tweaking and revising past events each time we recall them.

How Memories Are Stored

If you think of memory as a video you can replay at will, think again. Scientists have discovered that memories exist in the brain as networks of neurons firing together. Picture it like a string of Christmas lights: when one part of the memory activates, the rest of it lights up too.

Carey explains this idea with a fascinating study where researchers implanted electrodes into the brains of epilepsy patients. When patients watched videos of famous people or places, certain neurons fired in a distinct pattern. The crazy part? When they later recalled those clips, the same neurons fired in the exact same way, as if their brains were replaying the video.

But here’s the kicker: every time you recall a memory, you slightly change it. It’s like opening a saved document, making some edits, and saving a new version. Over time, the memory drifts further from the original event, blending in new details and emotions. This explains why your childhood stories evolve over the years—your brain isn’t lying to you, it’s just continuously rewriting its script.

The Role of the Hippocampus: The Case of H.M.

One of the most famous cases in neuroscience is that of Henry Molaison, known as H.M. After undergoing brain surgery to treat severe seizures, H.M. lost the ability to form new memories. He could remember his childhood but had no recollection of anything that happened after his surgery. He would meet someone, have a conversation, and just a few minutes later, forget it ever happened.

His case revealed something crucial: the hippocampus is essential for creating new memories, but once those memories are stored in the neocortex, they no longer depend on it. That’s why H.M. could remember things from years ago but couldn’t create new long-term memories.

Interestingly, he could still learn new motor skills, like drawing shapes while looking at them in a mirror. Even though he had no memory of practicing, he got better over time. This showed scientists that there are different types of memory—some rely on the hippocampus, while others, like motor skills, are stored elsewhere.

The Left Brain: The Story Interpreter

Now, here’s where things get really mind-blowing. Scientists found that the left hemisphere of the brain constantly tries to make sense of our experiences, even if it has incomplete information. They tested this by studying patients who had undergone split-brain surgery, where the connection between the two halves of the brain is cut to treat epilepsy.

In one experiment, a patient was shown a picture of a chicken foot with one eye and a snowy scene with the other. When asked to pick related objects, the patient correctly chose a chicken to match the foot and a shovel to match the snow. But when asked why they picked the shovel, they said, “To clean out the chicken coop.” Their left brain, which hadn’t seen the snowy scene, simply made up a logical explanation.

This experiment revealed something huge: our brain is constantly interpreting reality, filling in gaps when information is missing. It doesn’t like uncertainty, so it invents explanations to create a coherent story.

Carey leaves us with a powerful idea: our memories are not perfect records of the past; they are dynamic, flexible, and shaped by our brains to make sense of our experiences. Every time we recall something, we’re reconstructing it, sometimes altering small details along the way. This means that while our memories are essential for learning and decision-making, they are also fallible and influenced by our emotions, biases, and new experiences.

So the next time you vividly remember an event from years ago, just know—your brain may have done a little editing along the way.

Chapter 2: The Power of Forgetting – A New Theory of Learning

Forgetting gets a bad reputation. We think of it as a flaw, a sign that our memory is failing us. But in this chapter, Benedict Carey flips the script—forgetting isn’t just inevitable, it’s actually necessary for learning. Sounds counterintuitive, right? Let’s dive in.

Why Forgetting is a Good Thing

Imagine your brain as a cluttered desk. If every single memory, thought, or piece of information you’ve ever encountered was always at the surface, your mind would be a mess. You’d struggle to focus on anything important. This is why forgetting matters—it acts as a filter, keeping the most useful information accessible while letting the rest fade into the background.

Carey uses an interesting analogy: the brain is like a search engine. When you type a query into Google, it doesn’t pull up every webpage that exists. It ranks results based on relevance. Similarly, the brain prioritizes memories that seem important and suppresses the ones that aren’t needed at the moment.

The Forgetting Curve and Why It’s Misleading

Back in the 1880s, a German psychologist named Hermann Ebbinghaus conducted a famous experiment on memory. He memorized lists of nonsense syllables (like MEK, ZOF, and DUS) and then tested how quickly he forgot them over time. He found that memory decays rapidly at first and then levels off—a pattern now known as the Forgetting Curve.

At first glance, this seems depressing. If we forget so quickly, what’s the point of studying? But here’s the twist: Ebbinghaus was testing himself on meaningless information. His findings don’t necessarily apply to real-world learning, where concepts connect to other ideas and emotions.

This leads us to an even more fascinating discovery—sometimes, forgetting actually helps us remember better later on.

Forgetting as a Strength: The Case of Reminiscence

Carey introduces us to an almost forgotten (pun intended) researcher named Philip Boswood Ballard, who, in the early 1900s, ran a different kind of memory experiment. He had students memorize a poem and then tested them on it immediately. A few days later, without any further practice, he tested them again. Surprisingly, many students performed better on the second test, even though they hadn’t reviewed the material at all.

How is that possible? Carey explains that when we initially forget something, it’s not necessarily gone—it’s just buried. And when we try to recall it later, our brain has to work harder to reconstruct the memory. This effort strengthens our ability to remember it in the future.

Think of it like a muscle. When you lift weights, you create small tears in your muscles. As they heal, they grow stronger. Similarly, when we struggle to recall something we’ve partially forgotten, our brain works harder to rebuild the connection, making it stronger in the long run.

Forgetting Helps Learning Stick

So what does all this mean for how we learn? The key takeaway is that forgetting is an essential part of learning. Instead of fearing it, we should embrace it as a natural part of the process.

Carey argues that if you want to retain something long-term, you shouldn’t just cram it into your brain and hope it sticks. Instead, you should space out your learning, allowing yourself to forget and then relearn. This technique, known as spaced repetition, forces the brain to work harder to recall information, strengthening those memory connections over time.

Forget to learn. That’s the surprising truth at the heart of this chapter. The brain isn’t designed to hold onto every piece of information—it’s designed to prioritize and refine what truly matters. Forgetting helps weed out distractions, strengthens learning through recall, and ultimately makes our memory more efficient.

So the next time you feel frustrated because you forgot something, take it as a good sign. Your brain is just doing its job, making space for what really matters.

Chapter 3: Breaking Good Habits – The Effect of Context on Learning

We’ve always been told that consistency is key when it comes to learning. Study in the same quiet place, develop a routine, and stick with it. But in this chapter, Benedict Carey challenges that idea. He argues that too much consistency can actually make learning weaker, and that varying where and how we study helps us retain information better.

Why Context Matters in Learning

One of the most surprising ideas in this chapter is that memory is heavily tied to the environment where we first learn something. Our brains don’t just store information—they also store details about the setting, emotions, and even background noise that was present when we first encountered it. This is why students sometimes struggle to recall facts during an exam, even if they studied them well—because the test environment feels completely different from where they learned the material.

Carey explains that this is known as context-dependent learning. If you always study in the same place, your brain links that information to that environment. When you try to recall it somewhere else, like in a different classroom or during a stressful test, it becomes harder to retrieve. This means that studying in multiple locations can actually strengthen learning, because it forces the brain to recall information in different settings, making it more adaptable.

The Danger of Over-Reliance on Routine

We love routines because they give us a sense of control. But Carey argues that when it comes to learning, routines can create a false sense of mastery. If you always review notes under the same conditions—at your desk, in silence, with a cup of coffee—your brain gets used to those cues. This makes it feel like you’ve got the material down, but in reality, you might just be relying on those environmental triggers. Take those away, and suddenly, recalling the information becomes much harder.

The author shares research showing that people who vary their study habits—by switching locations, using different times of day, or even studying with background noise—tend to remember things better in the long run. Why? Because their brains are learning to recall information under different conditions, making them more flexible thinkers.

Breaking Good Habits to Improve Learning

The big takeaway from this chapter is that we shouldn’t rely too much on structured, repetitive learning environments. While it might feel comforting to always study in the same way, introducing variety helps us retain knowledge better. Try studying in different places, at different times, and even under different conditions—sometimes with music, sometimes in silence, sometimes sitting at a desk, sometimes on a couch.

Carey isn’t saying we should abandon discipline or stop practicing regularly. Instead, he’s suggesting that we need to make learning more dynamic, so that our brains can recall information in a variety of settings. This approach doesn’t just make learning more effective—it also makes it more interesting and engaging.

Chapter 4 – Spacing Out: The Advantage of Breaking Up Study Time

Most of us have been guilty of cramming before a big test or deadline, believing that stuffing as much information into our heads as quickly as possible is the best way to learn. But in this chapter, Benedict Carey explains why that strategy is actually working against us. Instead of cramming, spacing out study sessions over time is one of the most effective ways to remember things in the long run.

One of the most interesting ideas in this chapter is that forgetting is not the enemy of learning—it’s actually part of the process. When we take breaks between study sessions, we inevitably forget some of the material. But when we return to it later, our brains have to work harder to retrieve the information, reinforcing those memory pathways and making them stronger. It’s like exercising a muscle—the more you challenge it, the stronger it gets.

The author introduces the concept of spaced repetition, a technique that involves reviewing information at strategic intervals rather than all at once. Scientists have found that the ideal time to revisit information is right before you’re about to forget it. If you review too soon, it’s too easy and doesn’t strengthen the memory. If you review too late, you might have to relearn too much. But when you space out study sessions just right, you maximize retention while minimizing effort.

Carey also challenges the idea that long, uninterrupted study sessions are the best way to learn. In reality, the brain needs time to process and consolidate information. He describes studies where students who spread their studying over several days or weeks consistently outperformed those who crammed in a single session. The spaced-out learners not only retained more information but also understood it better and were able to apply it in new ways.

So what’s the takeaway? If you want to remember something for the long term, break up your study time instead of doing it all at once. Whether it’s learning a new language, preparing for an exam, or mastering a skill, spacing out your practice sessions will help you retain information more effectively. It might feel slower at first, but in the long run, it saves time and effort—because you won’t have to keep relearning the same things over and over again.

Chapter 5 – The Hidden Value of Ignorance: The Many Dimensions of Testing

Most people see tests as a way to measure what they know, a final judgment on whether they’ve learned something or not. But in this chapter, Benedict Carey challenges that view, arguing that testing isn’t just for evaluation—it’s actually one of the best ways to learn.

One of the most surprising ideas in this chapter is that even failing a test can be beneficial. We tend to think of failure as a sign that we’re not smart enough or didn’t study hard enough, but Carey explains that struggling with information—even getting things wrong—actually strengthens our memory. When we try to recall something and fail, our brains make a mental note of the gap, making it more likely that we’ll remember the right answer when we see it again.

This idea comes from research showing that students who take practice tests—before they even fully understand the material—end up performing better in the long run than those who just read and reread their notes. The act of retrieving information, even imperfectly, cements it into memory in a way that passive studying doesn’t. In other words, testing isn’t just about proving what you know—it’s about helping you learn in the first place.

The author also explores a fascinating experiment where students were split into two groups. One group studied material in the usual way, while the other was given frequent quizzes, even on things they hadn’t yet learned. When tested later, the quizzed group outperformed the others—even on material that wasn’t directly covered in the tests. The reason? Regular testing forces the brain to organize and connect information, making it more accessible when needed.

Carey makes a compelling case that we should rethink the role of testing. Instead of dreading quizzes and exams, we should use them as tools for deeper learning. Taking practice tests, even when we feel unprepared, helps us lock in knowledge. Guessing—even when we’re wrong—helps prime the brain for remembering the correct information later. And the more often we challenge ourselves with recall, the stronger our memories become.

The key takeaway here is that struggling to remember is not a sign of failure—it’s a sign that learning is happening. So instead of avoiding tests, we should embrace them as a powerful way to reinforce knowledge.

Chapter 6 – The Upside of Distraction: The Role of Incubation in Problem Solving

We’re often told that deep focus is the key to solving problems. If you’re stuck, just concentrate harder, eliminate distractions, and power through. But this chapter turns that idea upside down. Benedict Carey argues that sometimes, stepping away from a problem is exactly what our brains need to find a solution.

One of the most relatable moments in this chapter is when Carey shares his own experience of stage fright. Standing in front of an unexpected auditorium full of students, his mind went blank. Instead of panicking, he stalled by introducing a puzzle. This wasn’t just a survival move—it was a demonstration of a psychological phenomenon. The students struggled with the puzzle at first, but after a brief distraction with a different problem, some were suddenly able to solve it. This is the essence of incubation—the idea that taking a break, even getting distracted, can actually help us come up with solutions to problems we were stuck on.

Carey dives into the history of incubation research, showing how scientists have tried to figure out what happens in our brains when we stop consciously working on a problem. He introduces the work of Graham Wallas, a psychologist who broke problem-solving into four stages: preparation, where we gather information and try different approaches; incubation, where we step away and let our subconscious take over; illumination, the “aha!” moment when a solution suddenly appears; and verification, where we confirm that our idea actually works.

The book explains that during incubation, our brains don’t just shut down—they continue to work on the problem in the background. Studies show that when people take breaks, especially engaging ones like a walk or a casual conversation, their brains keep processing the unsolved problem, often leading to sudden insights when they return to it.

One experiment Carey describes is the famous pendulum problem, where people are asked to tie two ropes together, but the ropes are too far apart to reach both at once. Most people struggle with the solution until a subtle hint—like someone brushing against a rope and making it swing—sparks an idea. The insight happens not because they were consciously thinking about it, but because their brain was still working on the problem while they were distracted.

The key takeaway from this chapter is that stepping away from a difficult problem isn’t a waste of time—it’s part of the solution. Our brains need breaks to rearrange information and make unexpected connections.

So next time you’re stuck, don’t force yourself to keep grinding. Go for a walk, listen to music, or even scroll through social media for a few minutes. You might find that the answer comes to you when you least expect it.

Chapter 7 – Quitting Before You’re Ahead: The Accumulating Gifts of Percolation

We often think that the best way to finish a big project is to push through until it’s done. But in this chapter, Benedict Carey introduces a counterintuitive idea: sometimes, stopping before you’re ready can actually make you more productive in the long run.

The key idea here is percolation—the process of letting ideas develop in the background while you’re not actively working on them. Carey compares it to an “extended-release” version of incubation. While short breaks help with quick insights, percolation is about stepping away for longer periods and letting your brain continue working on a problem unconsciously. Instead of forcing a solution, you plant the seed and give it time to grow.

This idea isn’t new. Carey looks at how creative people have used percolation for centuries. He shares a letter attributed to Mozart, where the composer describes how his musical ideas form almost fully developed in his mind before he even writes them down. But for most people, it doesn’t happen quite that magically.

Joseph Heller, the author of Catch-22, described getting his best ideas not while writing but during mundane activities—walking the dog, brushing his teeth, or riding the bus. These moments, when his mind was relaxed, allowed thoughts to come together in ways they wouldn’t have if he had forced himself to keep writing.

Psychologists have studied this effect for decades. One of the most famous findings comes from Bluma Zeigarnik, a Soviet psychologist who discovered what is now called the Zeigarnik Effect. She found that people tend to remember unfinished tasks better than completed ones. In her experiments, participants who were interrupted before finishing a task were more likely to recall details about it later. This explains why stopping in the middle of a project—rather than at a natural breaking point—can actually keep it more active in your mind.

Carey points out that percolation isn’t just useful for creative work. It’s also a powerful tool for learning and problem-solving. When you stop working on something before you’re done, your brain continues processing it in the background. This means that when you return, you often have fresh insights and a clearer perspective.

A practical takeaway from this chapter is to start big projects early and deliberately leave them unfinished. Instead of waiting until you have time to do everything at once, begin working on a tough assignment, research paper, or presentation—even if it’s just a rough outline. Then walk away. By letting it sit, you allow your brain to keep processing, making the work feel more manageable when you return.

So, rather than seeing procrastination as an enemy, Carey suggests reframing it as a strategic tool. When used wisely, stopping before you’re ahead can actually help you finish stronger.

Chapter 8 – Being Mixed Up: Interleaving as an Aid to Comprehension

We’ve all heard that practice makes perfect, but what if the way we practice is actually holding us back? In this chapter, Benedict Carey challenges the traditional idea of mastering one skill at a time. Instead, he argues that mixing up different types of practice—something called interleaving—can dramatically improve learning and comprehension.

Carey starts by describing a common learning experience. When we focus on one thing at a time—whether it’s a musical scale, a basketball shot, or a math formula—we tend to see quick improvement. This feels good, so we assume we’re learning effectively. But over time, that kind of focused practice actually limits our ability to apply what we’ve learned in real-world situations.

The author explains that interleaving is a different approach: instead of practicing one skill repeatedly, you mix different skills together in a single session. For example, a baseball player might alternate between different types of pitches, or a student studying math might switch between different types of problems instead of mastering one before moving on to the next. This method may feel messier and more frustrating at first, but research shows that it leads to deeper learning and better long-term retention.

Carey highlights studies where students were given different learning approaches. One group practiced math problems in a traditional, blocked format—solving one type of problem over and over before moving on to another. The other group used interleaving, switching between problem types throughout their study session.

At first, the blocked group performed better. But when tested later, the interleaving group outperformed them significantly. Why? Because switching between problems forced them to recognize patterns and develop deeper problem-solving skills rather than just memorizing procedures.

The chapter also explores how interleaving helps in real-world learning. Artists, for example, can train their ability to distinguish different styles by studying various works at the same time, rather than focusing on just one artist. Similarly, musicians who practice a mix of songs and techniques develop greater adaptability and creativity than those who stick to rigid drills.

One of the biggest takeaways from this chapter is that learning should be challenging. When something feels easy, it’s often because we’re just reinforcing short-term memory. Interleaving forces the brain to work harder, building stronger connections and improving recall when it really matters.

So, how can we apply this? Instead of repeating the same skill over and over, try mixing things up. If you’re studying, shuffle through different types of questions. If you’re practicing a sport, alternate techniques. It might feel frustrating at first, but embracing the struggle leads to real learning.

Chapter 9 – Learning Without Thinking: Harnessing Perceptual Discrimination

We usually think of learning as an active, conscious effort—memorizing facts, practicing skills, or solving problems. But in this chapter, Benedict Carey introduces a fascinating idea: some of the most powerful learning happens when we aren’t even aware of it.

The key concept here is perceptual learning, which is the ability to recognize patterns, differences, and important details without deliberate thought. This kind of learning happens when we expose ourselves to information repeatedly, allowing our brains to pick up on subtle cues and distinctions without needing to consciously process them.

Carey shares a compelling example from sports: baseball players facing fastballs. A good hitter doesn’t consciously calculate the ball’s speed, angle, or spin—they just “see” it and react. The same principle applies to chess masters who recognize board patterns instantly or musicians who can hear and reproduce a melody after only a few notes. These abilities come from deep exposure and practice, not deliberate analysis.

One of the most interesting studies in this chapter involved people learning to distinguish between different styles of art. Instead of memorizing facts about painters, they were simply shown dozens of paintings. Over time, they got better at identifying the artist—without even realizing how. This proves that our brains are wired to absorb patterns subconsciously when given enough exposure.

This concept also applies to language learning. Young children don’t learn grammar by studying rules—they absorb patterns by hearing words in context. Similarly, adults learning a new language can benefit from immersion, where they surround themselves with the language rather than memorizing vocabulary lists.

Carey argues that we should trust the brain’s natural ability to learn through exposure. Instead of forcing ourselves to break down every detail, we can sometimes improve just by increasing our time with the material. Whether it’s listening to a foreign language, reading complex texts, or even practicing a new skill, just being around it matters more than we think.

The takeaway from this chapter is that learning doesn’t always require conscious effort. By exposing ourselves to different environments, experiences, and patterns, we allow our brains to process information in the background. So, next time you want to get better at something, don’t just focus—immerse yourself, and let your brain do the work.

Chapter 10 – You Snooze, You Win: The Consolidating Role of Sleep

Sleep often feels like lost time—hours we could be using to study, work, or get things done. But in this chapter, Benedict Carey makes a compelling argument: sleep isn’t just rest—it’s an active part of learning.

The chapter starts with a powerful idea: we’ve all had those moments when we wake up in the middle of the night with a sudden realization, whether it’s where we left our keys or the solution to a problem that stumped us earlier. This isn’t just coincidence—our brains actually continue working on problems while we sleep, making connections that we might not have seen while awake.

Carey introduces fascinating stories from history to illustrate this. One of the most famous is Friedrich August Kekulé’s dream of snakes biting their tails, which led him to discover the ring structure of the benzene molecule. Another is Dmitri Mendeleev, who struggled for days to organize the periodic table—until he fell asleep and dreamed of the perfect arrangement. These stories suggest that sleep plays a crucial role in creativity and problem-solving.

The science behind this is even more interesting. Researchers have found that different stages of sleep help process different types of learning. For example, deep sleep (which happens earlier in the night) helps store facts and information, making it useful for things like memorizing vocabulary or historical dates. Meanwhile, REM sleep (which happens later in the night) helps with creativity, problem-solving, and making connections between ideas. This means that the common advice to “sleep on it” before making a decision isn’t just folklore—it’s backed by neuroscience.

Carey also discusses napping as a powerful tool for learning. Studies show that even a short nap of 60 to 90 minutes can boost memory and problem-solving ability. In fact, some researchers argue that a well-timed nap can provide almost the same benefits as a full night’s sleep when it comes to consolidating new knowledge.

The biggest takeaway from this chapter? If you want to learn better, don’t sacrifice sleep—use it as part of your learning strategy. Instead of pulling all-nighters, it’s smarter to plan study sessions around sleep cycles, allowing the brain to reinforce what’s been learned. And if you’re facing a tough problem, sometimes the best thing you can do is step away, sleep on it, and let your brain do the work overnight.

Conclusion Chapter – The Foraging Brain

Benedict Carey wraps up the book by challenging everything we thought we knew about learning. He argues that our traditional ideas about education and learning are not just flawed, but often completely wrong. We assume that focus, discipline, and structured study are the only paths to success, but in reality, the way our brains evolved to learn is far more chaotic—and far more effective—than we realize.

Carey suggests that our understanding of learning is limited by the way modern education is structured. Schools and universities divide learning into subjects, assign study schedules, and insist on strict concentration. But the brain didn’t evolve in a classroom—it evolved in the wild. For most of human history, learning wasn’t about memorizing facts for a test; it was about survival. Our ancestors had to constantly adapt to new environments, recognize patterns, and learn from experience—all without textbooks or structured lessons.

This brings us to Carey’s central metaphor: the brain as a forager. Just as early humans had to explore their surroundings to find food, our brains are wired to wander, take in new information from different sources, and make unexpected connections. We learn best when we explore, experiment, and engage with the world in a natural way.

One of the most thought-provoking ideas in this chapter is that distraction isn’t always bad. Carey argues that what we consider “distractions”—random thoughts, switching tasks, stepping away from a problem—might actually be part of how our brains naturally process and absorb information. Instead of fighting this tendency, he suggests that we should embrace the way our brains really work.

So, what does this mean for us? It means that learning isn’t just about sitting still and concentrating—it’s about mixing things up, taking breaks, testing ourselves, and trusting that our brains are doing more in the background than we realize. It means we should be less rigid with our study habits and more open to experimentation.

In the end, Carey’s message is clear: we need to rethink how we learn. Instead of forcing ourselves to follow outdated study methods, we should work with our brains, not against them. The best learning happens when we let our minds explore—just like the foragers we once were.

The book challenges the idea of multitasking and its negative impact on learning and focus. Instead of dividing attention among tasks, it suggests focused study sessions free from distractions. By fully immersing oneself in the learning process, individuals can optimize cognitive resources for better results.

Another notable aspect of “How We Learn” is its relevance to a wide range of audiences including students, teachers, professionals, and those interested in understanding how the brain functions. It provides valuable insights for everyone regardless of their background or interests.

The insights presented in this book are not limited by time or technology, making “How We Learn” a timeless resource for continuous learners seeking knowledge throughout their lives.

4 Key Ideas From How We Learn

6 Main Lessons From How We Learn

My Book Highlights & Quotes

The act of guessing engaged your mind in a different and more demanding waythan straight memorization did, deepening the imprint of the correct answers. In even plainer English, the pretest drove home the information in a way that studying as usual did not.

Once a goal becomes activated, it trumps all others and begins to drive our perceptions, ourthoughts, our attitudes.

Conclusion

To wrap it up, How We Learn is definitely a must-read if you want to understand how learning actually works.

The book gives you simple, actionable ideas that can help you learn better, no matter what you’re working on or trying to improve. It really helped me realize how much more I can do with the right strategies.

If you’re looking to get more out of your learning, this book has everything you need to unlock your brain’s full potential and make the process a lot more effective.

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