In the developed countries, people’s desire for silence has become a topic of great interests, but they cannot find it at this moment. People can get distracted from the roaring traffic, the endless beep of phones, buses and trains announcements, or TV loud noise so easily even in empty offices. People are getting exhausted themselves with noise and want the opposite—either in forest, on the sea or in some quiet getaway to find quietness and become more concentrated. The history professor Alain Corbin enjoys writing when he makes his getaway in Sorbonne. The Norwegian explorer Erling Kagge enjoys his writing when he makes his getaway in the wastes of Antarctica, the best of his memories.

However, Mr. Corbin wrote in “A History of Silence”, probably there is only a few noise than there used to be. Before tires were made, city streets were full of noise of metal wheels and horseshoes on stone road. Before voluntary isolation using the smartphones, passengers talk a lot on buses and trains. Newspaper-sellers shouted out for sales at top volume instead of simply leaving their products at the newspaper stand, so did the cherries, violets and fresh mackerel vendors. People used to give a thumbs-up or thumbs-down at the theater and the opera. Farmers sang as they did their labor works in the countryside. They don’t sing today.

The level of noise does not change a lot since people also complained about it centuries ago. It is the level of distraction that has changed and occupies the space that silence might interrupt. It looks like a paradox because when it does interrupt—in a deep pine forest, in the naked desert, in an empty room where people suddenly left—it proves that this can make people feel uneasy rather than welcome. People become aware of fears; their ears will fasten on anything, whether it’s a fire sound or bird call or leaves sound, that will save them from feelings of emptiness came from nowhere. People want silence maybe not so much.

One of the biggest problems that rich countries have today, is that people need peace and quiet but cannot find any. The noise of traffic, the constant beep of phones, electronic systems for public address in buses and trains, TV sets playing loudly in empty offices, are endless nuisance and disturbance. People are tired from noise and wish for its opposite—be it in the wilderness, on the open sea or in some lonely place where they can just sit and meditate. Alain Corbin, a history professor, writes from his quiet spot in the Sorbonne, and Erling Kagge, a Norwegian adventurer, from his memories of the wastes of Antarctica, where they both tried to run away.

However, in "A History of Silence", Mr Corbin points out that today there is not much more noise than in the past. Before rubber tires, city streets were full of the loud clang of metal wheels and horseshoes on stone. Before mobile phones charmed us, buses and trains rang with conversation. Newspaper-sellers did not just stand by their piles of wares, but shouted about them at the top of their lungs, and so did the sellers of cherries, violets and fish. The theater and the opera were a chaos of cheering and booing. Even in the countryside, peasants sang while they were toiling. They don’t sing now.

It is not the amount of noise that has changed (it has always bothered people) it is the amount of bothering, which fills the space of possible peace and quiet. There is another strange thing: when we happen to find peace and quiet—deep in the woods, in the naked desert, in a room where we are suddenly left alone—we often feel discomfort rather than relief. Goose bumps rise; the ear by instinct catches every sound, be it fire-hiss or bird call or leaves rustle, in order to fill the spooky emptiness. People want silence, but not that much.

People mostly in the developed world yearn for silence and can't find it. Their consciousness is invaded 24/7 by noise from phones, informationals, blaring screens often in empty rooms. Humans are drowning in noise and gulp for silence searching it in the barren expanse, in the vast sea, in the "Ohmmm" of concentration and introspection. Two people write about fleeing from noise, each from his refuge to noise, write about their noise escape experiences, Alain Corbin from the Sobonne and Erling Kagge, Norwegian explorer from memory of his Antarctica trips.

There is no more noise than is has been Mr. Corbin writes in "A History of Silence." Tires quieted the noise from hard wheels and horseshoes, conversations from one end-to-the other have submerged in hand-held devices in public transportation. Newspaper boys and girls outshouted each other trying to peddle their tabloids, so dis other vendors. You went to the movies and theater to see who could out whistle or yell another. . The harder they worked the louder they sang. Not any more.

How much noise has not changed over time; what has is distraction. Distraction competes with silence for our attention. It is perplexing that when there is silence, we freak out instead of embracing it. Think of being in the middle of a jungle or forest a vast deseert or a suddenly empty room; you get nervous and your ear desperately seeks noise: a bird chrping, a fan running, she rustling of leaves; something to take away this nothingness. Silence is golden but only in little peaces.