Canadian author Malcolm Gladwell has built a reputation upon his ability to find the extraordinary where others find banality. After penning seven New York Times Best Sellers, publishing countless articles across The New Yorker and The Washington Post, and founding the production company Pushkin Industries — which hosts his enormously popular podcast, Revisionist History — Gladwell hasn’t just tapped into the cultural zeitgeist. Rather, his work has helped define it.
It’s been nearly 25 years since his first book, The Tipping Point, theorized how an idea, trend, or social behaviour could cross a threshold, tip, and spread like wildfire. But in typical Gladwellian fashion, his curiosity has brought him back to challenge the very theories that first ignited his career.
This fall, Gladwell is introducing his latest work, Revenge of the Tipping Point, where he traces the rise of a new and troubling form of social engineering. A lot has changed since his first book; he’s started a family, mourned the loss of his father, and witnessed society change in ways he never could have foreseen 25 years ago. Ahead of what he calls “his most personal book yet,” Gladwell reveals why he felt the need to revisit his previous theories, how he develops his relentless curiosity, and his keys to becoming an expert interviewer.
“Where other people might notice a pattern and say, ‘Oh, that’s interesting,” I think our job is to ask, “Is that a story?’ These patterns and oddities in life aren’t just interesting to us. They’re the raw materials of our work.”
Malcolm Gladwell
By now, The Tipping Point has transcended the book itself and made its way into mainstream vernacular. Have you grown more comfortable with the fact that your theories will spread outside the context of your work?
When I did that audiobook [Miracle and Wonder] with Paul Simon, I asked for his thoughts on people’s interpretations of his songs. His philosophy was that you have to give people the freedom to listen to the music as they wish to listen to it and draw the conclusions they wish to draw. That’s really good advice. You know, people might take the “10,000-hour” rule out of context, or, like you said, The Tipping Point becomes as much a phrase as it is a book to some people. Sure, it changes the work to some degree. But at the same time, they’re trying to bring their own experiences to it. I try to introduce new ways of looking at the world and our social behaviour. But I can’t control, nor would I want to control, the meaning people extract from my work.
That’s very reminiscent of how your Pushkin Industries colleague, Rick Rubin, approaches creativity; let the audience alchemize it into something new.
Yes, exactly. It’s a very “Rick” idea. Rick has a very Zen-like approach to his work. For me, it’s quite admirable. That’s how I like to think of sharing ideas.
After nearly 25 years, why revisit The Tipping Point? Was there a particular moment that made reframing your previous ideas so necessary?
I think it was the story that begins and ends the book surrounding the opioid crisis. It seemed like everything about that crisis embodied both the deliberate and inadvertent use of the “tipping point” principles to create and perpetuate an epidemic. Of course, the crisis began 25 years ago, but we would have never analyzed or critiqued a drug company’s behaviour back then in the way we do today. It highlights our skepticism and our ability to be more critical of higher institutions. I think that was an important societal shift to address.
You’re approaching these questions at such a different time than your first book, but also as such a different writer. What were the unique challenges that arose in Revenge of the Tipping Point?
It was really quite mixed, actually. In some ways, it was a lot simpler, especially in terms of reporting. It’s a lot easier to get people to call me back than it was 20 years ago. That comes with a reputation, and the degree to which that helps with reporting can’t be understated. But, at the same time, there was also a challenge in referencing and being in conversation with a book that also has its own reputation. With Talking to Strangers, for instance, I was starting from scratch with a new idea. It was a nice clean slate. But this was the first time I’ve ever written a book where I was wrestling with work I had already done, which was quite challenging.
The Tipping Point really made my reputation, in some ways, and now it feels necessary to update it for the world we’re in today. But I have to work within the theoretical structure of the original work. From a structural standpoint, it was an interesting challenge that I’ve never had to deal with before.
“At the end of a good interview, you should be exhausted. You can’t be listening superficially; your job as a writer is to understand what people mean, not what they say.”
Malcolm Gladwell
Are there other works — books, podcast series, articles — that this made you want to revisit?
I like the idea. I thought it was really fun and interesting to explicitly revisit and, in some ways, challenge something I did a quarter-century ago. Initially, I wanted to do a simple revision. But I realized quickly that I was not nearly the same person as I was 25 years ago. The world was not nearly the same. Of course, it turned into a much more complex project, one that also became quite personal. So, yes, I think it’s something I’d consider exploring again, maybe not just with my own work, but other works that surround societal behaviour that feel so resonant but need to be looked through a modern lens.
So much of your work — whether it’s The Tipping Point, David & Goliath, Blink, or this latest book — is predicated on your ability to scan the world for curiosities that the rest of us have overlooked. Is that a mode you get in when preparing for research or are you automatically attuned to it, the way a painter might see the world in a painterly way?
I think I’ve always been inescapably curious that way. But I suppose that’s the writer’s job, generally. Where other people might notice a pattern and say, “Oh, that’s interesting,” I think our job is to ask, “Is that a story?” These patterns and oddities in life aren’t just interesting to us. They’re the raw materials of our work. At this point, I’ve been doing it for 40 years, so I find those raw materials just seep in. But it also comes with practice. I try to read intently, watch intently, be present. Being a writer, in many ways, is being active in the world.
Part of the curiosity that drives your work comes in your interviewing, which is at the core of both your writing and Revisionist History. From 40 years of experience, what are the most critical traits in being an exceptional interviewer?
It’s funny you mentioned this because, for the longest time — for most of my career — I do not think I was a good interviewer. But I’ve gotten better. A large part of that is because of the podcast, like you said. The volume of interviews for it is so extensive. So, I suppose my tip would be intensive practice.
More importantly, I’ve learned so much of it has to do with deep listening. At the end of a good interview, you should be exhausted. You can’t be listening superficially; your job as a writer is to understand what people mean, not what they say. And then, you’re also there to assist your subject in telling your story. You’re a partner with them. So, it takes a lot of work. But if you do a good job, you’ll know it, because you’ll be exhausted.
Revenge of the Tipping Point is now available.
The post Canadian Author Malcolm Gladwell Gets Revenge on ‘The Tipping Point’ appeared first on Sharp Magazine.
