Last night in Barnes & Noble I picked up a copy of Malcolm Gladwell's new book--Outliers: The Story of Success. I skimmed the jacket flap, read the first page, and bought it on the spot, even though I don't have any money. I enjoyed The Tipping Point and Blink, not for their scientific revolutions, but because they entertained me. And, when I read Gladwell's books, I tend to think deeply about the questions he is asking.
In Outliers, Gladwell is tackling, among other things, the narrative of success in twenty-first century America. He takes issue with the usual praise of individuals, the Horatio Alger myths of our culture, the rags-to-riches stories. He sums up the problem eloquently in the introduction.
"The tallest oak tree in the forest is the tallest not just because it grew from the hardiest acorn," Malcolm Gladwell writes. "It is the tallest also because no other trees blocked its sunlight, the soil around it was deep and rich, no rabbit chewed through its bark as a sapling, and no lumberjack cut it down before it matured. We all know that successful people come from hardy seeds. But do we know enough about the sunlight that warmed them, the soil in which they put down their roots, and the rabbits and lumberjacks they were lucky enough to avoid?"
Gladwell's ability to succinctly state complex problems is one of the greatest strengths--and the greatest weaknesses--of his books.
Today I heard lots of criticism of Malcolm Gladwell--chiefly, say, that his work is "pop science." The comment, delivered with certainty and condescension, assumes intrinsically that the books, being pop science, have no worth. But this withering dismissal is both unfair and harmful in the long term. Also it misses the point of Gladwell's writing entirely. First, let's look at why Gladwell's writing might be called pop science.
We can safely assume, I am confident, that the three-letter-word "pop" is a euphemism for "sub"--as in "sub-science" or "substandard science." Gladwell's writing is concerned with anecdotes and people. His conclusions are sketchy and broad, not to mention, in some cases, potentially flawed. And he is a terrific writer, which makes the prose fluid, and reading Outliers (or The Tipping Point or Blink) is like drinking a glass of water. When you read something so well written, it is hard to trust the author--I find this just as much when reading John Gardner or Leo Tolstoy. So we need to read critically (be on your guard) and help the author, in some places, by supplying experiences he may not have heard about.
The smooth prose draws attention to the implied author, Malcolm Gladwell's "refined and distilled spirit," who moves through the work at all times, even when the author is not referencing himself directly with an "I" character. This ghost, in Outliers: The Story of Success, is more confident in this book than in the previous two. More aggressive, too, I might add. Such a tone might turn off favorable reviewers.
So we have the combined problems of a terrific writer and an aggressive--some might say arrogant, but I wouldn't go that far--implied author. Part of this, I think, is due to the aggressive marketing of Gladwell's work as "revolution-causing." That's a lot of pressure to put on the author every time out of the gate. And, as Ben Franklin pointed out, people are put off by those who speak in certainties. "I found people more amicable to my ideas," Franklin said, "when I say, 'Yes, I understand where you are coming from, but I have also observed that the opposite is true. Please, let me explain what I noticed.'"
I'm paraphrasing, but Franklin's point is this: Telling people an absolute gets them defensive, gets their backs up, and makes it difficult to convince them when the ability to work together is the most important. To this end, I would suggest the subtitle be changed to Outliers: Stories of Success. Nobody, after all, likes a know-it-all, and the "the" of the subtitle is a little off-putting.
But let's return to the problem of "pop science." The fact is Malcolm Gladwell's Outliers can't be pop science--because, when you look closely, you notice it isn't science at all. It's journalism, pure and simple, an extended magazine article.
Gladwell is a staff writer at The New Yorker. His chief business is letters and words and putting them in order. After that, his business is people, not science. His books deal in anecdotes because he's a writer who is interested in people, how they live practically, and so on.
Now writing and science are often powered by the same engines. Gladwell also worked, I believe, as a business and science reporter at the Washington Post. So his curiousity about I.Q. tests, coal mining, psychology, and sociology are natural and fine--many writers no doubt share his interests. But to call Malcolm Gladwell a scientist is going too far.
As far as I can find, Mr. Gladwell never professed to be a scientist. He's a writer.
Most of what Gladwell says in Outliers, too, isn't revolutionary. Lots of it--like that Bill Gates and the Beatles both had to practice 10,000 hours before they broke out--has been noted before. If it hadn't, we wouldn't have sayings like "Practice makes perfect."
The merit in Outliers is that it presents these arguments in fresh ways. It refocuses our attention to rules we knew--such as that no one, not even a genius, can make it alone--and tells us the story in a new and entertaining and exciting way. Dismissing all the hard work in Outliers also is harmful because the saying "pop science," as I mentioned before, assumes that the work has no merit--obviously false. Still, before you know it, everyone is saying "pop science" like they're a bunch of parrots unable to speak for themselves.
In fact, Outliers has quite a bit to offer. Mostly it is thought-provoking, entertaining, and exceedingly well written. I would recommend it to anyone interested in success.
This year in Anaheim at the American Library Association (ALA) convention, among several worthy titles, I picked up a copy of The Given Day by Dennis Lehane. 
