A perfect day for Malcolm Gladwell is one in which he does not say a word to anyone until after dinner. He wants his writing to appeal to a precocious 12-year-old. His Twitter bio is simply, "Skinny Canadian."
This is Malcolm Gladwell, the best-selling author of works such as The Tipping Point and Blink, we're talking about. He is a national icon. He appears on CNN often, is name-dropped in hip-hop songs (most notably "Ten Thousand Hours" by Macklemore) and is possibly the wealthiest writer in America. But you wouldn't know that by talking to him.
Gladwell visited UB Wednesday. He spoke at an informal session in the Center For the Arts with students during the afternoon, and he addressed Alumni Arena as UB's third Distinguished Speaker at night - but in between those two events, he did something unusual. He took the time to sit down with two Spectrum reporters.
At the informal session, before getting spruced up for his speech, Gladwell sported grey-and-black Nikes (their long shoelaces hit the floor), a baby-blue button-down (untucked) and stone-blue jeans (lightwash). The look was complete with his curly 'fro and round glasses. The eccentricity of his appearance matches that of his thoughts.
I wish I had the tact to sum up all I learned from listening to Gladwell throughout Wednesday. Where could I possibly begin? Thankfully, he has written much about the theory that disadvantages can become advantages - for example, he posits that a child growing up with dyslexia can turn that into an advantage, as he or she will develop resiliency and work ethic at a young age.
In this case, my disadvantage is indeed an advantage - everything Gladwell said is so extraordinary, so truly riveting, that I cannot possibly address it all. But that is, inherently, an advantage: It guarantees any article about him will be interesting.
So let's get to it.
If you're a college student who feels lost, do not panic. I opened our interview asking about the fact that Gladwell has said his undergraduate experience at the University of Toronto was "not an intellectually fruitful time." That's right - Malcolm Gladwell struggled in college, too. His advice for students today? Take advantage of the uncertainty surrounding the job market and slow down.
Take your time. Indulge your curiosity.
"I think that people are too quick to try to figure out what they ought to be doing with the rest of their lives," he said. "My great regret when I look back on my college years is that there were all kinds of things I was interested in but didn't pursue because I was in too much of a hurry. Or I falsely assumed I wasn't interested. All the stuff I have gotten interested in over the course of my career is stuff I have learned since graduating."
He wishes he had studied psychology and statistics, but he didn't take one class in either topic. If you've read Gladwell's work, you understand how ludicrous that is. Part of what makes him great is his broad spectrum of knowledge. He is essentially a historicist, psychologist, sociologist, scientist and philosopher rolled into a terrific writer.
But what makes him truly great is his skill of communicating illustrious thoughts and ideas and concepts to everyone - even a 12-year-old.
Gladwell is one of the leading intellectuals alive, but in person, he comes off as an average guy with awesome hair. He works most days out of his favorite coffee shop in New York City, and patrons rarely approach him or ask for photos. "The people there are over me," he said.
The one thing that struck me most about him was not only his willingness to chat with two college students, but his interest in our discussion. You know how you can tell when someone is really listening to what you're saying? He was engaged. He maintained eye contact and was genuinely interested in offering advice and answering questions.
This is made more impressive by Gladwell's admitted extreme introversion. That doesn't mean he's shy, or that he finds public speaking terrifying, or that encounters with people are cumbersome for him. It means he finds interactions with people draining. Whereas talking to others invigorates a classic extrovert like Bill Clinton, a classic introvert like Gladwell feels his figurative energy battery draining when he is engaged in conversation.
With that in mind, it makes more sense why he'd rather not talk to people for most of the day. It's not that he doesn't like talking to people (in fact, he says, "I can do it, and I'm happy to, but I can't do it for that long"), but it makes him tired - which is why it's ironic that he has made his living communicating.
Many of Gladwell's books are self-help without being self-help; they better the reader by sharing stories of extraordinary others. But that doesn't mean he is a fluffy writer. No topic intimidates him (perhaps that tenacity comes from his 10 years reporting for The Washington Post).
Much has been made of Gladwell's opposition to college football. Though arguably his most famous speech on the matter, at the University of Pennsylvania, discussed how Ivy League schools need to start the movement of removing their football programs, he does not believe any school - including UB - should have a team.
"The case in 2013 for football to be part of the educational mandate of a school is really weak," he said. "It's not clear to me, particularly when you consider the damage to the health of the players, a school should not be doing anything that damages the health of its students. That's really obvious, particularly when you're not paying them. That's even more obvious. In some cases, football programs make a lot of money for the schools; in most cases they don't ... You come here to get an education. You don't come here to hit someone else on the head."
I found it odd when Gladwell said he spends most of his day watching football. Turns out he loves the sport. He does not, however, believe it belongs on a college campus. He states that a minor-league system, similar to that of baseball, would make more sense.
He will go on television and express these thoughts, and he will do interviews, and he will write pieces for The New Yorker. But Gladwell doesn't think he's some revolutionist or genius.
"I don't have any grand ideas that will save the world," he said. That has been a criticism of his writing: That it is too simplistic. Perhaps he doesn't have ideas to save the world, but he does have a grand way of explaining ideas.
You can almost see Gladwell's brain working as he speaks. He has a methodical approach to explanations - a skill he has possessed since he demanded he be the one to elucidate board-game rules to his friends at age 10 - and a personal story to make almost everything understandable.
He has so far surpassed the level of an average reporter that it is easy to forget that Gladwell has been a journalist his whole career. And he weighed in on the change going on in the industry.
"Journalism is in this weird position right now," he said. "The need for journalism has never been greater. So, what is our job as journalists? Our job is to translate the world for the public, the general public. So as the world gets more complicated, translators get more and more important."
He prides himself on taking complicated matters and making them clear for his audience - dumbing them down to a level a precocious 12-year-old can understand. In that sense, he is a translator.
But just as he is not simply a journalist, Gladwell is not simply a translator. A translator, by its definition, must speak multiple languages, and Gladwell speaks many. He does not, however, merely speak languages; he invents new ones.
He is, truthfully, one of the most brilliant people alive today. And yet he never saw his fame coming.
"No one's more surprised than me," he said. "I had no clue. I was a newspaper writer. I was anonymous. I was quite happy. I was as stunned as anyone else."
I have been fortunate to interview many interesting people as a young reporter. I can't say anyone has ever impressed me as much as Malcolm Gladwell. I'm thankful to have caught him right after dinner.
email: aaron.mansfield@ubspectrum.com
