Outliers by Malcolm Gladwell (non-fiction, 7.0 out of 10)

For a guilty non-fiction fix, I'm an admitted fan of books in the currently fashionable genre of popular economics and social phenomena. Stuff like Freakonomics by Levitt and Dubner, The Undercover Economist by Harford, MoneyBall and The Blind Side by Lewis, and, of course, Malcolm Gladwell’s informative triumvirate, The Tipping Point, Blink and Outliers.

Having previously enjoyed The Tipping Point and Blink, I knew what to expect from Gladwell's most recent foray, Outliers. His gimmick is pointed research into well-known or everyday subject matters to find hidden patterns and meaning that carry over to his larger thesis. In Outliers, he examines why some people, which he calls outliers, become highly successful in their field – people like Bill Gates, the Beatles, professional hockey players, Robert Oppenheimer and (gasp) the author himself. Gladwell contends that success is as much a product of the opportunities that present themselves to an individual as it is of the individual’s talents and efforts.

You may be thinking that doesn’t sound like a groundbreaking theory. Worse, if you read his critics, you’ll see that many contend that Gladwell’s methodologies are derivative and unscientific. Outliers also suffers from a bit of unevenness – as with The Tipping Point and Blink, Gladwell leads with his best stuff and by the end of the book he seems to be rehashing the same themes with inferior data and less interesting case studies (basically writing about himself for the book's final act). I would suggest ignoring all that and reading it anyway if you’re inclined to popular non-fiction at all.

The joy of Outliers is in the depth with which Gladwell explores his case studies, shedding light on the stories behind the stories we know. Did you know that the Beatles became the Beatles by taking advantage of the opportunity to play countless hours of music in front of live audiences in Hamburg’s red light district? Or that a disproportionate number of professional hockey players are born in January, February and March? Equally important as these factual discoveries are the analytical building blocks employed by Gladwell – ideas (not necessarily his own) like The Matthew Effect and the 10,000 Hour Rule, which resonate beyond the covers of Outliers. Outliers entertains, educates and, most importantly, makes one think about their own successes, under-utilized talents and what might have been.

The Perfect Mile (Neal Bascomb) (8.5/10.0)

What do we all think about audio books? It’s a topic that receives a great deal of treatment out there in the book-review blogdom. And I’ll freely admit that I’m never quite sure about my own feelings on the matter. Is it possible to “read” a work of literature by listening? Or, more importantly, is the enjoyment that you receive from listening to an audio book equal to the enjoyment that you receive from actually reading that same book? I raise the issue because I recently listened to the The Perfect Mile on audio book (which can be found here). Moreover, I listened to it while running, and I truly believe that I got much more enjoyment from it in that medium than I would have by reading it in print. The same tends to hold true for me for my guilty pleasures, science fiction (Orson Scott Card) and action/adventure books (Clive Cussler, Robert Ludlum). I'm still a classics guy at heart, but I like to mix it up every now and then. But to the point: as a rule, I believe that a true work of literature (classic or modern) should be read and that listening to such a work deprives the listener of the true force of the tale. What do you believe?

Now what was I doing before I got so philosophical? Ah yes, reviewing a book ... that’s right. The Perfect Mile is the fast-paced (pun completely intended) story of three men from three continents that all chased the impossible dream of breaking the four-minute mile in the 1950’s. Roger Bannister, an English medical student, treated running as science and a hobby (his first priority being medicine); Australian John Landy trained longer and harder than anyone before or since; and American Wes Santee was a natural athlete who rose to prominence out of a brutal childhood and first proposed that he would break the four-minute mile. Bascomb’s treatment of the three is properly measured, providing enough background for the reader (listener) to identify with each (though Landy inevitably becomes the reader’s favorite) and presenting each race during the period 1952 to 1954 as a seat-edge sitting, nail-biting competition that inevitably comes down to the wire. And so, after numerous battles on the cinder track at competitions held around the world, the four-minute mile was finally broken by ... No, I can’t do that, but if you’re really interested a simple Google search will give you the winner.

If you run or work out at the gym or do work around the house or do just about anything that will enable you to wear a pair of headphones or ear buds, I urge you to check out this inspiring story (in audio format) that, at bottom, shows that human belief and perseverance can overcome any obstacle. Not that I’m running any four-minute miles, mind you, but it did inspire me to get out and run, and that’s worth something.

The Second World War (Six-Volume Set) (Winston S. Churchill) (9.4/10)

Now this is a man’s work, and for more reasons than one. In six long and annotated volumes, Prime Minister Winston S. Churchill holds the reader’s attention masterfully through the years of blind pacificism and the rise of the Nazi menace in Germany (The Gathering Storm) through the blitzkrieg campaigns that brought all of Europe, and very nearly England, to its knees (Their Finest Hour) to the reluctant entrance of both Soviet Russia and the United States into the war (The Grand Alliance) and the gradual turning of the tide as the massive capabilities of all three were harnessed to overcome German war production (The Hinge of Fate) to the storming of the European continent and the discovery of German concentration camps (Triumph and Tragedy) to final victory over Nazi Germany by traditional warfare and imperial Japan by the reluctant use of atomic weapons (Closing the Ring).

Please understand, I am not generally a fan of military history or of war tales in general. And I am certainly not a fan of all of Churchill’s works (his four-volume work, A History of the English Speaking Peoples, has me begging for release only halfway through volume two). But this is quite simply the greatest story of the twentieth century, and this set of six volumes records the events through the eyes and ears and hands of one of its primary architects. Churchill is a fantastic storyteller here, though he does have a weakness for prolonged and verbose defense of his decisions in the moment. Nevertheless, the urgency of actual events moves the story along at a comfortable pace, and Churchill generously excerpts from his own correspondence and the archives of the British government’s to tell the tale.

Especially interesting is the tremendous correspondence that passed and the friendship that developed between Churchill and Franklin Roosevelt before America’s entrance into World War II. Even as the population of Great Britain was huddled underground in subway stations during the Battle of Britain, Churchill had faith that reason and right would win out in the hearts of the American people and he repeatedly expressed that faith to Roosevelt, while also pleading for increased military support under the Lend-Lease Act of 1941. Equally engaging is Churchill’s hot and cold relationship with Joseph Stalin, whom Churchill variously considered his closest ally and, by the end of the war, the embodiment of evil upon the earth. But the facts don’t lie, even in Churchill’s hands, and there can be no doubt that England and America would have very likely lost the war to the Axis powers if the Great Bear had not made its timely entrance and proceeded to sacrifice the greater share of its manhood for victory.

The Second World War is not for the feint-hearted. The reading of it is an enormous project to undertake. But the rewards are tangible not only in the beautiful prose which graces its pages, but also in the significance of the events that it relates. Overall, it is simply one of my favorite works.

The Conquest of New Spain (Bernal Diaz del Castillo) (7.5/10)

Bernal Diaz del Castillo, a captain under the command of the conquistador, Hernan Cortez, presents a straightforward, if less than poetic, chronology of his adventures in the New World. Diaz was party to two failed expeditions from the Spanish beachhead on the island of Cuba to the Yucatan prior to the attempt of Cortez, and each was soundly defeated by Maya warriors at Cozumel and Champoton, respectively. Then, in March of 1519, Cortez mounted a larger expedition intending to establish trade with the Maya and perhaps establish a permanent settlement for Spain. Ambition and glory soon eclipse these plans as Cortez’s victories over small bands of Maya lead to gifts of gold and tales of the strength of far-off Montezuma lead to visions of conquest.

At bottom, Cortez is able to take advantage of a Maya civilization in disarray before the violent strength of the Aztecs and he deftly plays one group off against another and all against the Mexicans on his march toward Tenochtitlan. What stands out in stark detail throughout is the degree to which Cortez and his men relied upon their asserted “duty” to spread the word of God to the natives in order to justify their rape and pillage of two decidedly advanced (if not also violent) cultures.

Told in the style of a soldier, the account still makes for fascinating reading. Diaz is sometimes brutally honest (in admitting, for example, that the vast majority of Cortez’s soldiers joined his quest to bring native slaves back to their plantations on Cuba) and sometimes transparent (in repeatedly stating their intent to do God’s work in civilizing the natives, while raping and pillaging from morning until night), and he is always nauseatingly deferential to Cortez (who was supremely powerful in both Spain and New Spain at the time of the book’s publication), but the book remains a good read both for its historical significance and to remind us all that there were fully-functioning societies—no more barbarous than the nations of Europe—long before any white man set foot on what was known to them as the New World.

Salt: A World History (Mark Kurlansky) (9.0/10.0)

Who knew a book about a cooking condiment could be so exciting?


It’s hard to imagine a world where salt is more than just a food complement, but for most of human history no element on earth has played a more critical role in society’s evolution than sodium chloride. In the aptly named, Salt: A World History, author Mark Kurlansky paints a rich and fascinating portrait of salt’s pivotal role in shaping the world as we know it.

Gold? Diamonds? Oil? All are mere historical footnotes compared with the role salt has occupied over the past five millennia of the human journey. In fact, until quite recently, salt was the most valuable commodity on the planet. Wars were waged, civilizations collapsed, and empires rose and fell as people throughout the ages sought to acquire this once scarce mineral. Salt has since shed its glamour with only the poorest and most backward countries still in the salt mining business and damning medical evidence curtailing its consumption. But Kurlansky transports us to a time when salt was the cornerstone of life and the epitome of opulence.

Transcending both time and space this running historical narrative takes us from China in 5,000 BC to England in the 19th century as this swift-paced tale unfolds. From the key ingredient in early animal domestication and antiseptic in Egyptian times, to soldier pay in Roman times, to a food preservative during the European Age of Exploration, salt has been humanity’s companion and catalyst through the ages. It’s done more than just spice up our food, harden our arteries, and provided us with witty sayings (ever wonder where the expression “salt of the earth” came from?) and that long forgotten and intriguing past is compellingly revealed in this 449-page ode to NaCl.

Kurlansky has a rare talent for making the mundane fascinating (he’s also written mesmerizing biographical accounts of both the cod fish and the oyster) and his powers are at their greatest in this enthralling read. You’ll never look at a salt shaker the same way again.

The Letters of F. Scott Fitzgerald (Andrew Turnbull, Ed.) (Rating 8.5/10)

There is perhaps nothing more satisfying for a reader than the discovery of a dusty, hardbound copy of some forgotten tome in the dirty recesses of a flea market or attic. When the reading of that tome leaves an impression, the experience is that much greater.

We came upon The Letters of F. Scott Fitzgerald in the corner of an indigenous artisan’s market in Antigua, Guatemala. More than a bit weathered and musty, it carries the scent (though not the stamp) of a public school library and the marks of having been thumbed by more than one thorough reader. As for the book itself, it is a very complete set of the letters between Fitzgerald and his intimates, including his daughter, Scottie; his wife, Zelda; his editor, Max Perkins; his friend, Ernest Hemingway; and his agent, Harold Ober, among several others. Edited by Fitzgerald’s friend, sometime ward, and fellow Princeton graduate, Andrew Turnbull, the collection provides an intimate look at a man of tremendous talent who, when not on the bottle, was a craftsman of the English language, a loving father, a devoted (if absent) husband, and a loyal friend.

Hemingway once quipped that Fitzgerald was hopelessly enamored of money and the moneyed classes, and to some extent the letters in these pages bear out that criticism, but it is his devotion to his craft, the fleeting nature of his fame, and his need for others’ respect of him as an artist come through most loudly here. And, as the years wear on, there is a particular pathos throughout of a man that feels his talent slipping from him and his reputation becoming a distant memory. Overall, The Letters of F. Scott Fitzgerald paints a very close and realistic portrait of a man that has become a part of American folklore.