It’s always interesting to see how the same read can produce more than one response. Certainly, your response to Gladwell’s book is different than mine. Perhaps this is also, in part, due to our different life experience (e.g. it sounds like you know a great deal more about Asperger’s Syndrome than I do).

In order to better comment on your review, I first have a set of questions:
– How would you describe Gladwell’s “community lens”? I sense that you would argue that it’s too exclusive (e.g. that “outlier” can be applied more broadly). If I sense correctly, how would you redefine “community” more inclusively?
– What do you mean by “native descent” (referring to Gladwell himself)? Native to what and/or whom?
– In my read, I took away that it’s *deliberate* practice plus (i.e. “and” not “or”) opportunity/lucky breaks/exceptional circumstances, etc. that tend to produce “success.” For example, the body of scientific research that Gladwell references concerning the 10,000 hours strikes me as generally applicable; it’s just that some of us take more calendar time to acrue these critical hours than others. Do you agree?

Regardless, thanks for sharing more of your personal story. It helps explain that passion that you demonstrate at EMC. I also think it’s a great example of an important theme is Gladwell’s book; that is, how can we all help to realize communities that support determined practice for the many, not just for the few.

-Craig

Viplav

I too have read the Outliers. I have to admit here that I didn’t find anywhere in the book that stated that Bill Gates did not have talent. Nor was there any mention of the lack of talent in musicians like the Beatles.

If I’m not mistaken, I think it may well be misunderstood, this entire outliers thing. Let me give you an instance from my own experience.

Over 30 years ago I was active in the folk music scene in Wellington. I had become well known in that scene for playing fiddle simply because there were few folk fiddlers around in New Zealand at that time. True, I had played the instrument since I was 5 years old, but I have to admit to you that I never felt that there was anything special about my talent (if there was any) in playing that instrument or in my musicianship in general.

In the 70’s I was introduced to a sheep-shearer, lets call him Davey. Davey was interested in folk music and he admired my fiddle playing. He was well known for his enthusiasm and his hopeless musicianship.

Davey had two passions. Going to music clubs, and playing music. That was Davey. He hasn’t chnaged, for he is the same today.

At that time he was learning to play the guitar. At around the end of the 70′s he approached me at a folk music festival and told me he’d just bought himself a fiddle. He asked me if I could help him with a tune he was learning to play on his new fiddle and I said I’d help. When he played the tune, I told him that I’d never heard it before. He smiled and said, “You play that tune. It’s the Soldier’s Joy.”

I was so taken aback, it was hard to keep face, for his fiddle playing was so terrible that I honestly could not hear any resemblance to the Soldier’s Joy in what Davey had played to me. I asked him to play it again and I was no further towards recognising the tune he played.

Now to be honest with you, I liked Davey. His enthusiasm was something I really admired, and being a teacher, I appreciated that.

Fifteen years later I was elected the Performers Officer for the Wellington Folk Centre. A year or so later I kept that responsibility, at the same time accepting the office of President. It was then that a friend told me about how Davey was very active in the country music scene in Wellington and that, perhaps, I should listen to what he was doing with his music some time.

I went along to a concert where Davey had been asked to play as a warm-up artist and I was astonished at his ability to play and sing music with feeling. He palyed several different instruments, including the fiddle, very well. In particular, he had a way of gathering together other musicians who played good music with him.

I approached him after the concert and asked if he’d like to do a gig at the Folk Centre sometime. He was visibly humbled and shy, but he accepted the invitation to give a concert.

Of course, I had to publish the program in the newsletter. When some of the then committee members learnt that I’d booked Davey, they were angry and shocked that I’d been so stupid as to invite someone who they said had obviously no talent for music. In fact, they said that I’d spoil the reputation the Folk Centre had built up for providing good quality entertainment.

I ignored their harsh words and smiled when I suggested that maybe they should come along and hear for themselves. None of Davey’s critics turned up for his concert, needless to say.

But on the night of the concert, the auditorium was packed with people. Most were from the country clubs, but there were some from the membership of the Folk Centre there too.

Davey’s concert was splendid. He sang and played no less than five different instruments that evening, including his fiddle. As well, he embellished what he offered by inviting several of his musician friends, on separate spots, to accompany him on the stage. I thoroughly enjoyed Davey’s concert and so did the packed audience.

Now what relevance has this to what you are saying of the ‘Outliers’? Simply this. 30 years ago, I would have agreed with anyone who had told me that Davey had no talent for music. Fortunately I have an open mind. I have discovered this in the past 30 years since then.

Davey clearly had a passion for playing music. I don’t believe that he had any musical ability when I first met him. In all honesty, I cannot say this is the case today, for Davey clearly not only has musical ability, but he also has a keen passion for what he practiced.

Davey’s passion has put him where he is in the music scene in Wellington today. Oh, he’s not a pop star, or anything like it. But he has certainly created, for himself, an ability that clearly was absent 30 years ago.

Catchya later
from Middle-earth