Question. Answer. Malcolm Gladwell and the simple truths of storytelling

Malcolm Gladwell. Best-selling author of simple truths. In his writing, he breaks down truths that should be "self-evident" and renders them into fascinating prose. I read his second book, Blink, over a year ago. I liked it a lot. Found it interesting. Blink examined the way humans make decisions, how you can manipulate the decision of others (which is basically the business of advertising and marketing), and how some decisions are split-second and others are more of an analysis. But in terms of interesting, Malcolm Gladwell himself far outdoes anything I read in his book. 

A little over a month ago, I went to see a moderated discussion with Malcolm Gladwell as part of JCC Conversations (I told you their programming was amazing). Abigail Pogrebin, former producer for the likes of Charlie Rose, Bill Moyer, and Mike Wallace, and (now) acclaimed author herself was our guide for the evening. As it turned out, Malcolm needed little guidance to captivate his audience, but brava to Abigail for allowing her subject to tell his own story rather than forcing him in a direction she had planned on. 

Sitting in the spotlight, Malcolm's wiry figure exuded this zany energy—which seemed to split like electricity through the hairs in his afro. A literary Einstein of a man sat before me. The first thing that Gladwell said in response to how he finds such interesting people and trends to write about: "Most people are interesting." He asserts that the observer has the opportunity to find that 'interesting' piece of a person. He continued that most of us are wrong about what is interesting about ourselves. 

For example, I might think it's interesting that I have a blog. But that's not really interesting. Everyone has a blog now. What's interesting is that ever since the first grade my teachers were constantly telling me that I wrote too much and needed to follow the guidelines of length for my homework. My response back then was, but I have so much to say. SO, what's interesting is that even from the age of five I have had more thoughts than I know what to do with. (Of course, I could also be wrong about that being interesting based on Gladwell's statement that we don't know what is interesting about ourselves...but you get my point.)

Part of the reason Gladwell has been so successful in his writing, is that he has been able to uncover these seemingly obvious examples of interesting people and interesting trends, AND he has organized them in a way that puts random pieces together into a contiguous puzzle. 

For example, Gladwell spoke a lot about his upcoming book David and Goliath. Now in ancient times there were three divisions of the armed forces: the cavalry (with spears on either horseback or chariot), the slingers (like David who used slingshots and other stone-driven weapons), and the footmen (like Goliath who were basically the gruntmen or combat soldiers). Gladwell explained that this was a game of rock, paper scissors. Footmen always beat cavalry. Cavalry always beats slingers. Slingers always beat footmen. You do the math. David was always going to beat Goliath. It didn't matter that Goliath was bigger. David was a slinger, throwing a stone with incredible accuracy at 60 miles per hour. Goliath was a dead man and he knew it. 

So: Why are pretending that [this story] it's some miraculous victory?! Gladwell asks. "The whole mythology of that story is backwards. It suggests that there is something fundamentally amiss with how we think about advantage and disadvantage." Such was inspiration about Gladwell's latest study about perceived advantages (like wealth or Ivy League education) and perceived disadvantages (like a troubled childhood) in our society. 

It took a man who thinks like Gladwell to call into question a legend that has been passed down for 3,000 years and then to discover real-life examples to prove his point. 

I didn't read Gladwell's most famous book The Tipping Point until after that night. I find it fascinating how he seems to explain our own culture, our own behavior to us. In The Tipping Point, Gladwell explains word-of-mouth and practically maps a plan of how to make a trend or a product the next epidemic. I can only assume that he also used the principles of The Tipping Point to become as famous as he has. 

To listen to Gladwell tell a story, is to hear how he thinks. He spends a lot of time on details that cause him to sound like he is rambling on and following tangents. But it is precisely this attention to detail and his lack of fear of losing his audience to tangents that make him so brilliant. 

For instance, Pogrebin asked him about his mother's influence on him. Gladwell launched into a fifteen minute diatribe about his parents' marriage and how is mother was black and his father was white and his father asked for access to a library at a university in the US while he was working in the islands. The university was all up in arms because they didn't know if Gladwell's father was black or white and they couldn't reach him while he was in the Caribbean and oh-my-goodness what if he showed up and was black and they couldn't just let a black man into the library! Now that story is arguably unrelated to Pogrebin's original question, but how interesting!

Gladwell is not afraid to follow his own mind. During the Q&A portion of the evening, I asked Gladwell how he chooses the topics that he case studies, and once he selects his topic how he finds the real-life example to demonstrate his point. Gladwell's answer? Basically that he pays attention to the things the mainstream find unimportant. While watching a biography of someone famous on PBS, he pays attention to the quick mention of a side character. While reading a book, he reads the footnotes. Gladwell emphasized that he finds the facts and people that don't fit into a story more interesting than the plotline. 

You bet your bottom dollar that I've begun reading every footnote and considering each side-mention I come across. I'm trying more and more to act on my questions—to follow my question through to the answer. I want to follow my mind.

My Weeknight with Jason

Phew...that was some hiatus. After over a year of blogging, I needed to recharge my batteries. Re-evaluate The A Train's purpose.

To be honest, I'm not sure I've come to a definitive conclusion. But, I have done some things and met some characters in the past few weeks who merit a post. So let's start with them.

First of all, it should be noted that the JCC Manhattan (76th and Amsterdam) has some of the best programming I've ever encountered. Seriously, I don't even know how the get these high profile people to speak and—once they get names that people will come clambering for—manage to provide an engaging and intimate environment. Check out their offerings. In the words of Seth Rudetsky, BRAVA!

This past Monday, I attended "A Deeper Look at The Last Five Years" a conversation with composer/lyricist Jason Robert Brown. Jason Robert Brown is the musical mastermind behind such show as Songs for a New World, Broadway's 13, and Parade—for which he won a Tony. Jason Robert Brown (of the three part name trend) approached the stage with the air of a philharmonic conductor. His jet black hair flounced in the AC and I thought his serious, stiff, nerdy handshake might send our moderator flying on impact from the jerked movement. I adored it. So nerdy. So official. So esteemed.

Personally, there is nothing I find more interesting than listening to an artist explain their process, how things came to be. The backstage look. No doubt my experience from Monday will imbue The Last Five Years with even more meaning once I see it—just as hearing Malcolm Gladwell speak enhanced my reading of The Tipping Point (to be discussed next time).

This spring, Second Stage brings back Brown's stunning (and Drama-Desk-winning) The Last Five Years under his direction. A musical of just two onstage characters, Jamie and Cathy, the piece tells the story of a relationship, including its inception and demise. Jamie tells the story forward; Cathy tells it backwards; they converge only once: at their wedding. That's the two-second version.

It's a brilliant concept to say the least, one that Brown says "just hit me all at once." Lincoln Center had commissioned him to do a new work. He had no idea for this work. As he was walking from home to Lincoln Center to present his idea for said work it came to him. Now, rather than saying "Oh, it couldn't possibly have just hit him! That doesn't just happen," I argue that this is the difference between creative genius and ordinary people. After all, genius quite literally means "an exceptional natural capacity for intellect."

He had the idea that a love story could be, and should be, told both forwards and backwards. This is not the way the structure evolved. This is the way it was born. Of course, he also admits that "the idea of playing with time...Merrily [We Roll Along] and Arcadia...as a dramatic and emotional way of storytelling" seemed truthful and powerful and appealing. But really, the story—in his words—is about "Two people who cannot figure out how to be in the same place at the same time." In that case, how could he have ever thought to structure it any other way?

It is because these ideas synthesize so naturally to Brown (I'm sorry can we call him Jason? He was just so cordial and Jewishly familiar the other day).... It is because these ideas come so naturally to Jason that he is a genius. It's not odd for him. Concepts, musical phrases, sounds they just come to him. That's why he writes and wins awards.

BUT arguably, and more importantly, this is why he reaches his audiences in such a way that probe our core. If you are a Jason Robert Brown fan, you are a fan of raw storytelling. You are a fan of deep beauty in music. Not only do concepts come to him intuitively, he has a gift when it comes to human emotion. It's that affinity for truth and relatability that bears a JRB fan.

Monday night was not just a conversation, it was also a behind-the-scenes concert. (Yay!) Jason performed interludes of his own music throughout the evening. No song of his more aptly demonstrates his ability to tap into penetrating, speech-stealing, graphic emotion than in his song "If I Didn't Believe In You" from Last Five Years. 

If you listened to that linked video (which for your soul-enrichment's sake I pray you did), you know that the melody is stunning and expressive. But what always impresses me about Jason's songs are his lyrics. They bullseye a truth that—to the rest of us—seems inexplicable. I mean, in this song there is a man breaking to prove to his wife that of course he loves her, and believes in her, and chooses her. Just because he won't compromise his own success to prove it, doesn't mean it isn't true:

If I didn't believe in you
Then here's where the travel log ends
If I didn't believe in you
I couldn't have stood before all of our friends

And said "This is the life I choose
This is the thing I can't bear to lose
Trip us, or tap us but we refuse to fall"
That's what I thought we'd agreed on

Cathy, If I hadn't believed in you...
I wouldn't have loved you...at all.

Have you ever heard more unerring lyrics in terms of human truth? I'm not married, but I know many married people. My feeling from them is that at that moment, the moment they were married, they stood before everyone and made this be all end all choice. Jason captures that in words.

He talked a bit about his lyrics because an audience member commented that they breathe authenticity, to which Jason answered, "If it doesn't feel real, I can't do it." Matter-of-factly, as a singer he knows when something comes out of his mouth is bullshit. He doesn't believe in bullshit.

Not in writing. Also not in performing. As is well-known in the theatrical community, Jason's songs are notoriously difficult to sing. A role of his is insane to perform because, well, you have to be able to sing and act multiple magnum opuses eight times a week. Jason emphasized that there is a very small group of people, Olympians he called them, who can handle that. When asked if the actors eventually cast in his shows resent the difficulty, Jason shrugged "The really good ones don't resent me and the bad ones shouldn't do it."Brutal truth. Amen.

Jason's not afraid to speak his mind. Some would describe him as arrogant. I would describe him as blunt with a touch of (earned) ego. Just as in his lyrics, he doesn't believe in bullshit.

Jesse Green, our moderator, began to prompt JRB, "So I know that [your character] Jamie is a very prodigal young man and your career also took off early, but many have asked before if it's autobiographical and you've said no—." "Oh that's horseshit. Of course, it's autobiographical. It's about me and, well, my ex-wife." Yes! Let's NOT beat around the bush. All you folks who may become famous out there. Don't get cute. Call a spade a spade. Take a page out of Jason's book. Let the people who want to know the behind-the-scenes GO behind the scenes! Trust me, we will love you for it.

In between these moments of admission, discussions of his career, pieces of his personal struggles, and his writing choices, he sang, self-accompanied. JRB can sing—he's no Norbert Leo Butz—but he can sing. But, I was in awe watching him play. He commands the piano. He has tamed it, but knows exactly how to pull out the big guns. He is masterful and it was an honor to hear him play.

As to whether he'll write something for Broadway, he prefers a smaller scale. "I couldn't put up a show [on Broadway] unless it was very broad, and my shows are very specific. It's hard to produce narrow," he said. Well thank G-d this country is not one big Broad Way or we might never hear from him again.

A few days later, I tuck away his comments, his answers, his process, his questions, his knowledge to use in my own creative process.

I cannot even describe how excited I am to finally see a live production (and what should be a good one at that) of The Last Five Years and not just rely on YouTube anymore. But moreso, I am grateful to have had the opportunity to listen to Jason, to hear his thought process, to feel like I was sitting in a coffee shop talking to an old friend. Break a leg, old friend.