A quarter of a century after The Tipping Point sold 1.7 million copies and spent eight years on bestseller lists, Malcolm Gladwell is once again examining how contagious phenomena have evolved in the digital age with his new book, Revenge of the Tipping Point (Little, Brown). Speaking with PW while driving between Dallas and Houston on his extensive book tour, Gladwell reflected on how publishing has transformed since his breakthrough work and more.
What was the tipping point for The Tipping Point in the publishing context?
It wasn't successful right away. It took a long time to get going and really became a big seller in paperback, not hardcover. I spent a lot of time on the road in those years. I think two things built a base for me: one was the association with the New Yorker, which was probably very close to its peak in terms of cultural influence. Second, I threw myself into touring around and building an audience face-to-face. When you have that foundation, it's much easier for something to tip.
In the original Tipping Point, you talk about [Rebecca Wells’s novel] Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood as an example of how a book became a contagion. Have you observed how that phenomenon has changed?
There was something very specific about works of fiction, particularly the Ya-Ya Sisterhood. It was about how a book became an occasion or reason for a social occasion. I feel like there's a long cultural tradition of women getting together in groups to talk and chat. Fiction has always been a more reliable source of book club fodder than non-fiction. But what I really took from that story was the amount of effort Rebecca Wells put into promoting it. When I read about that, I thought, "Oh, that's how it's done." You're not finished when you finish the book—you've just started.
How does that apply today, given your extensive media presence, podcasting career, and innovative approach to audiobooks?
If anything, the importance of face-to-face experience in publicizing a good book has grown, not diminished. Thirty years ago, I had zero expectation I would ever meet any of the authors of books I read. Now, people consider that part of the experience. That's the paradox—I'm living in an age with more media access than ever before, but I'm also spending more time on the road. I'm doing as healthy a tour for this book as I've ever done.
Let's talk about audiobooks. You've put significant production value into your audio projects. Has that paid off?
Absolutely. Talking to Strangers sold over a million audiobooks, partly because people were drawn to the experience—we had elements of singing in it, it was like a real production. Revenge of the Tipping Point ranks higher as an audiobook than it does as a print book, reflecting that we're delivering a quality experience.
What's your prognosis for the audiobook industry?
I think we have to start decoupling the print and audiobook versions. Making an audiobook version of a full print book is too long—it's unmanageable. I think a good audiobook is probably half the length of the print version. I'm much more comfortable asking for 4 hours of someone's time than 10 hours. The challenge now is that print book marketing drives audiobook consumption. We need to find ways to independently market audiobooks or just write shorter books. I remain baffled as to why we cling to the expectation that a book has to be 80,000-plus words.
Is there a way to apply the principles from The Tipping Point and Revenge of the Tipping Point to encourage reading, particularly among men, who are underrepresented among avid readers?
I don't know whether it's supply or demand driven. When I go into a bookstore and look at the fiction table, it's overwhelmingly written by women, certainly with women in mind. So I wonder: are young men not reading because no one's writing fiction for them, or are we not writing fiction for them because they're not reading? If I was a 25-year-old guy who went into a bookstore wanting to read a novel, I would be at a loss. There are some sub-genres strictly male-oriented, but the vast swath of literary fiction seems very squarely aimed at women. I'm wondering whether publishers have given up on them as a potential audience.
What do people consistently get wrong about book publishing?
People write books for multiple motivations, and a lot of what passes for criticism these days is someone who believes in one motivation criticizing someone who believes in another motivation. I find that silly. We should be open to the fact that there are ten different reasons why you would want to write a book, all equally valid. That's the beauty of the book business—we've created a creative form that allows for that extraordinary diversity of motivations.
What's an example?
I've always revered John Grisham, and I find the kind of sneering at people like him really unseemly. His motivation is to tell powerful, compelling stories to a mass audience—that's insanely hard to do, and he does it really well, maybe as well as anyone in contemporary book writing. Why isn't that accomplishment on the same level as writing an incredibly dense, literary novel that's brilliant and groundbreaking but is read by a fraction of the audience?