Written by Susan Cain
Published by Broadway Books
Review by Meredith Allard
After I read Quiet, I wanted to shout ‘I’m an introvert!’ from the tallest building, but then the buildings around here aren’t very tall and I’m an introvert so I wouldn’t have shouted very loudly anyway. The shout would have been a whimper, and then I would have been upset with myself for not yelling louder. After a sigh, I gave up on the idea and went back into my house where I could be alone, which is where I wanted to be in the first place.
I had heard the terms ‘introvert’ and ‘extrovert’ many times over the years, and I understood that along those lines I fell on the introvert side of the spectrum. Like most writers, I’d rather be home behind my computer screen writing stories, blog posts, or reviews like these than doing almost anything else. In regards to degrees of introversion, I am in extremis. I’m not dying from introversion, mind you, but I’m so far there that if you pushed me I’d drop away never to be seen or heard from again.
In Quiet, Susan Cain pleads the case for introverts like myself by using examples and research, and she shows how introverts have made many contributions to society in areas like technology and entertainment. She points out what is obvious but should be stated in a book about introverts: we live in a society where extroversion is idealized and rewarded whereas introversion is discouraged and not rewarded. Cain points to the current trend toward group or cooperative work, and then she says something I’ve been longing to hear for 20 years: group work is inherently difficult for introverts. I know this is true from frequent workshops where the directions are “Turn to your neighbor and say…” or “Form a group of four and create a…” I’m not an unfriendly person, truly. But, as Cain points out, introverts cannot think on demand. Group leaders who are trying to teach are doing an injustice to introverts by insisting that their lessons consist of talking it out. Like other introverts, I don’t learn by talking, especially to strangers. I learn by figuring it out for myself. I realized in grad school as we sat around the table discussing great works of literature that I didn’t know how to insert myself into the conversation, and the thought that I should interject somehow left me more stressed than I already was.
Each page of Quiet was an “A ha!” moment for me. One of the biggest lessons I learned is that the societal push toward extroversion isn’t always a good thing. It turns out that 1/3 of people are introverts, people like me who would rather read or write than go to parties or speak out about anything anywhere. When Cain talks about how introverts need time to recharge because being in the world can drain their energy, my heart swelled—in a good way. Here Cain describes what I have always known about myself but never had the words to articulate. For my entire life I thought I was just weird. I’m not saying I’m not weird, I’m just saying I’m weird for other reasons. Why I chose the careers I did, why I live my life as I do—it all makes sense to me in a way it didn’t before I read Quiet. I had spent most of my life feeling bad about myself, feeling like I should force myself to be more social, but this book helped me realize that if I get my jollies staying home and working around the house, that’s okay. I still need to function in the world, but I can take the time I need to recharge.
Introverts will always have to deal with the negatives—being considered anti-social, being told to smile more, listening to the comments after you stay in your office because you need to recharge instead of going out for a noisy lunch with coworkers. Reading Quiet gave me the ability to say, “I don’t have to be like them. I can be myself.” What better gift can a book give?
If you’re an introvert, or you’re in a close relationship with one, you will want to read Quiet for its perceptive insights about being an introvert in an extroverted society.
Meredith Allard is the Executive Editor of The Copperfield Review.