Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can't Stop Talking - 3 stars

There are many different kinds of powers in the world. One child is given a light saber, another a wizard's education. The trick is not to amass all the different kinds of available power, but to use well the kind you've been granted.

Quiet had been on my radar ever since Susan Cain's popular TED Talk on introversion. I am an introvert myself; one who never minded disclosing the fact when the topic came up. Usually, that led to responses ranging from "Oh, I never would've guessed!" to "Gosh, that can't be easy". All from well-meaning people who conflate shyness with introversion - traits which sometimes go together, but are wholly different at a fundamental level. So I was very excited to find someone out there, on such a wide-reaching platform, attempting to clear up some facts about what introversion actually is and is not. Since it is a subject close to my heart, I couldn't resist adding my perspective - in case you're wondering why this review is longer than usual. :)

So what does it mean, anyway, to be an introvert, and how is it different from being an extrovert? The differences lie mostly in how we, as introverts and extroverts, process information, how we perceive demands on our time and attention, and how we recharge our faculties. From a neurobiological perspective - on which Quiet places heavy emphasis - several factors come into play. (This is easily the most fascinating section of the book, and one that led to many aha! moments and much vigorous nodding every time I came across something that resonated with my experiences.) 

For introverts, the neural pathways that transmit information are apparently not only different but also longer; the frontal cortex - governing abstract thought, planning and decision-making - is larger and denser with gray matter. In layperson's terms, it means that new information or external stimulus is processed within more sections of the brain, its purport is weighed more carefully, and more associations with existing information are attempted. But before you rejoice or feel jealous (depending on who you are): all this cool computing doesn't come for free - introverts tend to display slower response times to new and complex information; nor does it necessarily infer a superior brain - what an extrovert may perceive as a manageable and engaging amount of stimuli can easily overload an introvert's brain. 

Of course, it's not as scary as it sounds. You don't see introverts everywhere melting down from shorting their brain circuits. The brain is way more resilient - it doesn't take much to bounce back from the overstimulation of crowded parties or loud concerts. Such experiences can be a lot of fun even for introverts, albeit in smaller doses. Extroverts, on the other hand, are fueled by such activities, and find themselves completely in their element. How do they thrive in high-stimulation environments? The answer is dopamine: the neurotransmitter responsible for regulating mood and reward-seeking behaviour. As it turns out, extroverts have low sensitivity to this mood-boosting chemical. Not only can they handle more of it, their circuits are wired to crave more of it. 

I've seen this in action with the numerous extroverts among my family and friends. (On a side note, this pairing happens quite often, be it with close friends or partners. Probably because we have much to fascinate, and also learn from, each other.) They are high energy folks, who turn strangers into friends with relative ease. They range from warm and personable to frank and opinionated, but they never lack things to say, nor are ever hesitant to express themselves. They put themselves square in the onslaught of people and activities, unfazed and even excited. 

When it comes to the positive traits of extroverts, I admit to being a bit jealous at times. For many introverts, it would be fascinating to truly feel how an extrovert feels like, to jump headlong into new experiences, to pause the ever-churning thoughts for a bit and live in the moment. On the other hand, an introvert's high sensitivity and low reward-affinity bring a gamut of traits like introspection, perseverance, prudence and best of all: imagination. Building a rich inner world and toying with ideas at length can give birth to amazing and powerful ideas; ideas that make the world a better place. The work of Gandhi, Einstein, Bill Gates and J.K. Rowling might vouch for that. 

I'm not silly enough (and neither is Cain) to presume that these traits are exclusive to introverts, just as openness to experience and ease of expression are not the domain of extroverts alone. If that were true, what a dull world we'd be living in! In reality, there are no full-blown introverts or extroverts - we all fall somewhere along the scale. The extremes are just abstractions that exist to clarify the concepts. Moreover, every trait is learnable by everyone; the brain is not a static organ but an ever-evolving entity. It's just that based on temperament and environment, some qualities come relatively easy to people, while others can only be hard-won. 

But even as we celebrate the contributions of well-known introverts, as a society we are dismissive of introversion as a way of living. The book raises important concerns about how we've come to lionize the extrovert ideal. Instead of seeing the two types as natural variances, we placed extroversion on a pedestal and relegated its counterpart to second place. In doing so, we've labelled introversion an inconvenience, an impediment to overcome. Luckily for me, this was not true while growing up; even Cain notes that in eastern countries, which are more traditional and collective-based, it is extroversion that is usually shunned. Children are taught to think before they speak and exert caution in general. But taken to an extreme, that too is not ideal, as it stunts extroverted kids from being their true selves.

I do wish Quiet had a more balanced perspective and appreciation of the "other side". Given that its main focus is to clarify the nature of introversion and give a boost of validation to us folks, I did not expect to find a lot about what makes our counterparts tick. But the subtle and insidious belittling of the extroverted way was off-putting. Many references to extroversion indirectly reinforced the benefits of being an introvert (or having one on board), and highlighted the regrettable choices of extroverts, who were portrayed to act on impulse and the desire for reward-buzz. Regardless of disclaimers, I couldn't help feeling that Cain's writing came from a place of believing the introverted nature to be better. It did prompt me to find out more about extroversion on my own, and I learned quite a few interesting facts that I wouldn't have known otherwise, indirectly thanks to this book. 

Quiet meanders into self-help territory at times, doling out one too many workplace case studies of introverts (the arc invariably being: X was dissatisfied and unsure of her place, but she eventually understood how to leverage her unique traits, and ended up bringing a new perspective to her work environment). However, it never turns into preachy self-help, with advice on how to "unearth your hidden exuberance" and "blossom into your true poised self" (à la "How to Win Friends and Influence People"), as if one wouldn't be a fully functioning member of society otherwise. For not encouraging that narrative alone, I feel compelled to give it extra points. 

Mr. Penumbra's 24-Hour Bookstore - 3 stars

A man walking fast down a dark lonely street. Quick steps and hard breathing, all wonder and need. A bell above a door and the tinkle it makes. A clerk and a ladder and warm golden light, and then: the right book exactly, at exactly the right time.

How to attract a bibliophile's interest? Write a book about books; insert 'book', 'bookstore' or 'library' in said book's title; design a gorgeous cover filled with books - oh, and make them glow in the dark for good measure. Way before actually reading it, I fell in love with Mr. Penumbra's 24-Hour Bookstore for the same reasons - in more or less the same order.

The first thing that came to my mind after actually reading it: the universe loves throwing a wrench into excitement of any kind. You see, in my mind this was somehow the book meant to usher in an year of amazing reads, the One Book that would break my reviewing dry spell. And of course it's the one I ended up being most unsure of - ever. So... where to even start?

Don't get me wrong: Mr. Penumbra's stays true to the promise of its most fascinating title. A bookstore that's never closed, not once in all its history. Narrow stacks of bookshelves so tall they go up, up and away into the shadows. Thousands of volumes by unknown writers, in an unrecognized language. Eccentric customers dropping in at odd hours, requesting obscure books. Never to purchase, but to check out using member cards printed with the store's mystical logo, as if it were a secret library of sorts.

And that's just a sample of the bookstore's allure and mystery, as revealed by the observations of Clay Jannon. He is an out-of-job web designer who lands the position of night clerk at the bookstore. Intrigued by the unusual happenings, he enlists the help of some friends to make sense of what Mr. Penumbra's patrons are up to. The discovery leads to some wholly unexpected and drastic consequences.

A story so steeped in century-old bookstores and leather-bound books, I assumed, would be charming in a vintage way. I'm happy to be wrong; Mr. Penumbra's is a love letter addressed to gorgeous hardcovers and sturdy kindles, to secret knowledge gained by persistent minds and the power of open technology to solve problems. Some of the key events even unfold within Google's headquarters, romanticized as a citadel of human intelligence and technology. In many ways, Mr. Penumbra's is a delightful meeting point of old and new worlds, and becomes increasingly riveting as more and more astonishing layers are peeled away.

So, why just 3 stars for what sounds like a wonderful read? Well... for one, the element of surprise and thrill could have been handled way better. In spite of enormous scope for heart-thudding-in-ribcage moments, they end up being wasted opportunities. The core premise is also predictable - given that it's a book about books, more than anything else. Roadblocks are resolved too easily, with just the right connections and resources coming along as and when needed. But the main problem is irksome and unrelatable characters.

Clay comes across as boring and detached - even in the middle of exciting events. Mr. Penumbra and Kat Potente, Clay's super-smart romantic interest, start off as interesting characters. But like everybody else, they are seen only through Clay's perspective, making them fuzzy and one-dimensional. And then there's Neel Shah, that awful amalgamation of two bad tropes: hero's token Asian friend and geek obsessed with female anatomy. But instead of a fat white geek living in parents' basement, we get a successful Indian health-junkie entrepreneur. And that's my biggest grudge: you can't just flip outward traits to whitewash a poorly written stereotype. One bad portrayal of geeks is no less derogatory than the other. In a book so awash with geek culture, it's especially disheartening.

Really then, 3 stars? For a book that takes on so many topics with aplomb, yes. From stimulating conversations ranging from startups to The Singularity, speculations about codes and secret societies, unleashing the power of data visualizations and Hadoop, Mr. Penumbra's has it all. What's more, embedded within this book about books is - a book! It's a fictional fantasy series enchantingly named The Dragon-Song Chronicles. Snippets of it are quoted as clues, as uncanny connections arise between events in the two books. So meta! 

Mr. Penumbra's is a lovely read, if you manage to block out the silly things characters sometimes do, or say, or are. For all its flaws, it redeems itself by underscoring the sweet and memorable connections forged with people over books. 

The Hunger Games - Suzanne Collins

Hope. It is the only thing stronger than fear. A little hope is effective, a lot of hope is dangerous. A spark is fine, as long as it's contained.





The first I'd heard of The Hunger Games was three years ago, when the movie had just hit theatres. I remember it being one of the most awaited movies of the year. After all, it was based on the most successful Young Adult novels in recent times. The studio's extensive publicity combined with fans eager for an on-screen adaptation had led to much hype. But even with high expectations, I found it to be a well-made and riveting film. However, it's nothing like the sucker punch to the gut that the books deliver.

The story is set in Panem, a dystopic future version of North America. It comprises twelve districts and a dictatorial Capitol that wields all the power and wealth of Panem with a heavy hand. A thirteenth district had once existed, but the Capitol obliterated it as punishment for a failed rebellion and warning to the remaining districts which were all involved. As an additional reminder of its power over them, the Capitol orchestrates the titular Hunger Games every year. A boy and a girl from each district are "reaped" as tributes, to participate in gruesome fights to the death until a lone survivor remains. These televised games become a source of much entertainment and speculation to the Capitol's citizens, who seem all but oblivious to the unimaginable distress and perverse sadism involved.

The premise is revolting to say the least. I could not get over how inconceivable it is for such games to be used as a device for coercing people into submission. If anything, they would only serve to keep the rebel fire alive, inciting further attempts to topple the Capitol. Right? And what sort of civilized society would be entertained by the spectacle of hungry, scared children forced to kill each other?

Right.

As if empires in history never used cruelty and violence to keep citizens in line. As if war victors of our past never subjected the surrendered to ghastly horrors. As if gladiator games never happened.

Themes of war and its consequences, Roman gladiator games and distorted reality television had apparently been major influences on Collins's writing. Sadly, the movie does not often delve into such complex issues. The focus is instead directed on maintaining a fast-paced, action-packed narrative. It makes for an engrossing cinematic experience, no doubt, but demands a certain suspension of disbelief.

Not so with the books, which seem to have been crafted with the intent to strike hard and resonate deep within the psyche. Collins perfects the task of creating a believable world within an improbable framework. Panem, however distressing it may be, pulls you in.

Katniss Everdeen, our young protagonist from District 12, triggers events beyond her control by volunteering to be a tribute in place of her sister. With sharp survival instincts gained from years of hunting - after her father dies in a coalmine explosion, she's had to take it up to keep her mother and sister alive - she may actually stand a chance of surviving the first few days. Maybe even a remote chance of winning. Katniss has never killed a human before, but as her friend and hunting partner Gale reflects, how different would it be, really?

In the arena, there is no time to grapple with the philosophical implications of murder; no place for friendship or mercy. But Katniss encounters them all, in herself and a few others, most notably in her partner tribute Peeta. Her dynamic with Peeta is further complicated by her feeling indebted to him, for a simple act of kindness in their past that gave her much needed hope in a difficult time. But to win, she would have to kill him, or at least hope for his death at the hands of another tribute. Could Katniss really do that and still be herself? How much of their own self does a victor return with, anyway?

Uncomfortable questions, and not just for Katniss. Collins's stance comes across as anti-war, especially where children are used as pawns in battles. As for the notion of Panem being so impossible to exist, enough elements emerge from the story to show disturbing parallels in our own world. In brainwashed teenagers ready for war in conflict-torn countries. In regimes that force children to be their first line of defence. In organizations killing children to supposedly prove some twisted point. In debilitating poverty and hunger that compel children to grow up before their time. Need I go on?

Tolkien's Tour de Force: The Silmarillion

Imagine this: you are running a marathon. Not just any marathon, but one of the most daunting ones out there, stretched over many long days (imagine!). You trained hard and managed not to be put off it when people said it was impossible to do, or worse: an utter waste of time. The big day has finally arrived! You'd just rocketed off the starting line, very determined to see this through. Agreed, you had trouble staying on track in the beginning; a lot of gear was laid out at every turn, to be picked up before going any further. It was part of the rules, but you reasoned it out as just an initial hiccup. Surely all that heavy gear would help you navigate the arduous path later, right? So you did what you had to do: Stop, pick, proceed. Rinse and repeat.

Many hours later -- you are in a daze, wondering how you're ever going to reach the finish line. You realize no amount of training could have prepared you for this. It's the additional gear that appears every so often - even after all this time - that you are compelled to take. It's the treacherously winding road, putting a brake on your pace, making you consider every turn carefully. But more than anything, it's the sheer breathtaking old world beauty that surrounds you, engulfing your mind and senses. Every single step brings forth a new delight. You find yourself slowing down, backtracking your steps every so often, despite winding track and heavy load, to take in everything so slowly that it's imprinted on your mind. Beauty of this sort you never knew existed. You drink it all in, knowing you won't come across anything like this once you step out of this path into the outside world.

You are now lying somewhere by the track, wallowing drunkenly. It has been a while since you thought of proceeding, but the thought slowly starts niggling you, prodding you up. You dust yourself, gather the bundles, tighten your laces and get back on track - ready to be knocked again, off your feet and off your mind. That is how my experience with The Silmarillion has been for the past few days, as anticlimactic as the marathon analogy may seem :P I'm currently at [The tale] Of Beren and Lúthien - hands down the most painstakingly crafted story in the book. (For those who've read/watched Lord of the Rings: its Elvish version is sung by Aragorn one night in The Fellowship of the Ring. He says it's about an elf-maiden named Luthien who fell in love with a mortal man, and gave up her immortality to be with him.) It's admittedly a bittersweet tale, but also has some of the best exchanges of all time. My absolute favourite is this one between Beren and Thingol, father of Luthien:

Then breaking the silence Thingol said: 'Go your way therefore! Bring to me in your hand a Silmaril from Morgoth's crown; and then, if she will, Lúthien may set her hand in yours. Then you shall have my jewel; and though the fate of Arda (Earth) lie within the Silmarils, yet you shall hold me generous.'

And those that heard these words perceived that Thingol would save his oath, and yet send Beren to his death; for they knew that not all the power of the Noldor had availed even to see from afar the shining Silmarils of Feanor. For they were set in the Iron Crown, and treasured in Angband above all wealth; and Balrogs were about them, and countless swords, and strong bars, and unassailable walls, and the dark majesty of Morgoth.

But Beren laughed. 'For little price,' he said, 'do Elven-kings sell their daughters: for gems, and things made by craft. But if this be your will, Thingol, I will perform it. And when we meet again my hand shall hold a Silmaril from the Iron Crown; for you have not looked the last upon Beren son of Barahir.'

Now tell me that wasn't majestic as hell! This story is also a significant token of Tolkien's love for his wife Edith, who was the inspiration behind Luthien - supposedly the most beautiful of all the creator's children - right from when Beren first encounters her in the woods and forgets all memory of pain. So close was this story to his heart that when his wife died, Tolkien had 'Luthien' written on her gravestone, "...which says for me more than a multitude of words: she was (and knew she was) my Lúthien". After his death, 'Beren' was engraved on it beneath his name. No other eulogy could have said it better.  (I will go weep in a corner now.)