jbutman's blog

If there is one thing that publishers are desperate for right now, it’s counterintuitivity. “Just add some more counterintuitive stuff,” an agent said to me about a book proposal. “You know, something like, ‘You thought you knew that cottage cheese makes for a healthy diet, but, as indicated by new research coming out of the University of Flerstine, as little as three grams of lo-fat cottage cheese can produce one zilligram of xerocrene, which actually increases one’s desire to eat large slices of pie.” Who knew? Cottage cheese linked to pie consumption! That is flippin’ counterintuitive. Didn’t even know there was such a thing as xerocrene. Wow!

I am convinced that some pleasurable physical thing happens in the brain when a few grey cells find out that the tidbit of info they had been storing all those years is complete hooey and can now be shot out through the endocrine system into outer space and replaced with some shiny new bit of correct knowledge. Good riddance, you completely wrong thought! Welcome, you cool, learned, actual fact.

We have Malcolm Gladwell to thank for this. One of his favored expressions is, “It turns out that…” Meaning that, after extensive analysis of all the fascinating research that is being conducted in lofty places by celebrated brainiacs that only he has access to, Malcolm is able to definitively pronounce that all the impressions that most people have about a lot of things are actually ass backwards and he can definitively state how things finally, conclusively, “turn out.” I love that kind of switcheroo, especially when it’s followed by a nice, chunky certainty.

You might assume that publishers (and readers) would never tire of such literary parlor tricks, but, according to recent research conducted by the good folks at The Center for Sudden Twists and Unexpected Turns, it turns out that increased exposure to counterintuitive statements actually leads to a decrease in one’s ability to make any assumptions about anything at all, with the result that it gets harder and harder to displace known incorrect facts with new correct ones, thus reducing the average number of counterintuitive pleasure bursts per page, which eventually reduces book sales, and ultimately causes publishers to look for new ways to stimulate the grey cells. Expect to see a return to the comforting pleasure of affirmation that everything you already know is actually right.

Who knew?

There’s one kind of reading that everybody loves: Infosnacks. Juicy, crispy, salty little morsels of information that you can pop into your brain, insume instantly, and get an immediate rush of quasi-educational delight.

Like this: One out of every 17 novels purchased in the US since 2006 has been a James Patterson title.

Whole meals can be constructed of infosnacks. Freakonomics, for example. Most of Gladwell. (Infosnacks may very well be wrong, but that rarely gets in the way of enjoying them.)

Here’s another one: On average, the physical production, shipping, and storage of a book only account for 10% of a publisher’s total book production costs.

Almost any infosnack is tasty, but the most scrumptious ones are counterintuitive. The exact opposite of what you thought! The grey cells wriggle with oxymoronic delight.

One more: Women tend to be shorter than men because 90% of pheromones are exuded through their hair, so women who are shorter exude directly into men's noses, and are thus more likely to be naturally selected for matehood.

Now you’d better go watch a video, for a change of pace.

Here's one important feature the iPad is missing: smell. New books have a clean, woody-inky aroma, reminiscent of the first day of school. Old books smell even better. Like parchment baked in sunlight, scented by the perfume of fingers touching the page.

I like to think there are design engineers working on the problem. How to synthesize Ye Olde Book Redolence and injection mold it into the spine of a Kindle. But I doubt that's the case. Smart designers are working on adding or improving the features that make sense for an ebook: color and capacity and integration of video.

Scent is just one reason that people will not soon give up on the printed book, no matter what else happens. Brain scientists tell us that the sense of smell is the most emotionally evocative of all. The accumulated emotions of years of reading are transmitted in that first whiff of a printed page.

Here at Idea Platforms, Inc., we have long been fascinated by a very distinct and intriguing kind of actor on the American stage: the idea entrepreneur.

Edward Tufte, for example. His idea is that visual design fundamentally affects, for better or worse, the meaning of information. Starting in 1983, with his first book The Visual Display of Quantitative Information, Tufte has built an idea platform around visual literacy that includes books, speaking, consulting, merchandise, and works of art.

Idea entrepreneurs like Tufte harbor a desire to change the world, just as social entrepreneurs do, but through a profit-making enterprise. They can take in millions of dollars, billions even, but making money is never the goal, only the fuel that sustains them and their idea.

Idea entrepreneurs always have a strain of the educator in them. Martha Stewart, driven by the belief that women can be thoroughly modern and also love pursuits considered as traditionally female (cooking, decorating, entertaining), sells a lot of cookware and utensils, but magazines―filled with ideas and practices―are her bread and butter.

Which brings me to the book. Even in the age of tweets and blogs, the book is essential to creating an idea platform. Yes, people read books differently than they did even a couple of years ago―in short bursts, many at once―but a book is still valued as a symbol of authority and a form of legacy. Ben Franklin, our earliest idea entrepreneur, would not hold the place he does in our society―even with the almanac, the consulting, the speaking, and the inventions―without his books.

A book is not enough, however: idea entrepreneurs must live and embody their idea, often overcoming severe reversals and great hardships to do so. Greg Mortenson, co-author of Three Cups of Tea and driven by the idea that education brings peace, found his mission in a failed attempt to climb K2 in honor of his dead sister. He spent years laboring, with little help or money, to build schools in the wilds of Pakistan before the book created what has become an incredibly strong idea platform.

There are many would-be idea entrepreneurs, but very few who attain the influence of Dr. Andrew Weill (you can heal yourself); chef Bryant Terry (food is justice); Bear Grylls (rely on yourself); Mireille Guiliano (French style improves everything); or Jim Collins (good is the enemy of great).

Who do you consider to be an idea entrepreneur?