Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World that Can't Stop Talking

It is Friday night and I am sitting in my reading loft with two dogs, one cup of tea, a Nook, a Kindle, and a plethora of old fashioned books. This is my favorite place to be on a Friday night - or any night for that matter.  On Saturday morning I will awake and spend an hour or two running and walking my dogs. And then, and only then, will I be fully ready to re-enter society.

One third to one half of us are introverts. Susan Cain's book Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World that Can't Stop Talking is written for us. It is for those of us who find respite in the bathroom in the midst of a crowded party. It's for those those of us who feel nervous and out of place at school pep rallies or football games. It is a book written for those of us who were miserable at summer camp, who cringed when the teacher said "get into groups and complete this assignment," who still shudder at the proposal of "game night" and awkardly sit in a corner and knit in the midst of a cocktail party.

Yep, that's me. I'm thirty years old, and I'm not gonna change who I am.

Charles Darwin, Eleanor Roosevelt, Bill Gates, and Al Gore, were/are all introverts too. Being an introvert does not mean that one fades into the background. Eleanor Roosevelt married one of the most gregarious extroverts the world has ever known, but it was her thoughtful intellectualism and her keen sense of observation that allowed her to be the moral compass of the New Deal. It was her conviction, her quiet sense of purpose, and her firm belief in racial equality that led her to pen her famous letter to the Daughters of the American Revolution, renouncing her membership in the organization after they refused to allow Marian Anderson to perform at Constitution Hall. Months later a multiracial throng gathered at the steps of the Lincoln Memorial to see Marian Anderson perform. That concert drew thousands, many more than could have fit into Constitution Hall. That my friends, is the mark of an assertive introvert.

Introverted does not mean shy. I am not shy, but I do not bother with small talk. You'll never find me talking about clothes, babies, or sports, but bring up sweatshop workers in developing countries, homeless pets, factory farming, or the corruption in the football industry and watch as the fireworks erupt. Introverts enjoy depth, not breadth in conversation. We don't strive to talk to as many people as we can, we strive to really truly have a meaningful, purposeful conversation. I feel like Eleanor Roosevelt and I would get along swimmingly.

In addition to initiating a parade of great minds, this book presented the reader with a few forays into the realm of neuroscience. In chapter four, the author describes experiments conducted on infants. A group of infants who reacted intensely to new stimuli (loud noises, bright lights, etc) tended to grow up to be introverts. Those highly reactive babies that had increased heart rate and heightened cortisol (stress) levels also had a lot of activity in their amygdala. The amygdala basically controls emotion and responds to threat. In short, babies who got stressed at any change in their environment tended to grow up to be more introverted. Which makes sense doesn't it? I for one crave stability and routine. I hate surprises. Unexpected social situations are my worst nightmare. (So if you see me in the grocery store, yes, I'm probably avoiding you. I had not planned on having a conversation with you right then and there. Don't take it personally, my amygdala is freaking out.)

This book also helped me to understand an essential difference between my husband and I. You see, while I read books, he plays video games. I like to put my money away in a secure, admittedly low-interest savings account; he would rather maximize our returns by investing in tech companies. He thinks that family time should involve board games, I don't see why we can't all just sit around read books. Apparently it all comes down to brain chemistry. He has highly active dopamine pathways. This neurotransmitter triggers the brain's reward network and gives competitive risk-takers like my husband a rush when someone proposes a competitive game of backyard volleyball. I, on the other hand, will run and hide behind my knitting needles. Apparently, this is typical of introverts. We tend to have very low reward sensitivity. It is not an absolute, but there is a strong correlation. Brain studies have even shown that the orbifrontal cortex, which is a major part of body's reward system, is larger in extroverts. Thus, high reward sensitivity tends to correlate with extroversion.

See what I did there, I just implied that my husband's brain is larger than mine. But don't worry, I'm not done. I am a little competitive. The orbifrontal cortex is the primitive part of the human brain - the part that is most similar to animal brains. Introverts and those with low reward sensitivity tend to have a more developed neocortex. This is the part of the brain that is unique to humans. It is the part that moderates our primal impulses and allows for complex processing, specifically risk analysis. This is why introverts tend to prefer smaller, more intimate social groupings. Larger groups contain more risk. Introverts have heightened ability to assess that risk, and as a result experience greater stress levels in large social contexts. We also tend to mull over decisions and consider all the alternatives. No, we're not the charismatic, quick-thinkers. We're the intellectual tortoises that beat the hares and win the race.

Lastly, I loved how Cain referenced the "Orchid Hypothesis" toward the end of chapter four. This theory, named by Atlantic writer, David Dobbs, posits that some children are like dandelions; they can flourish anywhere. Others - those who are highly reactive and introverted - are more like orchids, "they wilt easily, but under the right conditions can grow strong and magnificent."