In the final chapter of his book, Curious, author Ian Leslie makes seven recommendations of how one can stay curious. Like most book written by journalist, each of these comes with anecdotal stories of people who exemplified the particular trait being discussed. I think I am a curious person. Do I have the traits Leslie recommends? Here’s my self-analysis.
1. Stay Foolish. Huh? This is how the list starts? It comes from Steve Jobs quoting Stewart Brand’s mantra: “Stay Hungry, Stay Foolish.” The gist is that one should not stay too comfortable with what has worked in the past, especially past successes. Positive anecdotal example provided are Steve Jobs and Walt Disney; the negative anecdote is the Chinese empire in the seventeenth century. Well, I’m a creature of habit. I like to do what works, but at least professionally, I also enjoy constantly tweaking my teaching and my classes and periodically I make a major overhaul. I also like being comfortable, so I rate myself low for this trait.
2. Build the Database. The gist is to be hungry for information, but also a connoisseur. Leslie writes: “Great ideas don’t just spring from the moment of the mental effort involved in trying to come up with one. Their roots extend back months, years, decades into their author’s life; they are products of long-formed habits of mind as much as they are of flashes of brilliance.” Well, I read a lot (at least fifty books per year) and reasonably widely. I enjoy getting lost in a good book. And I can hold my own in a conversation on most academic subjects. But I’m not so good at small talk, and I don’t follow sports or music. I’d rate myself as above average in this area with the caveat that my interests are perhaps too theoretical and narrow.
3. Forage like a Foxhog. What is a foxhog? It’s a cross between a fox and a hedgehog. The analogies come from Isaiah Berlin who grouped thinkers into foxes or hedgehogs. “Plato was a hedgehog, Montaigne a fox.” The hedgehog focuses on one central big idea, while the fox utilizes a varied bag of tricks. Leslie argues that “in the marketplace for talent, the people most in demand will always be those who offer an expertise few others possess. But having a breadth of knowledge is increasingly valuable, too.” Well, as an academic I do have some extensive and narrow expertise, but I can’t say that few others possess it, and I’m not sure my expertise is in high demand. I’m also poor at marketing what I’m good at. I don’t want people to know so I can go on doing what I enjoy without disturbance. But I suspect I’m more of a fox than a hedgehog. I have a wide bag of tricks for problem solving. Do I forage like a foxhog? No idea. I don’t know how to rate this, probably because I don’t have a particular foraging strategy.
4. Ask the Big Why. The gist is that someone needs to ask the fundamental questions to discover assumptions behind why people are saying or behaving the way they do. The anecdotal stories are about being successful negotiators and bridge-builders. Well, I’m good at asking fundamental why questions. Sometimes other people find it annoying. I can be a decent bridge-builder when I feel like it. I’m told I can be a tough negotiator. Leslie makes the useful point that people tend to substitute the harder “why” question with the easier “what” question. I agree. I also have an iconoclastic streak and so asking the big “why” is something that I practice.
5. Be a Thinkerer. That’s a cross between thinker and tinker. Benjamin Franklin is the anecdotal star of this story, and Leslie provides multiple examples of Franklin’s insatiable curiosity. Well, I’m a thinker. But I’m a poor tinker. This stems from a neuromuscular issue where my hands shake and I have weaker finger muscles than the average person. I’m lousy with my hands. Thankfully, as a theoretical and computational chemist, I don’t need to be good with my hands. I also don’t do many chemistry demos in class, which I expect students find disappointing, but there’s a good reason behind it. I try to make up for it with lots of enthusiasm and by bringing up the strange quirky ideas of science. My personal rating? Half at best. Probably less.
6. Question Your Teaspoons. Wha-a-a-t? There is no spoon. Turns out the anecdotal story to this trait is one I was ignorant about: The Boring Conference. It’s actually interesting how what bores some people (perhaps most) is particularly interesting to a few individuals. Paper clips. Cash registers. How to make “hotel toast”. Leslie also mentions some psych studies I was less familiar with and this piqued my curiosity, particularly the contrast between goal-setting and describing one’s experience doing an activity. Do I see that anything can be interesting if you look at it long enough and hard enough? I don’t know. Do I have obscure hobbies where I’ve become a resident expert? Not anymore. I’ve become boring, and perhaps not in a good way. But I still feel curious about all manner of things. Rating unclear.
7. Turn Puzzles into Mysteries. I like puzzles. I do a New York Times crossword puzzle every day, among other things. Leslie writes: “A puzzle is something that commands our curiosity until we have solved it. A mystery, by contrast, never stops inviting inquiry… When we come across a puzzle of any kind, we should always be alert to the mystery that lies behind it, because it might be a mystery that will occupy and entertain us long after the puzzle is solved.” Perhaps that’s why I pivoted to study origin-of-life chemistry as my overarching research interest. It’s a topic that will keep me interested and engaged long after I retire professionally. But do I turn puzzles into mysteries? Sometimes. My imagination leads me to delve down rabbit-holes on a regular basis, and I enjoy thinking fox-like about many things even if I’m not a thinkerer.
Do I possess traits for staying curious? According to this list, partially. But I don’t really care about lists in general, so I’m not putting too much stock into this one. I do ask strange questions such as whether dementors get cold feet. I think I’m curious enough. And for me, that is enough.
P.S. For previous blog posts on this book, here are part one and part two.
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