Susan Cain préfère fouiner dans les coins les moins examinés de l'Amérique can-do. En 2012, elle a publié "Quiet:The Power of Introverts in a World That Can't Stop Talking", qui est devenu un phénomène et a rendu à la mode et même cool les moins bavards d'entre nous. Le nouveau livre du diplômé de la Harvard Law School de 1993, "Bittersweet :How Sorrow and Longing Can Make Us Whole", est devenu un New York Times Best-seller. The Gazette a parlé avec Cain de la façon dont embrasser le caractère poignant de la vie peut conduire à la créativité et à la connexion. L'interview a été modifiée pour plus de clarté et de longueur.

GAZETTE :Que signifie avoir un état d'esprit "doux-amer" ?

CAIN :Cela a à voir avec la prise de conscience que la vie est un mélange de joie et de tristesse, de lumière et d'obscurité, et que tout ce que vous aimez est impermanent. J'ai fait l'expérience de cet état d'esprit pour la première fois lorsque j'écoutais de la musique triste. Toute ma vie, j'ai eu cette réaction mystérieuse à la musique triste; cela me ferait ressentir un sentiment de connexion avec les personnes qui avaient connu le chagrin que le musicien essayait d'exprimer. Au début, je pensais que c'était juste moi, mais quand j'ai commencé mes recherches, j'ai réalisé que de nombreux musicologues étudiaient cela parce que depuis longtemps, de nombreuses personnes avaient cette réaction non seulement à la musique, mais à d'autres aspects de l'expérience humaine. . Il existe une tradition profonde à travers le monde et à travers les siècles de personnes faisant l'expérience de cet état d'esprit supérieur qui découle d'une prise de conscience de la fragilité et de l'impermanence.

GAZETTE :Vous faites un lien entre cet état d'esprit et la religion. Pouvez-vous en parler un peu ?

CAIN :Nous écoutons de la musique triste pour la même raison que nous allons à l'église ou à la synagogue ou à la mosquée. Nous aspirons au jardin d'Eden, nous aspirons à La Mecque, nous aspirons à Sion parce que nous venons dans ce monde avec le sentiment qu'il existe un monde plus parfait et plus beau auquel nous appartenons, où nous ne sommes plus. Nous ressentons cela intensément, mais nous ne sommes pas vraiment encouragés à exprimer cela. Pourtant, nos religions le font pour nous. L'art le fait aussi. Dans "Le Magicien d'Oz", Dorothy aspire à un endroit "quelque part au-dessus de l'arc-en-ciel", et Harry Potter aspire à revoir ses parents. C'est un élément fondamental de toute expérience humaine. C'est ce que la musique exprime, et c'est pourquoi nous l'écoutons, et c'est pourquoi nous nous sentons si connectés les uns aux autres quand nous la faisons parce que c'est notre état d'être le plus primaire. Mais parce que nous devons tous gagner notre vie, élever nos enfants et vivre notre vie, nous ne sommes pas tellement en contact avec ces états plus profonds. Les arts et la musique ont un moyen de nous ramener.

GAZETTE :Beaucoup de gens trouveraient qu'il est bon d'avoir une vision positive de la vie. Quel est le problème avec ça ?

CAIN :Il y a deux choses qui ne vont pas. Premièrement, il ne s'agit tout simplement pas de dire la vérité sur une expérience humaine, car il n'y a aucun être humain qui ne connaît pas à la fois la joie et la peine, la lumière et l'obscurité. Cela fait partie de la vie humaine. Se dire que nous ne devrions pas dire la vérité sur nos expériences est intrinsèquement invalidant. But the deeper reason is that there is something about the melancholic side of our experience that is intimately connected to creativity and to transcendence. We shouldn't want to be robbing ourselves of this experience.

In the book, I developed a bittersweet quiz, with psychologists Dr. Scott Barry Kaufman and Dr. David Yaden, that people can take to measure how likely they are to experience bittersweet states of being. Dr. Kaufman and Dr. Yaden ran some preliminary studies and found that people who score high on the quiz, meaning that they tend to experience bittersweet states of mind, are also more inclined to states that predispose them to creativity, awe, wonder, spirituality, and transcendence. These are some of the most sublime aspects of being human, and they happen to be connected to our appreciation of how fragile life can be, and the impermanence of life.

GAZETTE:Why does sadness get a bad rap in American culture?

CAIN:The U.S. culture since the 19th century has been organized around the idea of winners and losers. This way of thinking originated in the economic sphere, where we started asking, "If somebody succeeded or failed in business, was that a question of good luck or bad luck?" Or "Was it something inside the person that made them have that outcome?" Increasingly, the answer that people arrived at was that it was driven by something within the person, and we started having this dichotomy of seeing each other as winners and losers. The more you have that kind of dichotomy, the more you want to behave in a way that indicates that you're a winner and not a loser. Anything that would be associated with loss, like sorrow, longing, sadness, or melancholia, would be seen as being part of the loser side of the ledger.

Being a winner was associated with being successful and cheerful. Even back in the 19th century, the psychologist William James commented on how it was becoming unfashionable for people to complain about the weather because it was seen as being too negative. During the Great Depression, a common view was to see those who lost everything as losers. In my research, I found a news article with the headline:"Loser Committed Suicide in the Streets." That is astonishing if you think about it, but the use of the word loser has only increased over time.

I would also say that religion has played a role. The U.S. was originally a Calvinist country, and in the Calvinist religion, you were predestined for heaven or hell. There was nothing you could do about it, but you could show that you were one of the people who was going to heaven. The way to do it was by working hard, and then that thinking got transferred later in the 19th century into:"Are you a winner or a loser?"

GAZETTE:Why should people embrace the bittersweet aspects of life? What's in for them?

CAIN:The first thing I would say is to look at the data, which is quite overwhelming. Psychologist Laura Carstensen at Stanford University did some fascinating studies where she showed that people who are attuned to what she calls life's fragility—the fact that our days are numbered—also tend to find a sense of meaning in their lives and have a greater sense of gratitude; they are more focused on their deeper relationships, and they're less likely to feel angry and irritable.

There's also the work by David Yaden, who found that people who are in transitional states of life, including divorce and approaching the end of their lives, also tend to reach those states of mind that Laura Carstensen was talking about. We saw it collectively in the United States after 9/11, when many people turned in the direction of meaning. We saw a huge increase in applications for Teach For America and to take jobs as firefighters, nurses, or teachers. We're seeing that now in the wake of the pandemic, with more applications to medical and nursing schools and people wanting more meaning from their work and personal lives.

GAZETTE:You wrote about the power of introverts in "Quiet." This book is about the strength of embracing a bittersweet outlook on life. Why are you drawn to these underrated aspects of humanity?

CAIN:I think that both these aspects of humanity are connected. I also think there's something about writing books that gives us the permission to discuss things that aren't as easy to talk about in everyday life. To me, the whole point of writing books is to look at the unexamined, the unspeakable, and the unarticulated. I'm just most interested in talking about that which can't be said when we're just chatting at the grocery store.

GAZETTE:What do you hope people will take away from this book?

CAIN:I would like people to be less afraid of experiencing melancholy, sorrow, and longing, and to embrace the powers that bittersweetness has to offer:the powers of creativity, connection, and transcendence. It has been very interesting for me to see the response from readers of "Bittersweet," which is a very different book from "Quiet." But the letters I'm getting from readers of "Bittersweet" are very similar to the ones that I got from those who read "Quiet" in that what people say over and over is, "I feel understood," "I had never been able to give voice to it," "I feel validated." A lot of people write me saying that after reading the book they're realizing that they have suppressed the melancholic side of their nature all their lives, and they're also realizing how valuable that side of their nature is. There has been this curious echo with "Quiet," which I didn't set out to do, but it ended up happening.