Rating: 2.5

Most people are familiar with the terms “extrovert” and “introvert”, and many are aware that these personality types were first identified by Swiss psychiatrist Carl Jung. A few years back, Susan Cain attempted and, I think, succeeded in rehabilitating the idea of introversion, which has always had a bad rap. At best, the introvert was regarded as shy, diffident individual, afraid of her own shadow. At worst, he was the lone gunman responsible for multiple casualties at one US school or another. You know: the quiet one who always kept to himself, the one the neighbours always wondered about. In her book, Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World that Can’t Stop Talking, Cain traced how the preference for the pro-social, outgoing, party-loving extrovert came to be viewed as the norm for the emotionally healthy American adult. She also detailed the strengths and value of those with a quieter approach to being in the world, people who required solitude, enjoyed their own company, and were drained by too much time with others.

Now, Israeli-American psychiatrist Rami Kaminski has devoted a whole book to another personality type that he’s apparently come upon many times in his four decades of practice. He calls this type the “otrovert”. Honestly? I don’t buy it. To me, Kaminski has made a critical error or two. He appears to have assumed that introversion is invariably accompanied by shyness. The otrovert, he makes clear, is not shy. While introverts are as concerned about being accepted by others and “belonging” as extroverts are, Kaminski writes, from Day 1 the otrovert, feels like an outsider, failing to identify with any group, and feeling no sense of belonging. Indisposed to small talk, the otrovert engages in deeper conversations even with strangers, forges strong, close friendships with individuals, and is preternaturally observant and intelligent. This type values his own company, but he’s not shy or retiring (the hallmarks of the introvert, according to Kaminski). Even though the otrovert is depleted by social events and communal rituals, people might actually take him for an extrovert.

Kaminski provides thumbnail sketches of many of his past patients, but his theory doesn’t seem to rest on any actual research. There’s no science here. Just long and fairly idealized descriptions of this personality type. (Did I mention that the author identifies as one?) Among other things, there’s advice to parents about what to do if they’ve got an otrovert child. The advice isn’t bad, but it applies equally well to parents dealing with an introverted kid. That’s because, in my mind at least, otroverts don’t exist. They’re just variations on introverts. Kaminski also asserts that because the otrovert’s entire life has been a “solitary journey”, he or she is is more equipped to deal with death. Knowing that togetherness was only an illusion, otroverts don’t struggle with their demise as “communal” people do. There is, of course, nothing much to back up this claim (beyond the author’s report about a wise, elderly patient). And this points to the big problem with Kaminski’s book. There’s really nothing objective to support his clinical observations: no neuroimaging, no cognitive studies, or anything else to convince the reader that he’s on to something.

One thing that I did find valuable is Kaminski’s observation that deep understanding of oneself and one’s own needs (independent of what the group imposes) and acceptance of one’s difference from others can bring contentment. It is wonderful to know that with practice one can learn to rely on the remarkable resources within. So I did appreciate the author’s emphasis on self knowledge. I think he’s right that many are unaware of themselves. Their busyness, while distracting and seemingly protective, can be harmful.

This book was a quick enough and occasionally interesting read—and a few may even see themselves in his descriptions. In the end, however, I’m doubtful that The Gift of Not Belonging is going to bring about a revolution in the study of personality types.