this all the time. But what struck me was how even more subtle
and absurd the stereotyping was in my case: this wasn’t about
something really obvious, such as skin color or age or height or
weight. It was just about hair. Something about the first
impression created by my hair derailed every other
consideration in the hunt for the rapist. That episode on the
street got me thinking about the weird power of first
impressions. And that thinking led to Blink — so I suppose,
before I thank anyone else, I should thank those three police
officers.
Now come the real thanks. David Remnick, the editor of the
New Yorker, very graciously and patiently let me disappear for a
year while I was working on Blink. Everyone should have a boss
as good and generous as David. Little, Brown, the publishing
house that treated me like a prince with The Tipping Point, did
the same this time around. Thank you, Michael Pietsch, Geoff
Shandler, Heather Fain, and, most of all, Bill Phillips, who
deftly and thoughtfully and cheerfully guided this manuscript
from nonsense to sense. I am now leaning toward calling my
firstborn Bill. A very long list of friends read the manuscript in
various stages and gave me invaluable advice — Sarah Lyall,
Robert McCrum, Bruce Headlam, Deborah Needleman, Jacob