Today’s book is called The Second Mountain, written by Arthur C. Brooks, a professor at Harvard Business School. To introduce this book, let me start with a story. One time, Brooks was on a plane and overheard a conversation between an elderly couple in the seats behind him. The husband was complaining to his wife, saying that he was useless and that no one needed him anymore. His wife, clearly tired of hearing such self-deprecating remarks, tried to comfort him, telling him not to speak like that.
At this point, Brooks couldn’t help but imagine the whole life of the husband: he had worked diligently for most of his life, but had not achieved much. Now, as he got older, like many around him, he was disappointed in himself, and perhaps had never really fulfilled any dreams.
But when it was time to disembark, the man stood up, and Brooks took a glance at him. To his surprise, the elderly man was none other than a famous figure in the United States, well-known and admired by many. Not only had he been successful in his career, but he was a cultural icon for an entire generation. Brooks couldn’t fathom that such a person could feel so disappointed in himself. As the man walked down the aisle, many passengers recognized him, and even the captain came to greet him, saying that he had admired him since childhood. It was only then that the elderly man smiled, as though the golden days of his past had returned.
Why would such a successful and well-known person think so poorly of himself? Brooks was surprised, but then he realized that the man wasn’t just whining. His feelings of disappointment were likely shared by many middle-aged people. Brooks himself was at the peak of his career at the time. He was a well-known leadership lecturer at Harvard Business School and also the CEO of a large think tank, managing a large research team whose work often influenced U.S. government decisions. Yet privately, he often felt overwhelmed. Brooks was 48 years old at the time, which, while still young for his position, made him feel as if he was on the decline.
After meeting that famous older man on the plane, Brooks couldn’t shake off his worries and confusion about the midlife crisis. He wanted to understand what was causing his own feelings of dissatisfaction and what could help him overcome this slump and regain his sense of purpose. These questions became the inspiration for writing The Second Mountain. Starting with the social sciences, Brooks delved into literature from neuroscience, philosophy, and history, studied the biographies of important historical figures, and interviewed hundreds of leaders, from hardware store owners to heads of state. He developed a theory. In his view, the so-called midlife crisis is actually an opportunity, a chance to transition from the “first curve” of life to the “second curve.” Successfully making this switch is the key for a middle-aged person to overcome the crisis.
So, what do Brooks’ “first curve” and “second curve” mean? And how can we make this switch and embark on the second half of our lives? Let’s now look at Brooks’ research findings.
In the book, Brooks’ first conclusion is that a mid-life career decline is an extremely common and nearly unavoidable situation. This conclusion is backed by a large amount of statistical data.
First, a very obvious example is athletes. Data shows that athletes in explosive sports typically reach their career peak between the ages of 20 and 27, while endurance athletes tend to reach their peak a little later, but still within a few years. Brooks interviewed many professional athletes, and they generally believe that 30 is a critical age, and it’s best to transition to a new career before then. This conclusion may not surprise you, but what about intellectual labor?
A professor from the Kellogg School of Management at Northwestern University surveyed the careers of major inventors and Nobel laureates over the past century. He found that the greatest scientific breakthroughs were generally achieved by scientists in their 30s, and after the age of 40, the likelihood of making significant achievements steadily declined. Paul Dirac, the physicist born in the early 20th century, is a typical example. He earned his Ph.D. at 24, published The Principles of Quantum Mechanics at 28, and won the Nobel Prize in Physics at 31, but after that, his research was more about refining his earlier work, and he never achieved the same groundbreaking results as in his youth. He even wrote a sad little poem lamenting that after turning 30, he stopped making significant contributions. Another survey of contemporary researchers showed that, while they tend to reach their career peak later than Dirac’s generation due to the longer knowledge accumulation required for major scientific discoveries, their peak age has now stabilized since 1985: for physicists, it’s around 50; for chemists, 46; and for pharmacologists, 45.
Beyond the field of research, the situation is similar for other intellectual workers. Writers tend to produce their best work between the ages of 40 and 55. Financial professionals reach their peak performance between the ages of 36 and 46. Doctors’ skills also peak in their 30s and then gradually decline. Recently, a study of malpractice lawsuits in Canada found that the error rate for physicians over the age of 65 was 50% higher than that for physicians under the age of 51.
What about entrepreneurs? Their personal wealth and influence may indeed grow with age, but statistics show that their most creative years actually coincide with the peak age for athletes, in their 20s. Harvard Business Review conducted a survey and found that most entrepreneurs who secured over $1 billion in venture capital were between the ages of 20 and 34. Another study was a bit more optimistic, suggesting that entrepreneurs’ prime years could extend to around 45, but even so, the most optimistic estimate is that only 5% of successful entrepreneurs are over 60 years old.
In addition, Brooks also examined professions such as police officers, nurses, engineers, clerks, musicians, and so on, and found similar statistical patterns. The overall conclusion is that nearly everyone in any profession experiences some form of career decline between the ages of 35 and 50. On average, a person in a creative profession reaches their career peak after about 20 years of work. This seems to be an unavoidable, objective reality.
By now, you might think that this conclusion is a bit pessimistic. Let me add two things. First, statistical data only reflects overall trends, and there may be exceptions to these trends in every individual’s case. Second, Brooks didn’t write this book to make readers feel discouraged. On the contrary, he hopes we can face the challenges of mid-life directly and prepare ourselves early. When changes need to be made, we should respond actively. So, how can we do that? Let’s move on.
Faced with the inevitable career decline that seems to come sooner or later, what choices do we have? In his book, Brooks cites three historical figures as examples.
The first is the biologist Charles Darwin, whom we all know. Darwin is widely considered one of the most important thinkers of all time. However, what you may not know is that later in life, Darwin was often disheartened by his career decline. At the age of 22, he embarked on the Beagle voyage around the world, and by 27, he proposed the theory of natural selection. Afterward, he continued to develop his theory and finally published On the Origin of Species at the age of 50, thereby truly making his mark in the history of science. However, after that, Darwin’s research saw no significant breakthroughs. From a historical perspective, what is most regretful is that Darwin missed a crucial scientific discovery of his time. Darwin’s On the Origin of Species was published in 1859, and just around that time, the Austrian scientist Gregor Mendel — the priest who conducted pea plant experiments that you might remember from high school biology — discovered the basic laws of genetics. This was the very intellectual breakthrough that Darwin needed to advance his theory. Unfortunately, Mendel’s influence at the time was small, and his paper was published in a relatively obscure German journal, so Darwin never had the opportunity to read it. For the next 20 years, Darwin struggled to find a breakthrough in his theory. Although the scientific community gradually accepted his ideas and his reputation soared, he was forever troubled by the stagnation of his research. This sense of decline haunted him until his death.
If Darwin’s response to career decline could be seen as dignified, the later years of another scientist, Linus Pauling, were much more difficult to assess. In history, Pauling is the only person to have won Nobel Prizes in two different fields. Born in 1901, like most researchers of his time, he made his most significant scientific breakthroughs in his 20s and 30s. His magnum opus, The Nature of the Chemical Bond, is a timeless classic in the history of chemistry, and he was awarded the Nobel Prize in Chemistry at 53 for his contributions to the field. Not long afterward, in 1963, Pauling received the Nobel Peace Prize for his active involvement in the anti-nuclear movement. For a time, this scholar, who had long been immersed in his laboratory, enjoyed great fame. However, in reality, he had not made any substantial scientific progress in at least 20 years. Likely unable to cope with the loneliness after the public’s attention waned, Pauling’s ideas grew increasingly extreme in his later years. He began promoting unscientific medical treatments, becoming a figure seen as an irrational eccentric by the academic community.
In response to his career decline, Darwin chose to stay the course, silently enduring the loneliness of lost opportunities, while Pauling projected his inner frustration onto the world, creating a broader negative impact. But were there any more positive examples? Brooks also analyzes the case of a famous historical figure in his book — the musician Johann Sebastian Bach.
Today, we all know that Bach is one of the greatest musicians in history. Yet, in his time, his fame was overshadowed by later generations. As a composer, Bach gained early recognition, but the Baroque style he excelled at composing was considered outdated by the people of his era. On the other hand, his son, Carl Philipp Emanuel Bach, gained fame for composing more fashionable new classical music, quickly overtaking his father to become the most respected musician in the family. For over a century after Bach’s death, people rated his son more highly than Bach himself. When Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven spoke of Bach, they were referring to the younger Bach, not the elder. But over a century after his death, people began rediscovering his works, and among them, one of the most admired is his The Art of Fugue, which he composed in his later years. Interestingly, The Art of Fugue was actually a demonstration piece that Bach created to teach his children the techniques of composition. After his early achievements were overshadowed by his son’s fame, Bach was not troubled. He was proud of his son’s success and chose to become a music teacher, supporting his children’s musical careers with the knowledge and experience he had accumulated. Bach had 20 children, 10 of whom lived to adulthood, and four of them became composers, leaving behind enduring works. Bach spent his later years happily surrounded by his children, continuing to explore the possibilities of fugues and canons, delighting in his children’s achievements, and eventually passing away peacefully. A century later, his works gained widespread acclaim, and many of his greatest masterpieces were born during his years of teaching music to his children.
In Brooks’ view, Darwin, Pauling, and Bach represent three different responses to career decline in middle age. Darwin clung to the path where he had once achieved success, trying to reverse the decline through hard work. Pauling turned to the medical field, in which he lacked deep expertise, and in his pursuit of fame and fortune, he became a caricature of himself, unfortunately becoming the subject of ridicule. Bach, on the other hand, calmly redefined his career path in his later years, transitioning from a creator to a mentor, and, while helping his children succeed, unexpectedly won great acclaim for his work from future generations.
What did Bach do right? Why didn’t Darwin and Pauling get what they wanted?
How can we make this shift?
In the latter part of the book, Brooks provides several suggestions. Let’s take a look at each of them.
First, to make the leap onto the second curve, we must let go of our attachment to the first curve. This is a typical mindset for many people facing a midlife crisis. In the first half of their lives, they worked hard and achieved considerable success. But when their career starts to decline, their reaction is to hold on tightly to the helm of the sinking ship, trying with ten times more effort to return to their peak. This fighting spirit is, of course, admirable. However, it cannot reverse the decline of fluid intelligence. Instead, it locks them into the first curve, which no longer has room for growth, and they miss the opportunity to switch tracks. This choice not only stagnates their career but also traps them in a workaholic mindset, making it difficult to balance work and life.
Brooks believes that people in this situation need to overcome a harmful mindset of self-objectification. “Self-objectification” refers to treating oneself as a means to achieve success, making excellence a part of their self-identity. People who self-objectify set unrealistic standards for themselves, driven by an addiction to their past accomplishments. To break free from this internal struggle, Brooks suggests consciously leaving aside one’s professional identity in conversations with others, focusing on one’s role as a family member, and talking more about personal interests and emotional perspectives. When we no longer define ourselves by our professional success, it becomes easier to let go of the first curve.
Next, Brooks advises us to pay attention to cultivating meaningful personal relationships. This might seem like a career-related suggestion, but Brooks emphasizes not just professional networking, but true friendships where deep emotions and ideas can be shared. He references Aristotle’s views on friendship in his famous work Nicomachean Ethics. Aristotle categorizes friendship into a hierarchy. At the bottom is the utilitarian friendship, which refers to relationships that offer practical benefits. Above that is the friendship of pleasure, where friends share mutual joys. At the highest level is Aristotle’s ideal of perfect friendship, where friends genuinely wish each other well and share deep, transcendent topics such as virtue and truth. At this level, friendship transcends worldly gain and becomes a bridge connecting two souls.
Why does establishing deep personal relationships help us make the shift to the second curve? Brooks explains that the development of crystallized intelligence is based on deep social interactions. Without high-quality social networks, the expression of wisdom has no outlet. In the pursuit of career achievements in the first half of life, people often neglect these non-instrumental relationships. To engage in more profound exchanges, Brooks himself regularly hosts tea parties with his wife, inviting friends from various walks of life to dinner. During these gatherings, they discuss topics unrelated to real-life concerns, such as the nature of love and happiness. While this might seem odd to some guests, the sincere friendships they have formed make the effort worthwhile.
At the end of the book, Brooks also suggests that those going through a midlife crisis should accept it gracefully, even exposing their weaknesses openly. This is a difficult task for those who have strived for excellence for decades. However, according to Brooks’ experience, revealing one’s weaknesses can sometimes lead to unexpected breakthroughs. Brooks shares a story about a friend of his, a psychologist who went blind in middle age due to declining vision. Initially, he avoided discussing it, but one day, a public figure in severe psychological crisis sought him out. This person felt comfortable confiding in him because the blind therapist made her feel safe. As a result, Brooks’ friend provided counseling and later founded an organization to serve people with similar needs. Accepting his own weakness helped him unlock a new career path in the second half of his life.
Brooks himself had a similar experience. As we’ve mentioned, Brooks is a distinguished scholar with a high reputation in American social sciences. However, during the early part of his career, he kept a secret. Unlike other elite scholars, Brooks did not receive conventional higher education; he only obtained his degree through correspondence courses around the age of 30. For a long time, he felt inferior because of this, and even after becoming the CEO of a large think tank, he feared that his lack of formal academic credentials would undermine the authority of the think tank. He kept quiet about his academic background. However, years later, a project led by philanthropists, including Bill Gates, was launched to provide higher education opportunities to students who could not afford traditional tuition fees. When the announcement came out, nearly the entire U.S. education sector criticized the project. At that moment, Brooks bravely stepped forward and published an article in The New York Times, revealing his past and sharing how correspondence education had changed his life. After the article was published, Brooks received over a thousand friendly letters from readers. They praised his courage and expressed how inspiring it was that someone from an ordinary background could achieve such academic success. From then on, Brooks was able to shed the inferiority that had plagued him for decades. He also realized that revealing one’s weaknesses can sometimes release powerful energy, and weaknesses can become points of connection between people.
Here, we’ve shared the main content of “The Second Mountain” by Arthur C. Brooks. Now, let’s briefly summarize:
“The Second Mountain” is a representative work by Arthur C. Brooks, a professor at Harvard Business School, which addresses how to navigate a midlife crisis. In the book, Brooks presents a wealth of statistical data that reveals the macro trend of career decline. He then focuses on the cases of three historical figures—Darwin, Bowen, and Bach—to illustrate three common responses to a midlife crisis. Brooks argues that Darwin and Bowen fell into career lows after their peaks because they continued to rely on fluid intelligence, which had started to decline, while Bach successfully switched to the “second curve” of crystallized intelligence.
To successfully transition from the first curve to the second, Brooks suggests that we overcome a mindset of self-objectification, cultivate deep friendships, and stop hiding our weaknesses. When a middle-aged person can face the decline of their career with grace, leverage their crystallized intelligence, and build meaningful connections with others, they open up a new, expansive chapter in the second half of life.
We hope this book can help relieve some psychological burdens for you or those around you.
