If the old saw is that you should always remember where you came from, Malcolm Gladwell has an addendum: Don’t just remember it—study it.

Gladwell’s new book, “Outliers: The Story of Success,” presents a provocative thesis on achievement: The best and brightest, he posits, are blessed with a modicum of God-given talent. Their success, though, is ultimately a product of their surroundings—their cultures’ idiosyncrasies, their religion, their school’s access to technology.

“Outliers” presents the newest Big Theory from Gladwell, who, at least commercially, has mastered the form. The style of “Outliers” is about what you’d expect from the engrossing New Yorker writer. It is filled with the same trademark mirth and telling anecdotes that have propelled two other books with Big Theories of their own—“Blink” and “The Tipping Point”—to best seller’s lists.

On presentation alone, Gladwell is a virtuoso. “Outliers,” like its predecessors, coaxes the reader through dense and diverse terrain on a glide path. You don’t have to wade into the white papers of Dutch psychologist Geert Hofstede. Gladwell will tell you what Hofstede’s work means and why it may explain a series of plane crashes involving South Korean pilots.

Hofstede tabulated a list of countries, creating something called the Power Distance Index. It attempts to quantify how deferential subordinates are to their superiors in distinct cultures. Koreans, Gladwell writes, have an especially high power distance index which leads subordinates to speak in a way that seems delicate and circumlocutious to a country with a low power distance index, such as the United States.

It can also wreak havoc in a cockpit, Gladwell writes.

“Our ability to succeed at what we do is powerfully bound up with where we’re from, and being a good pilot and coming from a high-power distance culture is a difficult mix,” Gladwell writes.

Similar gee-whizery peppers “Outliers.” The urge to continue pouring through the book is only abated by the urge to tell someone the amazing facts you’ve just had presented to you.

In one of dozens of outstanding anecdotes Gladwell uses to buffet his case, he cites a test given to two British school students, Poole and Florence. They are told of two objects—a brick and a blanket—and asked to list as many possible uses.

Poole produces a vivid, even puckish list. (For blanket he lists as one use, “As a target for shooting practice for shortsighted people.”) Florence’s list fails to move beyond the obvious and is devoid of creative flourishes.

This, Gladwell writes, is one small illustration of the folly in projecting achievement by looking at an academic scorecard. Florence, by dint of a higher IQ score, is the prodigy in his school. Poole’s IQ lags, but he is smart enough. He meets a threshold that all very successful people must, and his creativity projects much more potential.

The argument here is as slick and compelling as ever. If there is a complaint, it is almost that the author is too good, too slick in making his case. Similar complaints arose about both “Blink” and “The Tipping Point.” This is the blessing and the curse of Gladwell’s art. He can be so convincing that he leaves a reader wondering if things are a bit too pat.

This, though, is hardly a disqualifier. “Outliers” is high on entertainment value (the successes of everyone from the Beatles to Canadian hockey players are explored), provocation the X-factors that consistently make Gladwell’s work tough to put down.

Aspiring writers may want to learn more about where HE came from.