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Mind is the matter

READERS can’t get enough, it seems, of books about the mind and the brain.
They are, after all, that publisher’s dream: books about ourselves. We may
struggle with tracts on consciousness, hoping to uncover a meaning to our
lives—or we may do it to be thoroughly diverted by puzzles such as “Who is
this ‘I’ that has the impression of reading that ‘self’ is an illusion?”. Maybe
brain books these days promise a kind of self-discovery—a respectable form
of self-help.

We lap up books on memory to understand our own personal windows on the past.
We gorge on cognition, vision, movement—even books on quirky neurological
disorders that we’re lucky enough not to have—to try to figure out the
riddle of who we are and what makes us tick. And while psychologists see selves,
neurologists see nerves and zoologists see behaviours.

Susan Greenfield has caught this wave. This year she has produced two books
about the brain, written from her standpoint as an Oxford neurologist. Like her
previous two books on the brain, both take in the big picture. Her talent isn’t
so much coming up with bold new explanations, as explaining major discoveries in
the field in a way that’s clear and relevant. Greenfield numbers among the best
known media figures in Britain.

Indeed one book, the beautifully illustrated Brain Story (BBC
Worldwide, £17.99, ISBN 0563551089), comes from her BBC television series.
Its topics—nature and nurture, memory, drugs and emotions—are all
seductive in their own right. Don’t bank on skipping a chapter or two, either,
as Greenfield is adept at luring the reader to stay with her.

“Gordon Claridge was in Wonderland. A clinical psychologist at Oxford
University, fascinated by troubled minds, he had been eager to try out for
himself the mind-bending, and, back then in the 1960s, still legal drug LSD
(lysergic acid diethylamide). Under the influence, Claridge was stunned to
discover that only so long as he sat perfectly still would the world remain
reassuringly the same size, with a consistent appearance from one moment to the
next. Once he stood up, he had the impression that he was up against the
ceiling, very tall, while his assistant had become a midget.” Think you can skim
past that?

Greenfield’s other offering, The Private Life of the Brain (Penguin,
£18.99, ISBN 0713991925), takes similar bold themes: for example, the
child, the junkie and the depressive. Her cell-centred approach comes through in
her theory of how depression is the result of an overactive mind. If neurons
within the brain connect too densely to others, she says, sensory experiences
don’t get their due attention and the mind turns inward. Either book makes a
wonderful neuroscience primer. Both are digestible, but by no means baby
food.

More textbookish is The Evolution of Cognition (MIT Press,
£32.95, ISBN 0262082861), edited by Cecilia Heyes of University College
London and Ludwig Huber of the University of Vienna. It’s a collection of
articles by top names such as zoologist Patrick Bateson, primate psychologist
Robin Dunbar and evolutionary anthropologist Michael Tomasello. It deals not
just with human cognition but the whole spectrum of processes by which creatures
acquire knowledge. Much of the work is intrinsically interesting—the fact
that ravens can predict the consequence of actions they’ve never performed, for
instance, or the rules of gossip. This is definitely a book for a hardback
chair, however. You won’t want to curl up with it in bed.

Brave New Mind by Peter Dodwell (Oxford University Press, £25,
ISBN 0195089057) is an easier read. Dodwell enthusiastically leads the reader
through the history of thinking on cognition. But be warned: that thinking can
be hard going. Dodwell is an experimental psychologist at Queen’s University in
Kingston, Ontario, and he speaks with authority. Though his name was unfamiliar
to me, I trusted him almost immediately. Maybe it’s the way he cockily dismisses
from the outset many of the 1990s’ media sweethearts: “The ideas expressed in
the latest writings of, for instance, Dawkins, Dennett, Hofstadter, Searle, and
Pinker, to mention some very prominent examples, are not directly addressed.
Ingenious as these presentations are, they propose little that is fundamentally
different —of new metaphysical substance one might say.”

Dodwell argues that cognitive scientists have taken too restricted a view of
the mind. He accuses them of concentrating too much on the brain’s
routines—perception, memory, problem-solving. He derides “algorithmic”
models which treat such routines as if they are the kind of symbol shuffling
employed by computers. “This is like pinning a butterfly to the board, examining
its special morphological features, classifying it, and giving it a name,” he
says. “All these are useful and important matters, but they do not come anywhere
close to the heart of what it is to be a butterfly.”

Not enough attention is paid to the “highlights”, he says. What of
creativity? What of ideals and imagination and inspiration? To really understand
the human mind, these elements must be explored.

The “hard problem” with brains and minds is to explain how physical processes
inside your skull can lead to the experience of a self.

For some, this is a pseudo-problem: the self is an illusion. In
Consciousness Explained (Penguin, £9.99, ISBN 01401028670),
philosopher Daniel Dennett develops artificial intelligence-researcher Marvin
Minsky’s “pandemonium”: perceptions and recollections compete, and consciousness
is made of the winners. Neurologist Antonio Damasio develops the observation
that consciousness only emerges after action in Descartes’ Error: Emotion,
reason, and the human brain(Papermac, £12, ISBN 0333656563).

Others concentrate on understanding the physical processes. Neurologist Susan
Greenfield is one, as is linguist Steven Pinker’s How the Mind Works
(Penguin, £9.99, ISBN 0140244913). Douglas
Hofstadter builds computer models of Fluid Concepts and Creative
Analogies (Penguin, £14.99, ISBN 0140258353).

Mathematical physicist Roger Penrose argues in The Emperor’s New
Mind (Oxford University Press, £8.99, ISBN 0192861980) that
computation just won’t hack it, and invokes quantum effects. Philosopher David
Chalmers is also sceptical about computation, and he’s gathered the mother of
all reading lists at www.u.arizona.edu/~chalmers/

But don’t take my word for what they think. I’m sure I’m an illusion. You’ll
have to read them yourself.

You’ll have heard of Broca’s area in the brain, galvanometers and the
Hippocratic oath. But who was Broca, or Galvani, or indeed Hippocrates? Stanley
Finger’s Minds Behind the Brain (Oxford University Press, £24.99,
ISBN 019508571X), looks at the lives and discoveries of some of neuroscience’s
greats. With more than a dozen on the roster, it is a quick trip across time. I
found it a bit cursory, but what is there is informative and enlightening.

Can stress make you sick? Can believing make you well? These are two
questions that get full-chapter answers in The Balance Within: the science
connecting health and emotions by Esther Sternberg (W. H. Freeman,
£15.95, ISBN 0716734796). To put you out of your misery: yes and yes. It’s
a bit of a wade at times, but Sternberg is dedicated to explaining how the brain
really can influence your health, and vice versa.

Back out, this time in paperback, is Howard Kushner’s A Cursing Brain?:
The histories of Tourette syndrome (Harvard University Press, £11.50,
ISBN 0674003861). Does the archetype of it as a foul-language syndrome obscure
what’s really going on? And is that determined by stress, or genetically, or
linked to infection? In a pleasant blend of storytelling, medicine and history,
Kushner relates the history of this still-misunderstood disorder.

Who thinks what?

Brain bits and pieces

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