Soak Up The Zunshine
To explain "Theory of Mind," Stephen Pinker, in The Blank Slate (now a supreme bargain, at $10.88 for the paperback), uses the example of artificial intelligence researcher Rodney Brooks, who wants to built a robot capable of learning by imitation.
The robot is observing a person opening a glass jar. The person makes a number of physical motions while doing it, including wiping his brow. The robot then attempts to imitate the action. The question for the robot is, which parts of the action are important for reaching the desired goal? And then, how can the robot abstract what he learned by observation and apply it in a similar situation?
Pinker writes:
The answer is that the robot has to be equipped with an ability to see into the mind of the person being imitated, so it can infer the person's goals and pick out the aspects of behavior that the person intended to achieve the goal (underlining is mine). Cognitive scientists call this ability intuitive psychology, folk psychology, or theory of mind. (The "theory" here refers to the tacit beliefs held by a person, animal, or robot, not to the explicit beliefs of scientists.) No existing robot comes close to having this ability.
Pinker then gives another example -- the chimp Nim Chimpsky, who seemed to imitate his psychologist-trainer Laura Petitto's washing of dishes. There was an important difference:
A dish was not necessarily any cleaner after Nim rubbed it with a sponge...and if he was given a spotless dish, Nim would "wash" it just as if it were dirty. Nim didn't get the concept of "washing," namely using liquid to make something clean. He just mimicked her rubbing motion while enjoying the sensation of warm water over his fingers.
Pinker notes that chimps and other primates have "a reputation as imitators," they lack the ability people do, to replicate "another person's intent rather than going through the motions."
I used that Pinker piece as a preface to recommend an amazing book, Why We Read Fiction: Theory of Mind and the Novel, by Lisa Zunshine, who happens to be a friend of mine, but that's not at all why I'm recommending you read her. What's especially amazing about her book is what an easy-to-understand, enjoyable, and even fun read it is -- and on a topic that you'd think would be tough to wade through (although, I should warn that it's not for those whose reading is typically limited to the Grishams and James Pattersons of the book world). That said, Lisa is not snobby about Grisham, or even "Saved By The Bell":
I have already mentioned the question that I was asked once about the "slightly autistic" adolescents who choose watching TV over reading novels. In the same vein, it was suggested to me that if somebody prefers Woolf to Grisham; or Grisham to TV; or novels to computer games; or long conversations about one's feelings to discussions of basketball games, it may testify to that person's mind-reading "excellence." I find such speculations misguided no matter how I look at them. Whereas common sense suggest that the mind-reading profile of a person who prefers Woolf to Grisham must indeed be somewhat different from that of a person who prefers Grisham to Woolf, I fail to see what practical conclusions about the person's overall mind-reading "fitness" can be made from the assumption of this commonsensical difference. GIven how intensely contextual each act of mind-reading is, I would not be able to predict how a "typical" avid reader of Woolf would conduct herself in a complex social situation as opposed, say, to a "typical" avid reader of TV Guide.
Because I'm a little behind in everything right now, and because Nick Gillespie describes the book so well, and even interviewed Lisa, I'll excerpt what he wrote in Reason:
Why do we—men and women, boys and girls, Brits and Americans—read fiction in the first place?As it happens, there's a rich new book out on precisely that topic: Why We Read Fiction: Theory of Mind and the Novel, by Lisa Zunshine, who teaches English at the University of Kentucky. Zunshine is a Russian emigre who earned her Ph.D. at University of California at Santa Barbara, where she worked with two of the major players in evolutionary psychology, John Tooby and Leda Cosmides. Zunshine uses recent developments in cognitive psychology known as "Theory of Mind" to explain why human beings are drawn to both the creation and consumption of narrative texts. "Theory of Mind," writes Zunshine toward the end of her book, "is a cluster of cognitive adaptations that allows us to navigate our social world and also structures that world. Intensely social species that we are, we thus read fiction because it engages, in a variety of particularly focused ways, our Theory of Mind."
In a recent email exchange with me, she explains further. We have an "evolved cognitive predisposition to attribute states of mind to ourselves and others" that is also known as "mind-reading." "These cognitive mechanisms," writes Zunshine, "evolved to process information about thoughts and feelings of human beings, seem to be constantly on the alert, checking out their environment for cues that fit their input conditions. On some level, works of fiction manage to cheat these mechanisms into believing that they are in the presence of material that they were 'designed' to process, i.e., that they are in the presence of agents endowed with a potential for a rich array of intentional stances."
In a sense, then, we read novels about Meursault and Heathcliff, Montana Wildhack and Elizabeth Bennet, because they allow us to practice what we do elsewhere in our lives: Figure out the world by figuring out, or at least trying to figure out, what other people are thinking and feeling. Zunshine fills in the details with bravura chapters about novels with notoriously unreliable narrators (e.g., Lolita and Clarissa) and a long section on the detective novel, which underscores the desire and need to assign motives to whole casts of characters. The result is nothing less than a tour de force of cutting-edge lit-crit.
Read it, and you'll never look at fiction the same way. Her section on the detective novel is especially fascinating, by the way,
Here's a photo of Lisa from the last Human Behavior & Evolution Society conference (Hint: She's the one who's NOT Francis O'Steen). She's really pretty incredible, and is now on a Guggenheim fellowship, researching theory of mind at Yale. Actually, here's a really cute photo of Lisa, by Griet Vandermassen, author of another interesting book, Who's Afraid Of Charles Darwin.
Lisa's a typical Russian emigré underachiever, huh?...like another guy I happen to know.
I have a finger (my own) for every piece of fiction I've read in the last ten years. Any others like this out there? What does the book say about us?
Crid at November 10, 2007 8:50 AM
It seems we enjoy this exercise of theory of mind -- that we enjoy the exercise of working out what other people are thinking. This would have been a necessary survival tool evolutionarily, so it makes sense that we have an instinct, a predilection for it. I'll try to write more later, but I'm on deadline for the book and the column, and I have to run over to my neighbor's for a few hours. Lisa is actually a regular lurker here, it turns out -- she wrote to congratulate me on the book and was surprised to see the entry on her as well! I'll see if she'll pop by and leave a few comments.
Amy Alkon at November 10, 2007 9:15 AM
Here's more, from a piece she wrote for the Skeptical Inquirer:
http://findarticles.com/p/articles/mi_m2843/is_6_30/ai_n16834260
Amy Alkon at November 10, 2007 9:24 AM
Lisa just e-mailed me in response to your question, Crid. She writes:
Amy Alkon at November 10, 2007 10:27 AM
I would go so far as to suggest that some people read in order to fulfill their social hard-wiring without having to take any risks.
I have always been a bone fide bookworm, and have metamorphosed from an extremely gregarious person into a misanthrope. But the social aspect of my nature still demands fulfillment, which can often come from reading and posting on blogs like this.
I read a minimum of 20 novels and 10 works of non-fiction a year. I don't think that it makes me more or less introspective, socially well-equipped, or prone to fantasy, but that it satisfies both my need to commune with social constructs, to fill my time, and to also exercise my powers of discernment and criticism.
I think that it is obvious that a reader of novels is no more better a judge of character than someone who spends all of her free time in bars. Possibly the opposite, depending on which subculture you are examining.
But one thing I have great difficulty reading is psychological treatises. Honestly, I have tried. So, if my previous comments were totally off the topic, you can chalk it up to "novel readers being inept socially". :)
liz at November 10, 2007 10:56 AM
Read it, and you'll never look at fiction the same way.
Oddly enough, I figured this out when I was thirteen. It was after reading Brave New World Revisited and reading Frank Herbert for the first time. I think it also helped that I discovered Joseph Campbell around the same time and started writing stories of my own.
I realized that fiction is realy a portal that allowed me to explore the minds of others. For mediocre to bad authors, it is a portal into the authors mind. For really good authors, it is a portal into many minds.
The greatest coup however, was discovering what writing fiction could do for me. At first, it provided me with deeper insight into myself. As I progressed, it provided deeper insight into my perception of others. Finally, it provided insight into existing social structures and social structures that could be.
I think the last is possibly the greatest gift of good fiction. I also think that Herbert was probably it's grand master.
Crid -
I am not surprised. Most every intelligent conservative I know, eschews fiction for the most part. My dad falls into that category. The fiction that he has read and enjoyed is restricted to authors such as Gore Vidal, James Clavell and the like. I would guess that he reads about one novel a year, in spite of being a voracious reader. This seems to be a running theme with most intellectual conservatives I know. Very little fiction and that which is read, is quite plausible and realistic.
I think that this is mostly a sign that you are quite firmly grounded. Also that you have a strong fondness for common reality. You are comfortable with the status quo and prefer to live in the now and focus only on the immediate future and small adjustments, rather than sweeping social changes.
Perversely, I read a novel every week or two. While I also read a lot of non-fiction, I focus mostly on philosophy, psychology and social theory, with a smattering of hard science. I also prefer to take a very long view, from the beginnings of the Universe, to the dim reaches of the future. It's no wonder that while I appreciate most genres (can't stomach romance), I read mostly fantasy and scifi.
DuWayne at November 10, 2007 1:18 PM
I read huge amounts of fiction when I was younger; in fact, reading was how I spent much of my time, but like Crid, I rarely read novels these days, and I'm just overwhelmed with nonfiction.
The greatest coup however, was discovering what writing fiction could do for me.
I find writing nonfiction is a way I gain insight, as I do a lot of research and thinking that I might not do otherwise, and build new ideas out of the reading. That said, "theory of mind," to name just one example, doesn't directly relate to my column -- I'm just interested, so I've read up on it.
Amy Alkon at November 10, 2007 1:26 PM
...but like Crid, I rarely read novels these days, and I'm just overwhelmed with nonfiction.
I am not in the least bit surprised.
It's funny, but I actually do an untoward amount of research, into the stories I write, though I rarely share them with others. I have a powerful interest in social theory (and the mind theory) and find that fiction is a great platform for exploring different ideas. I try to avoid making it all about me though, thus the amount of reading I do on the topic. While it is impossible to avoid ones own perceptive filter altogether (impossible whether writing fiction or non), it helps to balance my own perceptions and assumptions with those of others.
DuWayne at November 10, 2007 2:27 PM
I should add that I write a lot more non-fiction, than fiction. Unless you count song lyrics, which are not really easily categorized as fiction/non.
DuWayne at November 10, 2007 2:33 PM
Interesting discussion, Amy. Several researchers agree with Pinker these days -- that human consciousness evolved as a result of early hominids attempting to make predictions about the behavior of others (both like and unlike themselves). Those who could best predict the behavior of their opponents gained an evolutionary advantage, and survived. Some speculate that later on, this ability to "place one's self in another's shoes" led to self-awareness. Steve Grand, for instance, believes that human brains are basically "prediction machines," and he is attempting to build one artificially based on that premise.
Norm Nason at November 11, 2007 12:51 AM
I've always loved the quote:
"If you decide to read just one book this year...keep very, very quiet about it!".
Jody Tresidder at November 11, 2007 7:13 AM
I know I'm a few days late to the party here, but what does Lisa have to say about those of us bookworms who like to re-read a particular work of fiction once a year or every few years? I average a book a week (fiction and non-fiction). I've been a voracious reader since I was a very small child. There are some "classics" (not necessarily in the Literary Canon sense) I happily revisit every year. If our mind has already navigated a particular social world, do we get anything other than pure pleasure out of this exercise?
Rebecca at November 13, 2007 9:12 AM
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