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Into the Silent Land: Travels in Neuropsychology

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A blurb on the cover touts neuropsychology Professor Broks, author of this intriguing book, as "The new Oliver Sacks." While any writer on neuropathology would be flattered to be compared to the renowned Dr. Sacks, whose books include the fascinating The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat and other clinical tales (1987), I don't think such a comparison is fair to either man.

While Broks and Sacks write about the sometimes bizarre consequences of neurological disorders, they do so from a different perspective. Sacks is more tightly focused on the patient and the pathology whereas Broks concentrates more on his personal experience as a neuropsychologist and the philosophic and emotional consequences of those experiences. Furthermore, while Sacks writes with an uncommon clarity and eloquence, Broks relies on a more literary style with excursions into memoir, story (sometimes reminding me distantly of Borges), Socratic dialogue, and dream sequence.

Each chapter in the book is a personal experience essay. Some chapters recall patients with disorders, some do not. Some chapters are intensely personal, as is the final chapter on the experience of his wife's breast cancer. Others are almost completely philosophical. What can pathology, especially neuropathology, teach us about what it means to be human and to be self-aware is what Broks is asking in all of the chapters, sometimes directly, sometimes obliquely. His answer is equivocal and meandering; in short he isn't sure. I respect that because I'm not sure either, and I don't know anyone who is.

Broks begins by experiencing the pulsating brain as raw meat. He is mesmerized by the "absolute conviction" that in the flesh "behind the face" being probed by the surgeon, "there's no one there." (p. 17) This leads him to reject the "Mysterian" position on consciousness and Cartesian dualism. He excises the ghost in the machine and comes to realize that the "I" of our experience is nowhere at all, but is an ever-changing, ever constructing presence among the modules of the brain.

"Thoughts, feelings, and intentions produce me, not the other way around," is how he expresses it on page 80. He sees the "I" that experiences and reflects upon experience as "not a single thing, or a thing at all," but as "a principle of biological organization." (p. 100)

This is a profound insight from modern neuroscience and philosophy as presented by people like Francis Crick and Daniel Dennett, whom Broks cites, and others. But Broks is neither completely satisfied with this unsettling point of view, nor is he complacent to leave it at that. In my favorite chapter of the book, "To Be Two or Not to Be," Broks presents a science fiction scenario in which one is teleported to Mars. One's body is exhaustively copied on Mars from information sent from Earth. Every single atom is replicated exactly as it appears in the original and then the original is destroyed, allowing one to travel at the speed of light.

In effect this is a thought experiment asking the question "Who are you?" Are you the original or the copy? The copy assures us that he is the same continuous being that was on Earth and is now on Mars. He is the father of his children, the husband of his wife, and is the man who was once the child. He has all this in his memory. He certainly did not die. And besides he has done this a dozen times and is still alive.

But Broks throws a monkey wrench into this scenario by having the original not destroyed. Now who is who? And if the original is now to be destroyed, how does he feel about that?

What is different from the man on Earth and his identical on Mars? Absolutely nothing (although because of their now different environments they are beginning to change). Yet the original prefers that he continue living, as does the copy.

This story really highlights the Buddhist idea that we do not exist as we think we do. There is no "self," no "ego-I"; we do not die because we were never living in the sense that we think we were. What exists is pure identification, so to speak, that everybody has identically. That does not die. It is always there in a sentient being.

Broks acknowledges this Buddhist perspective, admits that in some sense he is uneasy about it; admits that in some sense, at some times, he is a Mysterian, who does believe in something non-material in ourselves. (See "Right This Way, Smiles a Mermaid" beginning on page 132.)

Another point that Broks makes is that we do not exist in isolation. "The working brain has to be understood not only as part of a larger biological system (the rest of the body), but also as a component of the wider social system." (p. 102) I would add that we are also part of this planet and its systems, and in the most minute, but real sense, part of the cosmos.

Broks believes that the familiar soul-body dualism from Decartes is hard-wired into our brains by the process of evolution. (p. 138) He also believes that "phenomenal consciousness--the raw feel of experience--is invisible to conventional scientific scrutiny and will forever remain so." (p. 140)

I agree that the idea of a soul is adaptive in an evolutionary sense. It allows for us to have hope in many seemingly hopeless situations. It furthers the adaptiveness of the tribe which furthers the adaptiveness of the members of the tribe. I also agree that such phenomena as the taste of ice cream, the experience of the color red, etc., are not subject to scientific evaluation. Science is preeminently a social exercise in that, without peer review and confirming experiments by other scientists, would not exist as such. Consequently it is futile to expect something purely subjective to find scientific proof.

Everything we know or think or feel is somehow processed within the contents of our craniums. Thoughts happen without our thinking about making them occur or about the incalculably complex neuronal interactions that would make them happen. How can it possibly happen that intracranial meat makes mentation? Check with an expert, like Paul Broks, who is a British lecturer and consultant in neuropsychology, the study of brain processes that produce thought and behavior. In _Into the Silent Land: Travels in Neuropsychology_ (Atlantic Monthly Press), he will bring you up short: "My area of supposed expertise, neuropsychology, is the subject about which I feel the most profound ignorance." He cannot satisfactorily account for how the brain generates conscious awareness. He reflects that this is something like finding out that your airplane pilot knows nothing of lift, drag, and so on. And yet, the patients he describes in his book, and his own introspection, and his fictional thought experiments are so strange that readers will be amazed that they could have ever taken themselves (or their _selves_) for granted.

The people Broks sees in his clinic are those with damaged brains of some sort, "thought experiments made flesh." This is the territory previously explored for us by Oliver Sacks, whom Broks names as an influence on his own thinking and writing. Especially illustrative are the split brain patients, those who have had the cables cut from right brain to left, usually to try to short circuit seizures. It is possible to get a sedative to one side of such brains and then to the other, so that clinicians can interview only one half-brain at a time. In such a patient, Naomi, Broks finds, "Ms Left-brain was talkative and cheerful. Ms Right-brain was unsettled, mute, morose." But Ms Left-brain afterwards was responsible for describing the entire session, and had no memory of Ms Right-brain's difficulties. This is the usual sort of sharing, and not just in patients with split brains. The left hemisphere not only is the spokesman for both, but also is "the brain's spin doctor," making odd events (such as the transient communicative ability of the right brain) comprehensible and acceptable. The left brain, quite simply, lies to make a palatable reality. We are all split up like this. Different wrinkles in the brain handle language, thoughts, memories, feelings. Broks worries: "There is no special point of convergence. No cockpit of the soul." Unity is an illusion. The brain is pretty well mapped, via MRI slices, and we have good ideas about what large parts of it do, but even if you look around a living brain, you will fine no self there; "... there is no ghost in the machine. It is time to grow up and accept this fact." But take heart; even if we exist in some mysterious emptiness between neurological components, this is itself a "... beautiful, liberating thought and nothing to be afraid of. The notion of a tethered soul is crude by comparison."

Though serious, Broks's book has a lot of fun with the paradoxes of consciousness. It is often a set of arguments for different sides of questions, with no firm answers. It is not just case studies, but includes reflections on the fate of Einstein's brain, and on the status of the "Little People" in Robert Louis Stevenson's dreams that gave the author his best work. Broks has written some whimsical stories to bring points home. Memorable is a sci-fi parable which summarizes many of the puzzling ideas Broks presents. It involves a teleporter, something like the famous one in Star Trek. For a trip to Mars, the machine scans every atom of the traveler, reduces the information to digital format, sends the data to Mars, where every atom is reconstructed. The rules of teleportation, however, decree that the sender has to be annihilated; this avoids duplication. But what happens when the machine malfunctions, sending the data for proper reconstruction, but doesn't do the vaporization of the original sender? Where is the person? How can one mind be in two places? How long before they become two different persons by having different experiences? Which one should the authorities, belatedly, vaporize? The witty story is titled "To Be Two or Not to Be". It climaxes an enigmatic and enlightening book that will give much contemplation to anyone with a brain.

This is an extraordinarily interesting book. I say this as an average reader and not as someone with training in neuropsychology or neurosurgery.

This will be of interest to anyone who is curious about life in general, but it will be greatly appealing to psychology and philosophy buffs. The book will be of special interest to anyone interested in the so-called mind-body problem.

What is the nature of our identity as individuals? Do we have a soul? What is the difference between a soul and a mind? Are we nothing more than the grey matter encaged inside our skulls? The author, Paul Broks, does not provide new or even concrete answers to these questions. But he explores them in hugely entertaining ways. This is not a dreary, poorly written book on psychology, philosophy or personally identity theory. It is an exceptionally entertaining look at the brain and how its defects can affect our personality and sense of identity.

Broks is a British neuropsychologist. He makes the book enjoyable by telling incredibly interesting tales about his patients and their problems. I would recommend this book to just about anyone, not only those people who have a background in this field. It is a pleasure to read. Moreover, at only 242 pages, most readers will be able to finish the whole book in just a couple of days. But they may be sorry when it is finished.

There's a certain morbid fascination with tales of brain disease and damage. The horror of the woman who lost 23 years in the blink of a stroke. The woman whose consciousness sometimes vanished while her body continued to go through the motions. The man who can no longer feel emotions. The man who feels too much. The man who relives the exact same emotion with every recall, like reliving a traffic accident over and over, yet can no longer read people's expressions or hear words other than literally.

British neuropsychologist Broks studies what happens to people when particular parts of their brain are damaged. He understands our morbid fascination and has made it his quest: where and what is, consciousness? And what makes us who we are? "But when it comes to understanding the relationship between the brain and the conscious mind, my ignorance is deep and there is nowhere to turn."

This is the theme of his first book of essays, a theme which deals with our worst fears - becoming someone else. Like the man who wearied of his boring suburban life and left his family and job to live a more bohemian existence. A few years later when his brain tumor was revealed and removed, he woke asking for his wife and kids.

In his pursuit of consciousness Broks also explores out-of-body experiences and dream imagery, like that which helped Robert Louis Stevenson create "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde." He provides thought experiments and ends with a sci-fi story which aptly (and entertainingly) frames the dilemma of consciousness and body and where the "I" begins and ends.

Though Broks occasionally goes on at too great a length, his unanswerable question is posed from many though-provoking, and occasionally startling, directions. Those most interested in brain physiology and behavior should stick to Oliver Sacks, those with more philosophical inclinations will definitely enjoy Broks.

In the first half of this book, Broks says of the philosopher Wittgenstein that for him 'philosophy was not so much about finding solutions to puzzles as about correcting fundamental misunderstandings.' This book could be described as following the same premise, in that it doesn't set out to give definitive answers. With its individual take on neuropsychology and what defines `the self', this a book was by turns both fascinating and frustrating.

Broks has, inevitably, been compared to Oliver Sacks, and in many regards this book is in parts similar to books written by Sacks, in that it explores interesting cases of neurological diseases or injury. Broks has taken a more idiosyncratic path, choosing to intersperse his recalling of such cases with discourses on his own opinions on neuropsychology, anecdotes from his personal life, and some fictional episodes. Sometimes these work, sometimes they don't. My favourite part of the whole book is the futuristic story about teleportation - the book is worth the price for this section alone, as it is sure to have you thinking for long after you have finished. Yet other sections - including the parts where he takes part in a conversation with a disembodied brain - don't work for me. I think that the enjoyment of this book will be down to personal taste - some people will love some sections, which will be loathed by others, and vice versa.

This book is written in a very British style, both the type of humour (of which there is much) and its 'quirky' view on life. It is much less clinical in style than you would expect from a neuropsychologist writing about his own area of expertise. Broks' honest, admitting that sometimes he despairs, often he doesn't know, and that even as a professional there are times I hope that this book is bought and read by many, as it is the type of reading that is both entertaining and very thought provoking - it will have you questioning such fundamental issues as what am i? what is the basis of existence? While not as scientifically rigorous as some of the Oliver Sacks books, it is still an important contribution to the genre of 'popular neurology writing' if there is such a thing, and would be of appeal to anyone interested in how the brain works and/or the nature of being.

The back of my copy has this blurb from the San Fran Chronicle: "In the interlocking essays that blend brilliantly recounted episodes with questioning, sometimes troubling internal meditations..."

I have to disagree. This book struck me as a jumbled piece of work. Yeah, the chapters were all written by the same guy, and generally they were about cases he dealt as a neuropsychologist, but there was no flow to the book, no organization. Each chapter/section (whatever) reads like a standalone magazine or web article - often glib, straining for effect in hopes of getting a better page count.

Also, I found many of the articles to be contrived. One was set up as a Science Fiction story and the author uses the concept of teleportation to talk about two theories of self - Ego theory and Bundle theory. In another Broks pretends to talk to a brain in a jar named Harry. In another a student brings up the idea of doing research on body modification and the author goes home and discusses the subject with his wife:

".. What might a little body art do for me? I tell my wife I am thinking of having my penis tattooed.
'What do you have in mind?'
'Woverhampton Wanderers.'
She looks at me. 'Or maybe just Wolves.'"

The chapter ends with that, a penis joke. Ugh.

Broks is apparently an accomplished neuropsychologist - he's the 'Senior Clinical Lecturer and Honorary Consultant at Derriford Hospital, Plymouth', according to the back of the book, and from the interior of the book you can tell he's seen alot of interesting cases and the book gives you some taste of that.

Overall though - he tries too hard to be clever and ends up being annoying. Which is unfortunate. There's great material here, I was just hoping for more substantive reading.

Other reviewers have noted it's unfair to compare Broks to Sachs, and I agree.

That said, per the "philosophy" angle he brings, I will compare him to somebody else - Dan Dennett.

Some of the essays in this book remind me of some of Dennett's early stuff, like in the book co-written and co-edited with Douglas Hofstadter, "The Mind's I."

Broks' tales in here are less about the patient, in part being a clinical psychologist, and more along the line of philosophical Gedankenexperimenten, or, to use Dennett's phrase, "intuition pumps."

That said, Broks is far more a poet than Dennett, and may just surpass Sacks in that regard too.

I note that this won a Guardian "First Book" award.

Please, Mr. Broks, let's follow up with a second and more.

"Into the Silent Land" was both entertaining and informative. Something you don't get very often with books on such daunting topics such as neuropsychology. Broks years of clinical research have been brought to life with a richness and provocation that impels me to search deeper, even within myself, if I have one after reading this book. I typically don't like clinical analysis, especially about brain damage, but this book was so well written, in both narrative and first person dialogue, that I was able to connect with the patients and still maintain the critique of the theories on brain, mind and consciousness. I especially enjoyed his thoughts on the "all-seeing eye" and the four-sided pyramid on the dollar bill, and how he used it to study the four side of the identity issue: brain, mind, self, and society.
My only issue was that his sense of humor and what I perceived to be sarcasm sometimes were difficult to interpret. Maybe it's the English way? Some of these I got, but some got in the way of my really understanding what side he was really on between the dualists, materialists, and mysterians. Perhaps he did that on purpose. Truly, for what I got out the text, it doesn't matter what his opinion is, that in itself would have only gotten in the way of making my own assumptions.
I first borrowed this book from the library to read, but intend to buy a copy for my future reference. I would like to read it again in a couple months.

The first half of this book is really confusing. The reader will have a hard time trying to figure out what this book is about. Is it about philosophy? Neurology? Or is it a journal? Well, the book is a little of everything and this poses a great problem. It is a very short book and so I don't think that all the above can be included in it without having a negative effect on the book's clarity, which was the case here. Some of the cases mentioned in the book are really interesting, but it was disappointing to see that not much attention was paid to them because the author always seems to drift into a separate world. The book was saved by the last fifty pages where most of the ideas start falling together to build a more coherent picture. One of the best parts of the book was the extra readings section because the author mentions many books on the subject. I just hope that the books that he mentions are a little more focused than this book.

Paul Broks' `Into the Silent Land' is a collection of essays, some with connecting themes and stories and other that seem like stand-alone essays. All deal with the deeper questions of what it means to be human in an age of advanced neuroscience research. In a time when the idea of a ghost in a machine and a soul are discarded notions, what does it mean to be an `I'. How does our mind work, when there is no central controller? These are all fascinating and unsettling questions which the author tackles with great clinical and philosophical insight. I found his premises to be reasonable, honest and not cherry-coated. His discussion of what really controls our actions, thoughts and behaviors comes closer to understanding the human condition than any other book I have read. If you looked at the human brain closely you would only find a series of similar neuronal cells passing electrical currents between cells. But when you zoom out, somehow all these simple processes create a brilliant consciousness. The author rightly points out that much complicated machinery would look simple if viewed up close and it is the complex arrangement which makes the process so advanced. The other eerie finding is that the human brain decides to act before we are conscious of the decision to act. The human mind is a self-perpetuating machine and our conscious experience of it, is simply a story that we tell ourselves to create coherence. The author delves in to these facts and comes up with stunning insights. This is a great, dark neuroscience masterpiece and I highly recommend it.