Did anyuone else get that strange frisson when the author switched meanings of ventral and dorsal half way through?
On Wed, Sep 08, 2010 at 10:19:35PM -0600, Victoria Hughes wrote: > > This post from Jonah Lehrer at Wired discusses the different > processing systems our brains use to read print and screen versions > of text, and offers choices for format, given how we want to > interact with the text, or have our readers interact. > Lehrer has written two books on neuroscience: > How We Decide, and Proust was a Neuroscientist. > The Future Of Reading | Wired Science | Wired.com > > The Future Of Reading > By Jonah Lehrer September 8, 2010 | 10:59 pm | Categories: > Frontal Cortex > I think it’s pretty clear that the future of books is digital. I’m > sure we’ll always have deckle-edge hardcovers and mass market > paperbacks, but I imagine the physical version of books will soon > assume a cultural place analogous to that of FM radio. Although the > radio is always there (and isn’t that nice?), I really only use it > when I’m stuck in a rental car and forgot my auxilliary input cord. > The rest of the time I’m relying on shuffle and podcasts. > > I love books deeply. I won’t bore you with descriptions of my love > other than to say that, when I moved back from England, I packed 9 > pounds of clothes and 45 pounds of books. (I have a weakness for > British covers.) And when my luggage was over the fifty pound > airline limit, I started chucking T-shirts. > > So I’m nervous about the rise of the Kindle and the Nook and the > iBookstore. The book, after all, is a time-tested technology. We > know that it can endure, and that the information we encode in > volutes of ink on pulped trees can last for centuries. That’s why we > still have Shakespeare Folios and why I can buy a 150 year old book > on Alibris for 99 cents. There are so many old books! > > And yet, I also recognize the astonishing potential of digital texts > and e-readers. For me, the most salient fact is this: It’s never > been easier to buy books, read books, or read about books you might > want to buy. How can that not be good? > > That said, I do have a nagging problem with the merger of screens > and sentences. My problem is that consumer technology moves in a > single direction: It’s constantly making it easier for us to > perceive the content. This is why your TV is so high-def, and your > computer monitor is so bright and clear. For the most part, this > technological progress is all to the good. (I still can’t believe > that people watched golf before there were HD screens. Was the ball > even visible? For me, the pleasure of televised golf is all about > the lush clarity of grass.) Nevertheless, I worry that this same > impulse – making content easier and easier to see – could actually > backfire with books. We will trade away understanding for > perception. The words will shimmer on the screen, but the sentences > will be quickly forgotten. > > Let me explain. Stanislas Dehaene, a neuroscientist at the College > de France in Paris, has helped illuminate the neural anatomy of > reading. It turns out that the literate brain contains two distinct > pathways for making sense of words, which are activated in different > contexts. One pathway is known as the ventral route, and it’s direct > and efficient, accounting for the vast majority of our reading. The > process goes like this: We see a group of letters, convert those > letters into a word, and then directly grasp the word’s semantic > meaning. According to Dehaene, this ventral pathway is turned on by > “routinized, familiar passages” of prose, and relies on a bit of > cortex known as visual word form area (VWFA). When you are a reading > a straightforward sentence, or a paragraph full of tropes and > cliches, you’re almost certainly relying on this ventral neural > highway. As a result, the act of reading seems effortless and easy. > We don’t have to think about the words on the page. > > But the ventral route is not the only way to read. The second > reading pathway – it’s known as the dorsal stream – is turned on > whenever we’re forced to pay conscious attention to a sentence, > perhaps because of an obscure word, or an awkward subclause, or bad > handwriting. (In his experiments, Dehaene activates this pathway in > a variety of ways, such as rotating the letters or filling the prose > with errant punctuation.) Although scientists had previously assumed > that the dorsal route ceased to be active once we became literate, > Deheane’s research demonstrates that even fluent adults are still > forced to occasionally make sense of texts. We’re suddenly conscious > of the words on the page; the automatic act has lost its > automaticity. > > This suggests that the act of reading observes a gradient of > awareness. Familiar sentences printed in Helvetica and rendered on > lucid e-ink screens are read quickly and effortlessly. Meanwhile, > unusual sentences with complex clauses and smudged ink tend to > require more conscious effort, which leads to more activation in the > dorsal pathway. All the extra work – the slight cognitive frisson of > having to decipher the words – wakes us up. > > So here’s my wish for e-readers. I’d love them to include a feature > that allows us to undo their ease, to make the act of reading just a > little bit more difficult. Perhaps we need to alter the fonts, or > reduce the contrast, or invert the monochrome color scheme. Our eyes > will need to struggle, and we’ll certainly read slower, but that’s > the point: Only then will we process the text a little less > unconsciously, with less reliance on the dorsal pathway. We won’t > just scan the words – we will contemplate their meaning. > > My larger anxiety has to do with the sprawling influence of > technology. Sooner or later, every medium starts to influence the > message. I worry that, before long, we’ll become so used to the > mindless clarity of e-ink – to these screens that keep on getting > better – that the technology will feedback onto the content, making > us less willing to endure harder texts. We’ll forget what it’s like > to flex those ventral muscles, to consciously decipher a literate > clause. And that would be a shame, because not every sentence should > be easy to read. > > Bonus point: I sometimes wonder why I’m only able to edit my own > writing after it has been printed out, in 3-D form. My prose will > always look so flawless on the screen, but then I read the same > words on the physical page and I suddenly see all my clichés and > banalities and excesses. Why is this the case? Why do I only notice > my mistakes after they’re printed on dead trees? I think the same > ventral/dorsal explanation applies. I’m so used to seeing my words > on the screen – after all, I wrote them on the screen – that seeing > them in a slightly different form provides enough tension to awake > my ventral stream, restoring a touch of awareness to the process of > reading. And that’s when I get out my red pen. > > Bonus bonus point: Perhaps the pleasure of reading on my Kindle – > it’s so light in the hand, with such nicely rendered fonts – > explains why it has quickly become an essential part of my sleep > routine. The fact that it’s easier to read might explain why it’s > also easier for me to fall asleep. > > > > Read More http://www.wired.com/wiredscience/frontal-cortex#ixzz0z0Dm3O8X > ============================================================ > FRIAM Applied Complexity Group listserv > Meets Fridays 9a-11:30 at cafe at St. John's College > lectures, archives, unsubscribe, maps at http://www.friam.org -- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Prof Russell Standish Phone 0425 253119 (mobile) Mathematics UNSW SYDNEY 2052 [email protected] Australia http://www.hpcoders.com.au ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ============================================================ FRIAM Applied Complexity Group listserv Meets Fridays 9a-11:30 at cafe at St. John's College lectures, archives, unsubscribe, maps at http://www.friam.org
