Featured on the Brain Science Podcast #24

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Product Description

The act of reading is a miracle. Every new reader's brain possesses the extraordinary capacity to rearrange itself beyond its original abilities in order to understand written symbols. But how does the brain learn to read? As world-renowned cognitive neuroscientist and scholar of reading Maryanne Wolf explains in this impassioned book, we taught our brain to read only a few thousand years ago, and in the process changed the intellectual evolution of our species.

Wolf tells us that the brain that examined tiny clay tablets in the cuneiform script of the Sumerians is configured differently from the brain that reads alphabets or of one literate in today's technology.

There are critical implications to such an evolving brain. Just as writing reduced the need for memory, the proliferation of information and the particular requirements of digital culture may short-circuit some of written language's unique contributions--with potentially profound consequences for our future.

Turning her attention to the development of the individual reading brain, Wolf draws on her expertise in dyslexia to investigate what happens when the brain finds it difficult to read. Interweaving her vast knowledge of neuroscience, psychology, literature, and linguistics, Wolf takes the reader from the brains of a pre-literate Homer to a literacy-ambivalent Plato, from an infant listening to Goodnight Moon to an expert reader of Proust, and finally to an often misunderstood child with dyslexia whose gifts may be as real as the challenges he or she faces.

As we come to appreciate how the evolution and development of reading have changed the very arrangement of our brain and our intellectual life, we begin to realize with ever greater comprehension that we truly are what we read. Ambitious, provocative, and rich with examples, Proust and the Squid celebrates reading, one of the single most remarkable inventions in history. Once embarked on this magnificent story of the reading brain, you will never again take for granted your ability to absorb the written word.

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Product Details

• Amazon Sales Rank: #188479 in Books
• Published on: 2007-09-01
• Released on: 2007-09-04
• Original language: English
• Number of items: 1
• Binding: Hardcover
• 320 pages

From Publishers Weekly
Starred Review. Wolf, a professor of child development at Tufts University, integrates psychology and archaeology, linguistics and education, history and neuroscience in a truly path-breaking look at the development of the reading brain-a complicated phenomenon that Wolf seeks to chronicle from both the early history of humanity and the early stages of an individual's development ("unlike its component parts such as vision and speech... reading has no direct genetic program passing it on to future generations"). Along the way, Wolf introduces concepts like "word poverty," the situation in which children, by age five, have heard 32 million less words than their counterparts (with chilling long-term effects), and makes time for amusing and affecting anecdotes, like the only child she knew to fake a reading disorder (attempting to get back into his beloved literacy training program). Though it could probably command a book of its own, the sizable third section of the book covers the complex topic of dyslexia, explaining clearly and expertly "what happens when the brain can't learn to read." One of those rare books that synthesizes cutting edge, interdisciplinary research with the inviting tone of a curious, erudite friend (think Malcolm Gladwell), Wolf's first book for a general audience is an eye-opening winner, and deserves a wide readership.
Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.

From The Washington Post
Reviewed by Michael Dirda

Anyone who reads is bound to wonder, at least occasionally, about how those funny squiggles on a page magically turn into "Bare ruined choirs, where late the sweet birds sang" or "After a while I went out and left the hospital and walked back to the hotel in the rain." Where did this unlikely skill called reading come from? What happens in our brain when our eyes scan a line of type? Why do some of us, or some of our children, find it difficult to process the visual information held in words?

In Proust and the Squid, Maryanne Wolf, a professor at Tufts University and director of its Center for Reading and Language Research, offers explanations for all these questions, but with an emphasis that is "more biological and cognitive than cultural-historical." This means that Wolf focuses on the physiological character of the human brain, which holds at its disposal "three ingenious design principles: the capacity to make new connections among older structures; the capacity to form areas of exquisitely precise specialization for recognizing patterns in information, and the ability to learn to recruit and connect information from these areas automatically." These "design principles" provide the neuronal foundation of reading, and Wolf spends half her book explaining the evolution and minutiae of this "reading brain."

Nearly all this material makes for very hard slogging, even though Proust and the Squid is confidently described as the author's "first book for the general public." (The catchy but utterly uninformative title, by the way, refers to the novelist's impressionistic thoughts about childhood reading and a scientist's use of the squid brain for neurological research.) A work of popularization needs a light clear style, lots of anecdotes and some plot or story line that moves along at a good clip. At times, Wolf makes a stab at including some human-interest element or personal example, but all too soon she reverts to her normal prose, which is austere, technical and, finally, wearisome:

"In a pathbreaking meta-analysis of twenty-five imaging studies of different languages, cognitive scientists from the University of Pittsburgh found three great common regions used differentially across writing systems. In the first, the occipital-temporal area (which includes the hypothesized locus of 'neuronal recycling' for literacy), we become proficient visual specialists in whatever script we read. In the second, the frontal region around Broca's area, we become specialists in two different ways -- for phonemes in words and for their meanings. In the third, the multifunction region spanning the upper temporal lobes and the lower, adjacent parietal lobes, we recruit additional areas that help to process multiple elements of sounds and meanings, which are particularly important for alphabetic and syllabary systems."

Out of context such prose sounds perfectly dreadful -- and in context sadly characteristic of the writing in professional journals, no matter what the field. In fact, everything Wolf says makes sense, the specialized terms she uses have been previously defined, and there are line illustrations on a facing page. Nonetheless, such technical onslaughts are extremely tiring to read, and Wolf seldom lets up on the information-rich barrage for very long. At different points she does quote passages from Proust and George Eliot, but even these two great novelists are hardly what you'd call sprightly, and they merely add their own specific gravity to already forbidding pages.

In the second half of the book, Wolf examines the reading difficulties generally subsumed under the term dyslexia. We learn that one of her sons suffers from this disability, that there are various forms and theories about its origin and character, that it can sometimes result in a special talent for fields that emphasize pattern and spatial creativity (such as art, design and engineering) and that "programs which systematically and explicitly teach young readers phoneme awareness and grapheme-phoneme correspondence are far more successful in dealing with reading disabilities than other programs." As this last sentence makes evident, no relief awaits the once-eager reader who by this point has begun to wonder if he could be suffering from a sudden case of adult-onset dyslexia.

Despite Wolf's failure to write a truly popular book, she clearly does know her stuff, and those professionally involved with the teaching of reading might be more patient than I. In particular, she addresses the special needs of children raised in cultures where standard English isn't the dominant language, and she speculates, with real concern, about the impact of computer culture on the "reading brain." Dyslexia has taught her that humans were never genetically designed to read, and this peculiar technique of sustained mental attention could be reduced, reconfigured or even lost in the rising digital age:

"Will unguided information lead to an illusion of knowledge, and thus curtail the more difficult, time-consuming, critical thought processes that lead to knowledge itself? Will the split-second immediacy of information gained from a search engine and the sheer volume of what is available derail the slower, more deliberative processes that deepen our understanding of complex concepts, of another's inner thought processes, and of our own consciousness?"

Wolf never fully answers these questions, though they strike me as the basis for a much needed book. Still, like any parent with a child transfixed by flashing screens, she is troubled by what she observes. She urges that we "teach our children to be 'bitextual' " or 'multitextual,' able to read and analyze texts flexibly in different ways" so that our sons and daughters don't end up as mere "decoders of information," distracted from the "deeper development of their intellectual potential." Early on in Proust and the Squid, she had noted that infants and toddlers who aren't told stories by their caregivers, who aren't read to from a very early age, nearly always fail to learn to read well themselves. By implication, it may already be too late for many young people: They will never be able to read with the same thoughtfulness and comprehension as their parents. Think about that.

Copyright 2007, The Washington Post. All Rights Reserved.

Review
"...intriguing..." -- New Scientist

"Blindingly fascinating...detailed and scholarly....There’s a lot of difficult material in here. But it’s worth the effort....For people interested in language, this is a must. You’ll find yourself focusing on words in new ways. Read it slowly--it will take time to sink in." -- The Sunday Telegraph

"Brilliant and eye-opening." -- Philadelphia Inquirer

"Everything Wolf says makes sense....She clearly knows her stuff." -- Washington Post Book World

"Fascinating....Wolf restores our awe of the human brain." -- Associated Press

"Proust and the Squid is an inspiring celebration of the science of reading....Wolf’s insights are fascinating....Proust and the Squid has much to offer on this important--perhaps the most important--subject" -- The Guardian (London)

"This humane and fascinating book...is a paean to what Proust, über-reader, called ‘that fruitful miracle of a communication in the midst of solitude,’ to all that has been and can be achieved for individuals and for mankind through literacy." -- The Evening Standard (London)

"Wolf’s alarm about the spread of semi- literacy among the young is obviously justified, and her book provokes thought about it as only reading can." -- Sunday Times (London)

"[Maryanne Wolf] displays extraordinary passion and perceptiveness concerning the reading brain, its miraculous achievements and tragic dysfunctions." -- BookForum

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Customer Reviews

Cracking a Uniquely Important Puzzle
What is it about humans that makes them so different from the other inhabitants of this planet?

It is not our big brains: many species do just fine with a much simpler model.

It is not our instincts and intuitions: many species have us beaten there as well.

And it is certainly not our empathy or compassion: we can see that those are highly developed in dozens of other species.

The real difference seems to be the way in which we can communicate information that endures. Communications that survive us and can be passed to people that we have never met.

Complex languages that were able to meld the experiences of many senses were the first step. We can tell stories that contain much more than information: they contain and evoke emotions, memories and even tastes and smells.

The second step is far more recent, and it the strange alchemy that in the last few thousand years enabled our ancestors to record, interpret and teach the significance of squiggles and scratchings.

This engaging book focuses on a question that many of us have asked at some time or other. How did we come upon the unlikely skill call reading? How did our brains achieve this extraordinary feat, working only with neurological systems that had never tried to make sense of systematized rule-based visually presented material?
And what happens in our brain when our eyes scan a line of type? Why do some of us, or some of our children, find it difficult to process the visual information locked in words?

Maryanne Wolf is a professor at Tufts University, where she directs the Center for Reading and Language Research and in this book she offers explanations for these and many other questions. The main thrust of her research is cognitive and biological so the book focuses on writing and the evolution of the brain. However, she does not ignore the cultural and historical contexts in which writing developed.

She focuses on three fundamental principles that operate throughout the human brain:
1. The capacity to make new connections among older structures
2. The capacity to form or appropriate regions of the brain that are specialized for recognizing and extracting patterns in a mass of information
3. The ability to learn to recruit and connect information from these regions of the brain
As a rider to the last point, the recruiting and connecting of different areas of the brain occurs automatically. If you think about someone you will usually be able to associate a visual image of him or her with a sound, smell and emotion. This associative process usually happens without conscious effort.

Maryanne's work indicates that these three principles of design provide the neural machinery essential to reading, and she spends some time explaining the evolution of what she calls the "reading brain." This is not a dry academic exercise: understanding the evolution of reading promises to help us make sense of problems like dyslexia, and it is her insights into that common problem that occupy the second half of the book.

She reveals that that one of her sons suffers from this disability, and discusses something not widely known. There are a number of subtypes of dyslexia, and, as is common with neurological deficits, the brain often compensates. Giving people special talent in fields that emphasize pattern recognition and spatial creativity. I knew someone with disabling dyslexia who set about building a house. Without any kind of diagrams or written plan he was able to calculate the precise amount, shape and size of the timber that would be needed. When he finished the job several months later he was left with only one two foot plank. The remainder of his calculations were spot on. And it does seem that it is the brain that bestows this kind of gift, rather than the person over-compensating for a disability.

Maryanne speaks approvingly of the extraordinary insights of one of my mentors, the late Norman Geschwind. He and a colleague did some fascinating work on a region of the brain called the planum temporale, sadly misspelled in the index. So it surprised me that she did not mention any of the work on disturbances of language with relative preservation of reading in schizophrenia, It would have been interesting to have her take on that.

So why "Proust and the Squid?" Maryanne uses the French novelist Marcel Proust as a metaphor. He believed that reading gives us access to countless different realities that would otherwise be sealed from us. The squid is to pay tribute to the creature who has given so much to neurological research.

I found the book an easy read, but I am a neuroscientist with a particular interest in thought and language, and I always try to imagine what a book might hold for a non-specialist. In places it may be a little difficult for the general reader. Before submitting this review I asked some friends to look over a few sections, and some left them slightly baffled.

I think that scientists have a responsibility to explain their work to the public that pays most of the bills. But I know from personal experience that popularization does not always come easily to people trained to write and communicate in a cautious, unemotional and reserved tone. It is different in the classroom, where the good teacher is expected to lighten up a bit, and pepper his or her teaching with humor and anecdotes. But once we start typing, our old habits return!

I mention this because Maryanne shares the concern of many, that the advent of the computer culture may lead to the atrophy of the "reading brain," which could become no more than an occasionally used device for communicating factual data stripped of all emotion. We already know that many young people fail to comprehend that the abbreviations of the text message cannot be used in school reports. "Texting" is easier and does not required sustained attention. Since humans were never genetically designed to read, such simple solutions may wreck the "reading brain." If young children are not read to, they nearly always fail to learn to read well themselves. Is it already too late for the youngest generation?

This is a fine book by a world expert. It does require a little effort, but it is well worthwhile. I particular recommend it to people who have children with dyslexia. I would also recommend it to people who have dyslexia themselves, but I do not think that an audio version is available yet.



Richard G. Petty, MD, author of Healing, Meaning and Purpose: The Magical Power of the Emerging Laws of Life

Literary, Historical, Biological, Cognitive, and Futurist Insights into Reading, Creativity, and Brain Development
I was attracted to this book by the title: What could Proust and a Squid have in common? As it turned out, squids make only two cameo appearances in the book on pages 5-6 and 226 (probably to justify the title in references to the early use of squids in neuroscience studies and for conjecture about passing along genetic traits that make survival more difficult), but Proust in pretty mainstream throughout the book as a resource and reference for describing the richness that reading can bring to individual experience.

Professor Wolf has written a multidisciplinary book that is mind-boggling in its breadth. You'll learn everything from how writing and alphabets developed to why Socrates disfavored reading to how mental processes vary among dyslexics who are reading different languages to the best ways for diagnosing and overcoming reading difficulties.

Yet unlike most multidisciplinary books, this one is very brief and compact. But that compactness is misleading; Proust and the Squid is a challenging book to read and contemplate. Only good readers with a lot of background in literature and neuroscience can probably grasp this book. What's more, there are vast numbers of references that you can pursue if you want to know more.

The writing style makes the book denser than it needed to be. Professor Wolf makes matters worse for lay readers by insisting on the correct scientific names throughout, when the ordinary names would have made the material easier to grasp. As a result, at times you'll feel like you are taking a course in disciplinary vocabulary. At other times, Professor Wolf engages in a penchant for long, abstract sentences: "What is historically humbling about Sumerian writing and pedagogy is not their understanding of morphological principles, but their realization that the teaching of reading must begin with explicit attention to the principles characteristics of oral language." This sentence could be rewritten as "Most impressively, Sumerians developed a written language that made reading easier to learn by visually reproducing what was spoken." Obviously, her rendition is more creative . . . but I like mine better.

Here is what was new to me: Reading involves complex mental processes that are not natural to the brain's earliest functions. As a result, new neural connections need to be developed in the right order if someone is to be a good reader. Various brain scan tests have illuminated this finding and those neural pathways are well illustrated and described in this book. But there are different ways that those neural connections can be made, some of which will make reading difficult.

The book's strength is in providing you with a sense of how humans learned how to develop written language and read it rapidly . . . and gain greatly from reading. The book also is good in the area of making the case for those who can't read aren't deficient, rather than are different in ways that offer other potential advantages such as creativity. If someone in your family doesn't read well, you'll love that part of the message.

Where I thought the book was weakest was in worrying about the implications of highly condensed (and possibly inaccurate) online information substituting for traditional reading of books and articles. To me, it seemed like much ado about nothing. Human curiosity will always drive forward learning, something that Professor Wolf doesn't address. Provide that curiosity with more tools and resources, and more learning will take place. Here's an example. Today I was finishing my proofreading of my latest book. In the past, I had researchers diligently check each quotation for accuracy and source. Inevitably, there would be mistakes that weren't caught and made it into my books. By using the internet to crosscheck the sources this time, I was able to do the task much better and in less time . . . correcting many mistakes in the reference sources in my library. Having had this experience, I'll probably do more seeking of quotations directly from the internet in the future . . . and that will probably improve the quality of my quotations.

Bravo, Professor Wolf!

Part Science, Part Guilt Trip
I have nothing against a good sermon. I found Barack Obama's sermon to the Democratic convention to be at least as exciting as any of Kennedy's or King's great exhortations. I do think, however, that sermons need to be preached outside the choir. The irony of writing a book to exhort non-reading parents to read more to their children is not lost on anyone, I hope.

The human brain has evolved in such a way that it can, and must, learn. That is, it is 'plastic' enough in its first years of life to program itself in response to environmental cues. In the case of learning to read, Maryanne Wolf, argues, the brains of all of us literate people have been exquisitely programmed and refined by our reading skills, developed in cahoots with our own evolution over millennia. The physical details of that programming are becoming observable through brain scans and such technology, and it's the science of brain plasticity that interested me in reading this book. I'm already quite convinced, by experience and observation, that the only way to become a skilled reader is by reading a lot, i.e. that reading is a self-programming activity long into the adolescent years. The scanting of reading - even recreational self-selected reading of ephemeral stuff like sci-fi - in schools and in the life experience of our youth these days worries me a lot. I rather hoped this book would get scientific enough to allow me to consider my opinion verified.

Alas, much more than half of Wolf's overall text is more sermon than science, and in my case she is clearly preaching to the choir. The parents whose children might profit if said parents read thsi and other books more eagerly just won't read Proust and the Squid. Period. What Wolf really has in mind is influencing public policy, persuading legislators to spend taxpayers' money on early childhood education. Her exhortation is wasted therefore, unless it has the sort of substance that will focus the voters on change and intimidate the legislators into action. It doesn't have that kind of intensity, and then it squanders the impact its early chapters may have built up by straying into vague thoughts about a fuzzy future in which "digital" info-interfacing replaces reading and jeopardizes the sophisticated programming that reading has implanted in our culture.

It's not because this is a bad book, or a badly written book, that I don't recommend it highly. Some people, I'm sure, will be delighted by its loose style and others will be educated about important insights of neuropsychology in recent years. But it's not the book it could be if its purpose were clearer and if it addressed itself to a proper audience rather than to the world at large.

Post script: Reading the comments that have followed this review, I discover that I've given some people the false impression that the "science of reading" is scanted in Proust and the Squid. There's plenty of science, and it's expressed in a form accessible to non-scientists. But it's interspersed with anecdote and homily to the point where I find it hard to assemble into a scientific understanding. Still, my three-star rating was probably too harsh; four stars would be more suitable.