I hadn’t been reviewing for very long, when I was invited to contribute to the book recommendation site, Shiny New Books. Honoured as I was, I didn’t feel ready back then, but kept it in mind. After Victoria posted a lovely early review of Sugar and Snails on the site and hosted my guest post on writing about secrets, I resolved to keep an eye out for suitable books to review. I’m pleased to announce that my reviews of The Social Brain and Playthings were accepted for the latest edition so if you’re satisfied with the easy answer to my question you can go straight to the reviews by clicking on the images. But if you’d like to discover another connection, then read on.
 |  |
When I was studying psychology in the late 1970s, there was hardly an expression sweeter to my inquiring mind than “confederate of the experimenter”. These were the actors masquerading as research subjects without whom Milgram would not have been able to show how willing people were to give others electric shocks if instructed to do so by an authority figure; Asch that people will knowingly give the incorrect answer if others seem convinced it’s right and Schacter and Singer might not have discovered that, in the absence of other cues than autonomic arousal, people deduce their own emotional states from the behaviour of those around them.
The intervening years have witnessed a significant, and appropriate, tightening of ethical guidelines whereby such levels of deception are virtually taboo. I wondered – albeit without following the field very closely – whether social psychology might become less exciting as a result. Psychology overall is open to criticism for shining a torch on what can be investigated rather than on what we need to know. I’m pleased to say that Richard Crisp’s highly accessible overview of recent research into cultural diversity has not only revitalised my interest in social psychology but is highly relevant to how we all live today. I touched on one of his papers in my recent post on Looking at difference, embracing diversity. The Social Brain develops those ideas in more depth and detail.
Playthings is the story of a man who wants to go home, but can’t. Paul Schreber is crippled by an illness he can’t understand; unluckily for him, the professionals tasked to help him don’t do much better. Based on the true story of a High Court judge who was the subject of one of Freud’s most important case studies, Alex Pheby’s second novel is a poignant and engaging exploration of a disturbed mind. As well as addressing the potential psychological causes, the author considers the potential sociocultural influences, including the rise of fascism.
And that, Dear Reader, takes me, particularly via Adorno’s work on the authoritarian personality, to my own studies of social psychology, as well as those that have influenced Crisp. As The Social Brain also references Freud, there’s a third connection between these two books I’ve reviewed. (But don’t worry, I manage to avoid over linking in my reviews on Shiny.)
Furthermore, I don’t know about you, but I always read the acknowledgements in a novel – oh look, another link, must be to mine! – mostly out of bog standard nosiness. But Alex Pheby’s was especially interesting. Is it an indictment of the creative writing industry or of publishing in general that the author should thank his publishers (Galley Beggar Press) for taking “the brave step of publishing this difficult book”? Difficult for whom, I wonder, certainly not for readers. This is rather too reminiscent of the strange case of the angry woman character.
The intervening years have witnessed a significant, and appropriate, tightening of ethical guidelines whereby such levels of deception are virtually taboo. I wondered – albeit without following the field very closely – whether social psychology might become less exciting as a result. Psychology overall is open to criticism for shining a torch on what can be investigated rather than on what we need to know. I’m pleased to say that Richard Crisp’s highly accessible overview of recent research into cultural diversity has not only revitalised my interest in social psychology but is highly relevant to how we all live today. I touched on one of his papers in my recent post on Looking at difference, embracing diversity. The Social Brain develops those ideas in more depth and detail.
Playthings is the story of a man who wants to go home, but can’t. Paul Schreber is crippled by an illness he can’t understand; unluckily for him, the professionals tasked to help him don’t do much better. Based on the true story of a High Court judge who was the subject of one of Freud’s most important case studies, Alex Pheby’s second novel is a poignant and engaging exploration of a disturbed mind. As well as addressing the potential psychological causes, the author considers the potential sociocultural influences, including the rise of fascism.
And that, Dear Reader, takes me, particularly via Adorno’s work on the authoritarian personality, to my own studies of social psychology, as well as those that have influenced Crisp. As The Social Brain also references Freud, there’s a third connection between these two books I’ve reviewed. (But don’t worry, I manage to avoid over linking in my reviews on Shiny.)
Furthermore, I don’t know about you, but I always read the acknowledgements in a novel – oh look, another link, must be to mine! – mostly out of bog standard nosiness. But Alex Pheby’s was especially interesting. Is it an indictment of the creative writing industry or of publishing in general that the author should thank his publishers (Galley Beggar Press) for taking “the brave step of publishing this difficult book”? Difficult for whom, I wonder, certainly not for readers. This is rather too reminiscent of the strange case of the angry woman character.
 | I hope you’ll agree that my reading year has got off to a great start with a dozen (mostly) great books reviewed so far. Click on the image to catch up with any you might have missed. |
I’d planned to finish there but – great minds etc – it turns out that Charli Mills also has blogged this week about connections, with an invitation to write a 99-word story about how a community reaches out. Now, I appreciate my communities of fellow writers, and am pleased to join the community of Shiny book recommenders but, right now, my local music-making community is at the forefront of my mind. This weekend, I’ll be on a course to learn to sing Beethoven’s Missa Solemnis prior to a concert the following Saturday. I feel so lucky that, despite my imperfect pitch, I’m able to take part, all thanks to a truly amazing woman who, thirty-odd years ago, well before such things were in vogue, founded an organisation to make music that would be open to everyone. This isn’t quite how I joined them, but it does represent how grateful I am for the welcome I’ve had there.
The high notes battered my rib cage, a bird struggling to break free. How I admired them. How I envied them. Even the one who turned the page a beat behind the rest.
At the interval, I queued for tea between two of them. Blushing, like they were film stars, I confessed I was impressed.
“You should join us,” they said.
I shook my head. “Can’t read music. Can’t hold a tune.”
“Nonsense,” they said. “Everyone can sing.”
If I could stand among them, my voice mingling with theirs. Soaring to the vaulted ceiling. Like a flock of songbirds.
The high notes battered my rib cage, a bird struggling to break free. How I admired them. How I envied them. Even the one who turned the page a beat behind the rest.
At the interval, I queued for tea between two of them. Blushing, like they were film stars, I confessed I was impressed.
“You should join us,” they said.
I shook my head. “Can’t read music. Can’t hold a tune.”
“Nonsense,” they said. “Everyone can sing.”
If I could stand among them, my voice mingling with theirs. Soaring to the vaulted ceiling. Like a flock of songbirds.
RSS Feed
