Neuroscience and teen fiction: a winning combination?

It's been a big couple of weeks for me. I had my first ever academic journal article published in M/C Journal. Then, a few days ago, I presented a paper at the International Research Society for Children's Literature conference. All this academic type activity is starting to make me feel like a real PhD student. Plus, people at the conference seemed genuinely interested in my conference paper, so I figured maybe I should kick this blog back into gear.

So apart from practising my presentation and attending the conference, this week I've also been reading The Science of Evil by Simon Baron-Cohen (and yes, he is Sacha's cousin - it's mentioned in the book). In a nutshell, Baron-Cohen discusses the nature of empathy, where empathy can be said to be 'situated' within the human brain, and what it can mean to have 'zero empathy'.

In the acknowledgements Baron-Cohen opens with "This isn't a book for people with a sensitive disposition." Human beings are capable of appalling cruelty, and in case you have any doubt about this he provides some harrowing examples. However, Baron-Cohen believes that it is in the best interests of humans to take a dispassionate, scientific look at what makes people capable of treating others as objects. He argues that the notion of evil, with all the emotions it evokes, does nothing to help us deal with cruel acts whereas "empathy has explanatory power".

As a layperson, reading books based on neuroscience can be confusing at times. For example, in one section Baron-Cohen talks about the role of the gene MAOA (monoamine oxidase-A), which he says has been "controversially" called the "warrior gene". But when I was researching my Masters a couple of years ago, I came across some articles that wrote about the "resilience gene" - MAOA. So, which is it? Well, it's MAOA and it low levels of it are associated with aggression whereas people with high levels of it are less aggressive.

Like most people scientists like to come up with memorable names, which are especially good for science journos to use when they're writing articles to catch the eye of a reader (like me) who has an interest in science subjects but no formal training. But the difference in this type of 'naming' highlights an important issue - there are as many grey areas in science as there are in politics and culture.

Science is highly political (climate change, anyone?) and Baron-'Cohen's Science of Evil is politically charged. There is much in there to cause fiery debate, particularly when he suggests that knowledge of a scientific basis for acts of cruelty poses important questions for us around how the perpetrators of cruel and 'evil' acts should be viewed and treated. In light of the overwhelming evidence, provided in this book and others, that 'cruel' people are made not born then should we not focus on the good qualities they do have with a view to rehabilitation?

Although the neuroanotomical explanations can be a little dry at times, this is a fascinating and thought provoking book. For fiction writers interested in matters of the brain and human behaviour (especially of psychopaths), it's a great resource.









 

The brain, behaviour and criminal responsibility in Klass' Dark Angel

Set in a small town in contemporary USA, David Klass' Dark Angel is a psychological thriller that explores notions of good and evil; responsibility and victimhood. It's the first YA novel I've read so far for my research that explicitly mentions recent findings in modern neuroscience and weaves these concepts successfully through the narrative.

Seventeen-year-old Jeff's life is pretty ordinary. He does okay at high school, has an attractive girlfriend and is a solid but not impressive soccer player. But all that changes when his older brother Troy is released from prison. Troy was convicted of manslaughter as a juvenile and, after serving five years, is released on parole into the care of his parents. Jeff knows the average, small-town-teen life he has constructed is about to implode but is unable to persuade his parents to cast Troy aside. And despite Troy's carefully constructed remorseful surface, Jeff's worst fears are realised when the high school soccer star goes missing.

The teen-novel standard school assignment plot device is put to good use in Dark Angel, when the science teacher Mr Tsuyuki sets the class the task of writing a report that explores notions of good versus evil:

"Where does our growing knowledge of the chemical nature of the brain leave us in terms of... the human soul? When we think, are we really making choices or just following chemical pathways? If our behaviour can be reduced to chemical reactions, can we hold people to blame for what they do or don't do?" [p74-75]

Throughout the novel, Klass skilfully allows the narrator Jeff to experience the concepts his teacher describes as the story's action unfolds. In doing so, Klass pulls off the difficult double-act of writing a fast-paced thriller with plenty of action that also offers readers plenty to think about. There's an ill-fated trip to Atlantic City, a school prank gone horribly wrong, arguments with mates, a run in with the ex-girlfriend's father and Troy himself, described in all his complex creepiness and vulnerability. Underscoring this action, Klass poses difficult questions about loyalty to family and friends, the impacts of family secrets and the broad grey area that lies between the extremes of good and evil.

In terms of my research purposes, Klass incorporates trauma and its impact on the brain from a neuroscientific perspective:

"There are psychiatrists and neurologists doing studies on violent lawbreakers, from juvenile delinquents to adult murderers, who are finding that these felons share amazingly similar patterns of abusive childhoods, brain injuries, and psychotic symptoms." [p118]

Although it is the character of Mr Tsuyuki who introduces these concepts in a literal sense into the text, the impact of the questions he poses underlie every piece of action and dialogue in the novel. This is what makes it work well on so many levels: Jeff's story is infused with the fallout of his brother and his violent past and present. And yet, in spite of Tsuyuki's proposal that criminals are created not born, there is no indication within the story that Troy had anything but a loving and supportive childhood; no hint of any trauma that could be seen as a 'cause' for his aberrant behaviour.

In posing more questions than it answers, Klass tests those of his readers that want to be challenged. However, his skillful pacing, authentic dialogue and writing about standard teen fare including sex, illicit drug use, jealousy and friendship, means that those who prefer to read books without digging below the surface action will be entertained while being subtly drawn into the book's darker and more serious side.

A great book, and definitely one to add to the thesis shortlist.