3.5 stars
A breezy and occasionally funny exploration of the author’s various forms of neurodivergence. And wow, she has a lot going on, although somehow she managed to remain in denial until around age 40. The topics in the order that Dingfelder explores them:
Prosopagnosia (faceblindness): You can see why this one was chosen for the title, because it’s pretty wild. In general, the human brain is great at recognizing faces and processes them holistically (I’m guessing this why we tend to be bad at describing a person’s actual features, although we can recognize them instantly). For Dingfelder, however, this doesn’t work at all—she has such severe faceblindness that she mistakes a stranger for her husband and her aunt for her mother. What’s most wild to me is how she managed to stay in denial about this for decades, despite losing friends when they changed hairstyles (as an adolescent she was lonely, while kids she’d hung out with were hurt whenever she next saw them and treated them like strangers), and being unable to follow plots of movies because she couldn’t recognize the characters. If someone put on a hat, forget about it. Happily, she did eventually hit on a workaround that improved her life: treating everybody like a friend.
(If you want to know how your face memory stacks up, try the Cambridge Face Memory Test online. I tried it and scored, as I expected, exactly average. It gets quite challenging, to pick out the super-recognizers: people who truly never forget a face.)
Stereoblindness (seeing only in 2D): Interestingly, this often accompanies faceblindness, and Dingfelder has it too. It is a very different way of seeing the world, and no, you can’t experience it just by closing one eye, because your brain fills in what it knows is there (when people lose an eye, apparently it takes months to lose their 3D vision). For this reason Dingfelder never learned to drive until researching this book, and I hope she is exaggerating for effect because the idea of her on the road sounds dangerous for everyone!
Aphantasia (lack of a mind’s eye): Dingfelder can’t picture things, and also (not necessarily related) has no internal monologue. She mostly uses this section to reflect on how different people’s inner lives are, in ways we generally don’t realize. When others talked about things she didn’t experience, she generally assumed they were exaggerating or speaking metaphorically—and sometimes they are speaking metaphorically. For instance, some people who describe “seeing red” when angry literally see it, while others simply use it as an idiom. Dingfelder’s aphantasia may have some benefits, though: along with her other neurological quirks, she credits it with her lack of body issues despite being chunky and consuming lots of body-image-focused media (she doesn’t remember what she looks like and defaults to assuming she looks great) and with her easily getting over even the nastiest breakups (out of sight is truly out of mind for her).
Severely deficient autobiographical memory (SDAM): By this point you may be feeling something about Dingfelder’s story doesn’t quite add up despite everything described above. Reading the book, I definitely did: she forgets people in a way lack of recognition alone doesn’t account for. (If your middle school best friend had suddenly disappeared, surely you’d have tried to find them? And, well, the breakup thing.) The answer is that she also has a sort of amnesia, where she quickly forgets her own experiences, particularly the details. She surmises that this is part of what trained her to be a journalist—she keeps a record by putting things into words. I wanted more from this section, as SDAM seems just as life-altering and headline-worthy as faceblindness.
So overall, a lot of interesting material here, and food for thought on how much any of us can know what it’s like to be another person. I appreciate the author’s vulnerability in letting us into her zany brain, and her style is breezy, humorous and easy to read. It is a bit fluffy though—there are a lot of full scenes, mostly conversations with her family and friends, which did not need to be. And I was annoyed by inappropriate use of an “imagine yourself…” gimmick: here I was imagining how terrifying it would be to have brain surgery, and really she just wanted to tell us about some new facts learned about the brain via a study whose participants had brain surgery. (Uncharitably, I wondered if a person without aphantasia would have written this bit, but perhaps the better target is her editor.) It could all have been tightened up a bit, but as the text is only 265 pages long I suppose it might’ve been padded out on purpose.
In the end, worth reading though not a stand-out for me, and an accessible introduction to some lesser-known forms of neurodivergence.