For the next reading exercise, imagine how your inner caveman brain is going to understand this. This guy has been around way longer than those shiny, brand new reading skills—and he prefers to think in pictures! So make sure to give him something that will keep his attention by forming visual images
that will be interesting to the whole brain.
One thing you could try if you are having difficulty thinking in pictures as you read is doodling the phrases. To prompt your mind to think visually, try this exercise. Get a sheet of paper and make very
quick sketches of what each phrase means to you. These can be absolutely simplistic and maybe onl meaningful to you. Don’t take a lot of time, just jot down whatever comes to mind, be it an actual pictorial view, a metaphorical view, or a symbolic view. These aren’t pieces of art and should be
created as quickly as possible—just simple stick figures will do. Think of it as speed Pictionary. Don’t be concerned at all about what your doodles look like; just as our internal singing voice is often better than what comes out of our mouths, our right brains will internally take care of the real artwork
much better than we can draw. The point is only to give you some practice in seeing ideas as images and concepts, which can help wake up the visual right brain.
When you’re ready, begin reading the first thousand words of
The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde
by Robert Louis Stevenson by Robert Louis Stevenson
The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde
Mr. Uttersonthe lawyerwas a manof a rugged countenance,that was never lighted by a smile;cold, scanty and embarrassedin discourse; backward in sentiment;lean, long, dusty, dreary, and yet somehowlovable. At friendly meetings,and when the winewas to his taste,something eminently human beaconed from his eye;something indeedwhich never found its wayinto his talk, but which spokenot onlyin these silent symbolsof theafter-dinner face, but more oftenand loudly inthe acts o his life.He was austerewith himself;drank ginwhen he was alone,to mortifya taste for vintages;
and thoughhe enjoyedthe theatre,had not crossedthe doors of onefor twenty years.But he hadan approved tolerancefor others;sometimes wondering,almost with envy,at the high pressureof spirits involvedin their misdeeds;and in any extremityinclined to helprather thanto reprove.
“I inclineIn this character,it was frequentlyhis fortuneto be the lastto Cain’s heresy,”he used to say quaintly:“I let my brothergo to the devilreputable acquaintanceand the lastin his own way.”good influencein the livesof down-going men.And to such as these,so long as they cameabout his chambers,he never markeda shade of changein his demeanor.
No doubt the featwas easy to Mr. Utterson;for he wasundemonstrativeat the best,and even his friendship seemed to be foundedin a similar catholicityof good-nature.It is the markof a modest manto accepthis friendly circleready-madefrom the handsof opportunity;and that wasthe lawyer’s ay. His friends were thoseof his own bloodor those whomhe had knownthe longest;his affections,like ivy,were the growth of time,they implied no aptnessin the object.Hence,no doubt, the bond that united himto Mr. Richard Enfield,his distant kinsman,the well-knownman about town.
It was a nutto crack for many,what these twocould seein each other,or what subjectthey could find in common.It was reported by thosewho encountered themin their Sunday walks,that they said nothing,looked singularly dull,and would hailwith obvious reliefthe appearanceof a friend.For all that,the two men put the greatest store by these excursions,counted themthe chief jewelof each eek,and not only set asideoccasions of pleasure, but even resistedthe calls of business,that they mightenjoy them uninterrupted.
It chanced onone of these ramblesthat their wayled them downa by-streetin a busy quartero London.The street was smalland what is called quiet, but it drovea thriving tradeon the week-days.
The inhabitantswere all doing well, it seemed,and all emulously hopingto do better still,and laying outthe surplusof their gainsin coquetry;so that the shop frontsstood alongthat thoroughfarewith an air of invitation,like rows of smiling saleswomen.Even on Sunday,when it veiledits more florid charms and lay comparativelyempty of passage,the street shone outin contrastto its dingy neighborhood,like a firein a forest;and withits freshly paintedshutters,well-polished brasses, and general cleanlinessand gaiety of note,instantly caughtand pleased the eyeof the passenger.
Two doorsfrom one corner,on the left handgoing east,the line was broken by the entryof a court;
and just at that point,a certainsinister blockof buildingthrust forwardits gable on the street. It was two stories high; showed no window, nothing but a door on the lower story and a blind forehead o discolored wall on the upper; and bore in every feature, the marks of prolonged and sordid negligence. The door, which was equipped with neither bell nor knocker,was blistered and distained. Tramps slouchedinto the recess and struck matches on the panels; children kept shop upon the steps; the schoolboy had tried his knife on the moldings; and for close ona generation, no one had appeared to drive away these random visitors or to repair their ravages.
Mr. Enfield and the lawyerwere on the other side of the by-street; but when they came abreast of the entry,the former lifted up his caneand pointed.
“Did you ever remarkthat door?” he asked;and when his companion had repliedin the affirmative,
“It is connectedin my mind,” added he, “with a very odd story.”
“Indeed?” said Mr. Utterson, with a slight change of voice, “and what was that?”
“Well, it was this way,” returned Mr. Enfield: “I was coming home from some place at the end of the orld, about three o’clock of a black winter morning, and my way lay through a part of town where there was literally nothing to be seen but lamps. Street after street; and all the folks asleep—stree after street, all lighted up as if for a procession and all as empty as a church—till at last I got into tha state of mind when a man listens and listens and begins to long for the sight of a policeman. All at once, I saw two figures: one a little man who was stumping along eastward at a good walk, and the other a girl of maybe eight or ten who was running as hard as she was able down a cross street. Well, sir, the two ran into one another naturally enough at the corner; and then came the horrible part of the thing; for the man trampled calmly over the child’s body and left her screaming on the ground. It sounds nothing to hear, but it was hellish to see. It wasn’t like a man; it was like some damned Juggernaut. I gave a view-halloa, took to my heels, collared my gentleman, and brought him back to
here there was already quite a group about the screaming…
Chapter 9: Re
Chapter 9: Reading ading w with the B ith the Brain rain
We now know a little about the physical processes the brain uses to accomplish the task of reading, but how can we make the most of this ability? What mental processes should we be using to bes
convert text into knowledge? Where’s the “User’s Guide” for this reading machine?
As you have probably noticed, there is already plenty of advice available on reading techniques.
In fact, having so much advice can make it difficult to decide which advice is excellent and which is nonsense. Our previous discussion of how we process text, however, may help you determine which methods makes more sense.
The last chapter primarily dealt with how the brain converts printed text into words, but this chapter ill concentrate on how these words are turned into meaning. We will cover how words are turned into the thoughts they came from, and how language becomes ideas. We will also look closer at how the right brain can enhance this ability.