100 books like Neurogastronomy

Luca Turin, a biophysicist and writer, is obsessed with smell. You know those poetic-seeming, almost made-up descriptors we see in wine marketing? Well, that’s how he talks about smells. Turin also wants to figure out how we smell, which we still don’t know the answer to. Ultimately, by delving into some past research and building on it, he finds some answers, though they’re still not widely embraced.

Burr shares Turin’s story about the complexities of navigating the world of sensory science, especially as a passionate iconoclast. It also left me thinking about the art and science of sensing and about who has more expertise–the seasoned perfumer who can detect the fine notes within a glass bottle or the research scientist trying to describe the smell in a purely factual, scientific way.

This is also a book about what the nose doesn’t know, dispelling myths as well as digging into what scientists actually know in words non-scientists can understand. It is interesting to learn that blind people do not have enhanced powers of smell. It is positively illuminating to read, “Odors are perceptions, not things in the world. The fact that a molecule of phenylethyl alcohol smells like a rose is a function of our brain, not a property of the molecule.”

Harold McGee, known for his books on cooking, brings molecules to life in Nose Dive. The book truly is a field guide, with tables throughout listing the source of aroma compounds, the components smell, and the responsible molecules. For instance, looking at molecules explains why Europeans might think American garden strawberries smell more like pineapple than strawberry. Nose Dive is also inspiring. “When we nose an intriguing flower or finger a leaf or sip a cola, and take the time to sniff repeatedly and searchingly for component smells, we experience their qualities more fully than when we smell with brain on autopilot,” McGee writes.

In Neurogastronomy, Gordon Shepherd likens smells to human faces, writing that they are easy to recognize but hard to describe. In Flavor, Bob Holmes introduces readers to a small tribe of nomadic hunter-gatherers in Malaysia, the Jahai, who have more than a dozen words to describe smells, none of which relate to the smell of any particular object. Vocabulary, he writes, is something we can learn with little effort. His experiences with chefs, gastronomy experts, and food scientists may inspire readers to find personal vocabularies. In the end, he writes, “What’s important is that coming up with a description forces me to pay attention and paying attention enriches my flavor experience.”

Nobel prize winner Gerald Edelman sums up in this book a model of human consciousness that has greatly informed my understanding. The framework he constructs involves intricate interconnections among myriad brain components— interconnections that operate according to a dynamic process that he terms “re-entry."

Written in a voice that is quite professorial, this book requires concentrated study, and is a must-have text for the serious student of human consciousness.

I am a recreational clarinetist and a friend gave me this book, thinking I would like to know how music is rewiring my brain and possibly helping stave off senility. Nina Kraus has pursued a career in the study of hearing, and her passion for her subject infuses the book. She is entranced by the two-way feedback connection between the brain and the ear, and how the sounds we have already heard and processed shape our interpretation of the next sound waves to reach our ears, sometimes in surprising ways. Her description of the miraculously intricate mechanisms inside the ear makes me grateful for every time I wore ear protection when I was using a power tool or driving a tractor.

Oliver Sacks was a person who really loved science and being a scientist. Instead of describing some neurological condition or syndrome then explaining why that condition matters to our humanity, he describes the condition and the people who have it in ways that make it clear why it matters. 

In Musicophilia, Sacks’ object of study is musical disorders, including cases of people who suddenly showed a great interest in music after having little prior interest, as well as people who suddenly lost all love for music. He also looks at people who have hallucinations of music, and struggle to find where the sound is coming from. 

V. S. Ramachandran is a gifted experimentalist and writer who does not hesitate to pursue deep and important questions about our minds. Rather than employing expensive imaging or large sample sizes, he is more likely to use a cardboard box, an old stereopticon, or a rubber hand in his experiments. 

His creativity in finding concrete ways to test seemingly vague but interesting claims about our minds has led to several breakthroughs, in our understanding of phantom limbs and our ability to treat phantom pain, and also in our study or synesthesia—cases in which people see numbers as having colors, for example.

As I can attest, he is able to transmit to his students the idea that pursuing scientific questions can thrilling, fulfilling, and so much fun that you can’t wait to get to work in the morning.

Supported by a wide range of examples drawn from various disciplines, this book demonstrates how we are only conscious of a small amount of what our hidden psychological machinery manufactures nonconsciously.

This work provides a key perspective needed to appreciate Julian Jaynes’s theory of consciousness and, thus his ideas on bicameral mentality. 

Alright, alright. There should be at least one book that actually helps with the practice of teaching. And this is the one. Countless books admonish specific programs and practices, chock full of the fanciest edu-buzz words. But rarely do they discuss why a strategy works based on the science of human cognition and development. Even less frequently do they back the why with multiple peer-reviewed studies. 

Jensen and McConchie combine an absurd level of nerd as researchers and veteran educators. This book and its predecessors helped me gain a deep understanding of why a strategy worked (or how to make it work), whether it was something new or something tried-and-true. The job of a teacher is to mold human brains. We should probably know everything we can about how those brains work.