One of my favorite stories is about the young aspiring opera star singing for his first time at Milan’s La Scala. After his debut the audience yells, “Ancora, Ancora.” He smiles to himself and belts out the song again. And again, the audience yells, “Ancora.” This goes on for four or five encores, and finally he turns to the audience and says, “Wait, I have sung the song now five times. What more do you want?” Some guy in the balcony yells back, “You will sing it until you get it right.”
When I finished my previous book—a scientific memoir of sorts that told the story of split-brain research—I thought I was finished with books. It was an enjoyable book to write because the perspective flowed from personal experience and was sprinkled with stories that remain a big part of my life. It turns out that imbedded in that book were the beginnings of another book, this book. As one reader put it to me, “So now that your personal story is out of the way, write about consciousness per se.” That is a different assignment and one that requires hard work, new work, and a lot of help.
There is one person who helped in the project like no other, and that is my sister Rebecca, a part-time MD, a part-time botanist, a part-time scientific writer and researcher, and a full-time bon vivant. Everybody and everything she touches turns into something better than it was. She started working with me on my various books right after a major surgery I had in 2006, kind of helping out with the editorial aspects. Quickly, she became fascinated with neuroscience and soon enough became a research assistant as well. Her intellectual clarity, her passion to know more and more about everything, and her good cheer have become central to everything I have done ever since, and I remain in her debt.
When Bridget Queenan arrived at our university to galvanize our brain initiative, I knew the everyday humdrum of academic life was going to change for the better. Her unyielding wit, drive, and intelligence, combined with her sensational editorial skills, came in to add to the effort. There were others as well. Of course, I always try to turn my graduate seminars into exploratory settings for my projects. During the first year, students bring in new material ideas, and for this endeavor, one student in particular, Evan Layer, was extremely helpful. During the second year, the new class serves as critics, editors, and more for the developing chapters.
Over the years, one develops a small group of professional friends who will actually read various drafts of the book and will comment in detail, like true friends, with no sparing of the rod. I am in debt to Walter Sinott-Armstrong, who tried to keep me inbounds on my philosophical thoughts, to Michael Posner, Steven Hillyard, Leo Chalupa, John Doyle, Marcus Raichle, and many others, who struggled to help me keep the brain story straight. And finally, to my wife, Charlotte, who really keeps me on the straight and narrow. Her influence is everywhere.
After all the internal checks, the book goes off to New York City and the publisher. This is my first book with FSG and I hope not the last. Editors Eric Chinski and Laird Gallagher both encouraged and critiqued with clarity and force. After a first go-around, I found their edit so compelling that I asked them for another round. I didn’t know they were both trained philosophers and that they read my efforts with more than general interest. They read it with knowledge, and untold times helped me with clarity. And then came the copyediting by Annie Gottlieb. Every line was passed through her relentless mind for both accuracy and comprehension. I am indebted to one and all, and I should point out that so are those who choose to read my efforts.