In Mark Haddon’s acclaimed novel, The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time, readers are invited into the world of Christopher Boone, a teenager with autism spectrum disorder. Christopher’s unique way of perceiving and processing information is central to the narrative, and one of the most insightful aspects of his character is his use of metaphors to describe his own mind. A recurring comparison he makes is likening his brain to a machine, and specifically, a computer. But When Does Christopher Compare The Human Brain To A Computer, and what does this reveal about his cognitive processes?
Christopher’s metaphors are not arbitrary; they serve as crucial tools for him to understand and articulate his internal experiences. He utilizes these comparisons at various points in the book to explain how his mind works, both to himself and to others. These metaphors, including the computer analogy, offer a window into how he manages the overwhelming sensory input and information processing that characterizes his experience.
One of the earliest instances where Christopher uses a machine-like comparison for his mind occurs when he is overwhelmed by the police questioning him about the death of Mrs. Shears’ dog, Wellington. He describes the barrage of questions as becoming “stacked up in my head like loaves in the factory where Uncle Terry works… And sometimes a slicer is not working fast enough but the bread keeps coming and there is a blockage.” Here, while he initially uses a bread-slicing machine analogy, the underlying concept is of a system being overloaded with too much information too quickly, leading to a breakdown. This sets the stage for his later, more direct comparison to a computer.
Later in the novel, Christopher explicitly compares the human brain to a computer screen when discussing the homunculus argument, a philosophical concept he encounters in his reading. He explains, “we think we’re looking out of our eyes like we’re looking out of windows and there’s a person inside our head, but we’re not. We’re looking at a screen inside our heads, like a computer screen.” This comparison is used not just for his own mind, but for the general understanding of how human perception works. He sees the mind as a processing center, displaying information much like a computer screen displays output.
However, Christopher distinguishes his own mind from those of neurotypical individuals based on what appears on this “computer screen.” He believes that “many people see things on the screen of their minds that aren’t there—hopes, fears, fictions—and he only sees what is.” This is a crucial distinction. For Christopher, his mind as a computer is characterized by its literal and factual processing. He perceives himself as less prone to the subjective interpretations and emotional filters that he believes cloud the minds of others. His “computer brain” is, in his view, more objective and less prone to error because it deals primarily with concrete data.
It’s important to note that while Christopher finds the computer comparison helpful, it is just one of several metaphors he employs. He also describes his mind as a film, capable of rewinding to revisit memories in vivid detail. These diverse metaphors highlight the complexity of his cognitive experience. Just as the bread machine analogy illustrates overload, the computer screen analogy emphasizes information processing and display.
The use of metaphors to understand the mind is a long-standing human tradition. The article in the original source rightly points out other historical comparisons, such as the tabula rasa (blank slate) popularized by John Locke, or the mind-as-a-room analogy, further developed into Sherlock Holmes’ “mind palace.” These, like Christopher’s computer, are attempts to make the abstract concept of thought more concrete and understandable.
Ultimately, Christopher compares the human brain to a computer to articulate his understanding of information processing, perception, and the differences he perceives between his own mind and others. This comparison is not just a passing thought; it’s a recurring motif that helps both Christopher and the reader navigate the intricacies of his unique cognitive landscape. Through these metaphors, Haddon provides a powerful and empathetic portrayal of a mind that works differently, inviting us to consider how we all conceptualize the complex machinery of our own brains.
How do you imagine your mind works?
