I GAVE up my job to write a textbook on consciousness. This may sound daft, but my main desire in life is to struggle with what some say is the greatest mystery left to science: why do we experience anything at all? How can millions of objectively existing neurons produce the subjective experience of being me sitting here worrying about it? It鈥檚 terribly difficult even to think about. And the best way to learn about a difficult subject must be to write the textbook. I reckoned it would take two years even without a job, so I set to work.
It鈥檚 to be a real textbook, aimed at third-year undergraduates. It鈥檒l have little boxes, exercises, questions to test your knowledge, and lots and lots of references. As far as I know, it will be the first ever on consciousness. There are lots of books (some say too many that promote someone鈥檚 theory of consciousness, but no textbooks. After 10 years of teaching courses on this topic I think I have a unique qualification for writing one. I have no theory of consciousness.
My first step was to write the 60-page synopsis. The second was to respond when Oxford University Press sent it to no fewer than 14 of its reviewers, whose comments ranged from the ecstatic to the insulting.
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It鈥檚 unlike anything I鈥檝e done before. All my previous books have pushed my own theories, whether on the paranormal or on memes. This time I have to explain theories that I think are completely wrong (lots of those, as well as the ones I think may be half right. I have to criticise them all without allowing my bias too much free rein. Yet I cannot avoid all bias because I have to choose what goes in and what stays out. It鈥檚 agonising but I love it.
This life would not suit everyone. It means strict discipline, sitting alone for days on end, surrounded by books, reading, thinking, getting confused and writing. But this is all I want to do. And have I discovered what consciousness is yet? Not at all, but I鈥檓 getting more deeply perplexed.