The Autistic Brain: Thinking Across the Spectrum Read Online Free PDF

considering multiple sources of information, consolidating several options into one solution.
    Occupying the floors just below the CEO are the other sections of the cerebral cortex. Each of these sections is responsible for the part of the brain it covers. You can think of the relationship between these discrete patches of gray matter and their corresponding parts as similar to the relationship between corporate vice presidents and their respective departments.
     
The frontal cortex VP is responsible for the frontal lobe—the part of the brain that handles reasoning, goals, emotions, judgment, and voluntary muscle movements.
The parietal cortex VP is responsible for the parietal lobe—the part of the brain that receives and processes sensory information and manipulates numbers.
The occipital cortex VP is responsible for the occipital lobe—the part of the brain that processes visual information.
The temporal cortex VP is responsible for the temporal lobe—the auditory part of the brain that keeps track of time, rhythm, and language.
     
    Below the VPs are the workers in these various divisions—the geeks, as I like to call them. They’re the areas of the brain that contribute to specialized functions, like math, art, music, and language.
    In the basement of the building are the manual laborers. They’re the ones dealing with the life-support systems, like breathing and nervous system arousal.
    Of course, all these departments and employees need to communicate with one another. So they have desktop computers, telephones, tablets, smartphones, and so on. When some folks want to talk to others face to face, they take the elevator or the stairs. All these means of access, connecting the workers in the various parts of the building in every way imaginable, are the white matter. Whereas the gray matter is the thin covering that controls discrete areas of the brain, the white matter—which makes up three-quarters of the brain—is a vast thicket of wiring that makes sure all the areas are communicating.
    In the autistic brain, however, an elevator might not stop at the seventh floor. The phones in the accounting department might not work. The wireless signal in the lobby might be weak.
    Before the invention of neuroimaging, researchers had to rely on postmortem examinations of the brain. Figuring out the anatomy of the brain—the answer to the What does it look like? question—was relatively straightforward: Cut it open, look at it, and label the parts. Figuring out the functions of those parts—the answer to the What does it do? question—was a lot trickier: Find someone who behaves oddly in life and then, when he or she dies, look for what’s broken in the brain.
    “Broken-brain” cases continue to be useful for neurology. Tumors. Head injuries. Strokes. If something’s broken in the brain, you can really start to learn what the various parts do. The difference today, though, is that you don’t have to wait for the brain’s host to die. Neuroimaging allows us to look at the parts of the brain and see what’s broken now, while the patient is still alive.
    Once when I was visiting a college campus I met a student who told me that when he tried to read, the print jiggled. I asked him if he’d had any head injuries, and he said he’d been hit by a hockey puck. I asked where exactly he’d been hit. He pointed to the back of the head. (I don’t think I was rude enough to actually feel the spot, but I can’t say for sure.) The place where he was pointing was the primary visual cortex, which is precisely where I had expected him to point, because of what neuroimaging has taught us.
    In broken-brain studies, we can take a symptom, an indication that something has gone haywire, and look for the wire or region that’s damaged. Through this research, we have pinpointed the circuits in the back of the brain that regulate perception of shape, color, motion, and texture. We know which are which because when they’re