Craft Notes
Thought Experiments
If you had to go to a party dressed as the last animal you killed, what would you go as? I’d probably go as a newt, or if that newt didn’t die, then I’d be a fruit fly. Schrödinger either would or wouldn’t be a cat, depending on something random.
At least one person has said that much of modern physics is built on thought experiments. Einstein’s thought experiment about chasing a light beam got him to his theory of relativity.
Do you use thought experiments, or something like them, in your writing? Or, another way: how do you make environments using language?
P.S. It isn’t new, but check out “Keats in Space” by Molly Young for a discussion of the fusion of poetry and science. Also, Natalie’s poem “Water Experiment” and the discussion that follows gives you some poetry and science.
Tags: Molly Young, natalie lyalin, poetry and science, thought experiments
Schrödinger would go as both a cat and not a cat (the cat is simultaneously dead and not dead). When I first heard of thought experiments it was in a poetry workshop talking about Mary Ruefle’s The Most of It (which has some really awesome prose poems). I’ve seen them little poetic machines since then.
Schrödinger would go as both a cat and not a cat (the cat is simultaneously dead and not dead). When I first heard of thought experiments it was in a poetry workshop talking about Mary Ruefle’s The Most of It (which has some really awesome prose poems). I’ve seen them little poetic machines since then.
Schrödinger would go as both a cat and not a cat (the cat is simultaneously dead and not dead). When I first heard of thought experiments it was in a poetry workshop talking about Mary Ruefle’s The Most of It (which has some really awesome prose poems). I’ve seen them little poetic machines since then.
I love that book. “The Taking of Moundville By Zoom” is a delightful thought experiment: “If you were very, very small, smaller than a leprechaun, small than a gnome or fairy, and you lived in a vagina, every time a penis came in there would be a natural disaster.”
I love that book. “The Taking of Moundville By Zoom” is a delightful thought experiment: “If you were very, very small, smaller than a leprechaun, small than a gnome or fairy, and you lived in a vagina, every time a penis came in there would be a natural disaster.”
I love that book. “The Taking of Moundville By Zoom” is a delightful thought experiment: “If you were very, very small, smaller than a leprechaun, small than a gnome or fairy, and you lived in a vagina, every time a penis came in there would be a natural disaster.”
oops that should be “smaller than a gnome”…
oops that should be “smaller than a gnome”…
oops that should be “smaller than a gnome”…
I’d have to go as a salami.
I’d have to go as a salami.
I’d have to go as a salami.
I have to admit that I am a little squeamish to be posting here after the recent unpleasentness concerning the discussion that followed a very good post about Molly Young in the recent past, but I feel that her review of The Age of Wonder, “Keats in Space,” and the amount of (serious) attention it has been given represents something very important, at least to me. The issue of the relationship betwen poetry and science ties into a number of other timely issues, such as the social function of poetry, the debate over poetry as a pastime or a way of life, and the relevance of poetry to understanding other ways of experimental and speculative thinking. Young’s review focused on the English-Speaking Romantics, as The Age of Wonder is primarily concerned with them. However, I think that it is important to examine the central importance that the issue of the relationship between science and poetry held for the early German Romantics, specifically the Jena Circle. (I am currently writing a book on this subject, so pardon if I go on and on about a topic that may not be of general interest). The German Romantic movement was in many ways a reaction of the excesses of the Enlightenment, and was given inspiration by the anti-empiricist nature of Kant’s philosophy (which had a fundamental impact on the early German Romantics). These attitudes did lead to a certain skepticism about the claims being made by many Enlightenment thinkers that science had a universal monopoly on knowledge. However, the Jena Romantics, especially Novalis, were not interested in rejecting science, but integrating it with a more holistic understanding of knowledge. For Novalis, whose formal academic training was in geology and mining engineering, the imperative of the Romantic movement was to go beyond empiricism to a more holistic theory of nature and the universe (an early example of the search for “the theory of everything.”) For Novalis, poetry provided the key to this approach. He was interested in a poetic science, poetic religion, poetic economics, a “progressive universal poesy.” It is interesting that one of the areas to which Novalis’ ideas have been applied on a number of occasions in recent years is the environmental crisis. There have been serious attempts to use Novalis’ “poetic science” as an approach to the necessary rethinking of our relationship to nature. In an age when the restoration of a healthier balance between nature and humanity is imperative, the scientific approach of the Romantics certainly has relevance.
I have to admit that I am a little squeamish to be posting here after the recent unpleasentness concerning the discussion that followed a very good post about Molly Young in the recent past, but I feel that her review of The Age of Wonder, “Keats in Space,” and the amount of (serious) attention it has been given represents something very important, at least to me. The issue of the relationship betwen poetry and science ties into a number of other timely issues, such as the social function of poetry, the debate over poetry as a pastime or a way of life, and the relevance of poetry to understanding other ways of experimental and speculative thinking. Young’s review focused on the English-Speaking Romantics, as The Age of Wonder is primarily concerned with them. However, I think that it is important to examine the central importance that the issue of the relationship between science and poetry held for the early German Romantics, specifically the Jena Circle. (I am currently writing a book on this subject, so pardon if I go on and on about a topic that may not be of general interest). The German Romantic movement was in many ways a reaction of the excesses of the Enlightenment, and was given inspiration by the anti-empiricist nature of Kant’s philosophy (which had a fundamental impact on the early German Romantics). These attitudes did lead to a certain skepticism about the claims being made by many Enlightenment thinkers that science had a universal monopoly on knowledge. However, the Jena Romantics, especially Novalis, were not interested in rejecting science, but integrating it with a more holistic understanding of knowledge. For Novalis, whose formal academic training was in geology and mining engineering, the imperative of the Romantic movement was to go beyond empiricism to a more holistic theory of nature and the universe (an early example of the search for “the theory of everything.”) For Novalis, poetry provided the key to this approach. He was interested in a poetic science, poetic religion, poetic economics, a “progressive universal poesy.” It is interesting that one of the areas to which Novalis’ ideas have been applied on a number of occasions in recent years is the environmental crisis. There have been serious attempts to use Novalis’ “poetic science” as an approach to the necessary rethinking of our relationship to nature. In an age when the restoration of a healthier balance between nature and humanity is imperative, the scientific approach of the Romantics certainly has relevance.
I have to admit that I am a little squeamish to be posting here after the recent unpleasentness concerning the discussion that followed a very good post about Molly Young in the recent past, but I feel that her review of The Age of Wonder, “Keats in Space,” and the amount of (serious) attention it has been given represents something very important, at least to me. The issue of the relationship betwen poetry and science ties into a number of other timely issues, such as the social function of poetry, the debate over poetry as a pastime or a way of life, and the relevance of poetry to understanding other ways of experimental and speculative thinking. Young’s review focused on the English-Speaking Romantics, as The Age of Wonder is primarily concerned with them. However, I think that it is important to examine the central importance that the issue of the relationship between science and poetry held for the early German Romantics, specifically the Jena Circle. (I am currently writing a book on this subject, so pardon if I go on and on about a topic that may not be of general interest). The German Romantic movement was in many ways a reaction of the excesses of the Enlightenment, and was given inspiration by the anti-empiricist nature of Kant’s philosophy (which had a fundamental impact on the early German Romantics). These attitudes did lead to a certain skepticism about the claims being made by many Enlightenment thinkers that science had a universal monopoly on knowledge. However, the Jena Romantics, especially Novalis, were not interested in rejecting science, but integrating it with a more holistic understanding of knowledge. For Novalis, whose formal academic training was in geology and mining engineering, the imperative of the Romantic movement was to go beyond empiricism to a more holistic theory of nature and the universe (an early example of the search for “the theory of everything.”) For Novalis, poetry provided the key to this approach. He was interested in a poetic science, poetic religion, poetic economics, a “progressive universal poesy.” It is interesting that one of the areas to which Novalis’ ideas have been applied on a number of occasions in recent years is the environmental crisis. There have been serious attempts to use Novalis’ “poetic science” as an approach to the necessary rethinking of our relationship to nature. In an age when the restoration of a healthier balance between nature and humanity is imperative, the scientific approach of the Romantics certainly has relevance.
“If you had to go to a party dressed as the last animal you killed, what would you go as?”
My answer would be “one of those no-see-’ems that buzz in your ear”, because that’s the last (and hopefully only) animal I’ve killed in a long time. And what a great animal to go to a party as. (And what a strange question for you to ask.) There are any number of parties I would love to attend as a no-see-’em, (Literally. The ol’ fly-on-the-wall scenario.) but I would avoid buzzing in peoples’ ears because I wouldn’t want to get killed.
I feel like most of my life is a thought experiment.
I am planning to read the links when I get home from work tonight.
“If you had to go to a party dressed as the last animal you killed, what would you go as?”
My answer would be “one of those no-see-’ems that buzz in your ear”, because that’s the last (and hopefully only) animal I’ve killed in a long time. And what a great animal to go to a party as. (And what a strange question for you to ask.) There are any number of parties I would love to attend as a no-see-’em, (Literally. The ol’ fly-on-the-wall scenario.) but I would avoid buzzing in peoples’ ears because I wouldn’t want to get killed.
I feel like most of my life is a thought experiment.
I am planning to read the links when I get home from work tonight.
“If you had to go to a party dressed as the last animal you killed, what would you go as?”
My answer would be “one of those no-see-’ems that buzz in your ear”, because that’s the last (and hopefully only) animal I’ve killed in a long time. And what a great animal to go to a party as. (And what a strange question for you to ask.) There are any number of parties I would love to attend as a no-see-’em, (Literally. The ol’ fly-on-the-wall scenario.) but I would avoid buzzing in peoples’ ears because I wouldn’t want to get killed.
I feel like most of my life is a thought experiment.
I am planning to read the links when I get home from work tonight.
i will never tire of references to schrodinger’s cat.
derek white uses the idea to great effect in ‘marsupial’. perhaps your and his wavefunctions momentarily entangled in sleepingfish to give birth to this post?
the quantum forefathers were no strangers to a renaissance breadth of knowledge, whether scientific, philosophical, artistic or spiritual, so it’s kind of weird that molly, or more precisely, holmes, marks the early 19th century as the fissure between poetry/arts and science. even though schrodinger came up with the thought experiment of the cat to highlight the absurdity of the orthodox interpretation of qm, i.e. superposition of states, he was nonetheless steeped in mysticism and loquacious with language:
‘Thus you can throw yourself flat on the ground, stretched out upon Mother Earth, with the certain conviction that you are one with her and she with you. You are as firmly established, as invulnerable as she, indeed a thousand times firmer and more invulnerable. As surely as she will engulf you tomorrow, so surely will she bring you forth anew to the new striving and suffering. And not merely “some day.” Now, today, every day she is bringing you forth, not once but thousands upon thousands of times, just as every day she engulfs you a thousand times over. For eternally and always there is only now, one and the same now; the present is the only thing that has no end.’
i didn’t quite catch the connection in your post: how do thought experiments relate to ‘making environments using language’? do you mean going beyond the given of the senses to conjure microcosms, worlds within worlds?
i will never tire of references to schrodinger’s cat.
derek white uses the idea to great effect in ‘marsupial’. perhaps your and his wavefunctions momentarily entangled in sleepingfish to give birth to this post?
the quantum forefathers were no strangers to a renaissance breadth of knowledge, whether scientific, philosophical, artistic or spiritual, so it’s kind of weird that molly, or more precisely, holmes, marks the early 19th century as the fissure between poetry/arts and science. even though schrodinger came up with the thought experiment of the cat to highlight the absurdity of the orthodox interpretation of qm, i.e. superposition of states, he was nonetheless steeped in mysticism and loquacious with language:
‘Thus you can throw yourself flat on the ground, stretched out upon Mother Earth, with the certain conviction that you are one with her and she with you. You are as firmly established, as invulnerable as she, indeed a thousand times firmer and more invulnerable. As surely as she will engulf you tomorrow, so surely will she bring you forth anew to the new striving and suffering. And not merely “some day.” Now, today, every day she is bringing you forth, not once but thousands upon thousands of times, just as every day she engulfs you a thousand times over. For eternally and always there is only now, one and the same now; the present is the only thing that has no end.’
i didn’t quite catch the connection in your post: how do thought experiments relate to ‘making environments using language’? do you mean going beyond the given of the senses to conjure microcosms, worlds within worlds?
i will never tire of references to schrodinger’s cat.
derek white uses the idea to great effect in ‘marsupial’. perhaps your and his wavefunctions momentarily entangled in sleepingfish to give birth to this post?
the quantum forefathers were no strangers to a renaissance breadth of knowledge, whether scientific, philosophical, artistic or spiritual, so it’s kind of weird that molly, or more precisely, holmes, marks the early 19th century as the fissure between poetry/arts and science. even though schrodinger came up with the thought experiment of the cat to highlight the absurdity of the orthodox interpretation of qm, i.e. superposition of states, he was nonetheless steeped in mysticism and loquacious with language:
‘Thus you can throw yourself flat on the ground, stretched out upon Mother Earth, with the certain conviction that you are one with her and she with you. You are as firmly established, as invulnerable as she, indeed a thousand times firmer and more invulnerable. As surely as she will engulf you tomorrow, so surely will she bring you forth anew to the new striving and suffering. And not merely “some day.” Now, today, every day she is bringing you forth, not once but thousands upon thousands of times, just as every day she engulfs you a thousand times over. For eternally and always there is only now, one and the same now; the present is the only thing that has no end.’
i didn’t quite catch the connection in your post: how do thought experiments relate to ‘making environments using language’? do you mean going beyond the given of the senses to conjure microcosms, worlds within worlds?
Here’s an example of a thought experiment that illustrates how I think thought experiments relate to making environments out of language. It’s from the book Consciousness Explained: “If the resolution of our vision were as poor as the resolution of our olfaction, when a bird flew overhead the sky would go all birdish for us for a while.”
Here’s an example of a thought experiment that illustrates how I think thought experiments relate to making environments out of language. It’s from the book Consciousness Explained: “If the resolution of our vision were as poor as the resolution of our olfaction, when a bird flew overhead the sky would go all birdish for us for a while.”
Here’s an example of a thought experiment that illustrates how I think thought experiments relate to making environments out of language. It’s from the book Consciousness Explained: “If the resolution of our vision were as poor as the resolution of our olfaction, when a bird flew overhead the sky would go all birdish for us for a while.”
so the first clause would be the thought experiment: what if our vision were as poor as our olfaction. and the second clause would be an implementation, or one example of many, of that thought experiment.
then, in a poem or literary text the thought experiment could either be explicitly stated or instead implied, meaning the first clause would be absent. and in such a case, several instances of the unstated thought experiment (the first clause) would be required for the reader to extrapolate the underlying logic. although, there would also need to be references to olfaction to thereby make sense of the skewed/blurry vision, perhaps by giving instances of hyper-sensitive olfaction to complete the entire logic of the implied thought experiment. i don’t know if i’m speaking clearly here. i’m trying to distinguish between thought experiment as premise, and ‘the conclusions drawn from it’ as ‘how it would appear in the world’, the birdishness being but one example of what would happen if vision = olfaction. if [imagined thought experiment], then [outcome of applying the thought experiment to the world].
so by reimagining certain premises, you can construct (via internal logic) different literary environments? in the same way, einstein reimagined the basic premise of space and time by considering the speed of light as the only invariable, and thus (following the internal logic of that reasoning) our entire sense of reality became rearranged, i.e. space and time could now dilate and contract. if i’m interpreting you correctly, i think this aligns with some criticism i wrote about awhile ago regarding some contemporary authors i’m intrigued by.
with that understanding i would say, yes, i use thought experiments in my writing. i’ve even written an unpublished poem/text titled, ‘gedanken experiment’, which is the german and i think original neologism for ‘thought experiment’. i love thought experiments. i would build a house out of them if i could, but my reasoning is usually too weak to withstand any electricity or plumbing.
so the first clause would be the thought experiment: what if our vision were as poor as our olfaction. and the second clause would be an implementation, or one example of many, of that thought experiment.
then, in a poem or literary text the thought experiment could either be explicitly stated or instead implied, meaning the first clause would be absent. and in such a case, several instances of the unstated thought experiment (the first clause) would be required for the reader to extrapolate the underlying logic. although, there would also need to be references to olfaction to thereby make sense of the skewed/blurry vision, perhaps by giving instances of hyper-sensitive olfaction to complete the entire logic of the implied thought experiment. i don’t know if i’m speaking clearly here. i’m trying to distinguish between thought experiment as premise, and ‘the conclusions drawn from it’ as ‘how it would appear in the world’, the birdishness being but one example of what would happen if vision = olfaction. if [imagined thought experiment], then [outcome of applying the thought experiment to the world].
so by reimagining certain premises, you can construct (via internal logic) different literary environments? in the same way, einstein reimagined the basic premise of space and time by considering the speed of light as the only invariable, and thus (following the internal logic of that reasoning) our entire sense of reality became rearranged, i.e. space and time could now dilate and contract. if i’m interpreting you correctly, i think this aligns with some criticism i wrote about awhile ago regarding some contemporary authors i’m intrigued by.
with that understanding i would say, yes, i use thought experiments in my writing. i’ve even written an unpublished poem/text titled, ‘gedanken experiment’, which is the german and i think original neologism for ‘thought experiment’. i love thought experiments. i would build a house out of them if i could, but my reasoning is usually too weak to withstand any electricity or plumbing.
Welcome, Evelyn, an auspicious first post. I think the idea of thought-experiments for fiction is very cool…some of my favorite writers do certain things along these lines, i.e. What if there were conscious entities at the Big Bang, what if the universe was an infinite library, etc? Right now I’m reading China Mieville’s The City and the City and the experiment, the idea of two cities superimposed on one another, is kicking the plot’s/characters’ ass so far in terms of making me care about it, though I’m hoping that changes. I find my own stories venture out along these lines often as well (“What if there was a city comprised entirely of restaurants?” “What if the study of shadows was a science?” etc.).
Panning back a little bit, esp. prompted by your citing of Dan Dennett above, Brian Boyd makes a case in On the Origin of Stories that might be summed up in the notion that all fiction is a thought experiment of one sort or another. He writes that “The ability to imagine the world as other than it is underpins pretend play, and the ability to conceive of alternatives underpins all modeling. Free thought needs alternatives and counterfactuals. A mental architecture that processes only true information remains severely constricted. Most discovery involves supposition….much of the indefinite enormity of possibility space has been made concrete and particular through the examples of story” (pg. 197-199).
Fiction as thought-experiment…create some combustion, a new compound on paper…lives, half-lives: a kinder, gentler meth.
Welcome, Evelyn, an auspicious first post. I think the idea of thought-experiments for fiction is very cool…some of my favorite writers do certain things along these lines, i.e. What if there were conscious entities at the Big Bang, what if the universe was an infinite library, etc? Right now I’m reading China Mieville’s The City and the City and the experiment, the idea of two cities superimposed on one another, is kicking the plot’s/characters’ ass so far in terms of making me care about it, though I’m hoping that changes. I find my own stories venture out along these lines often as well (“What if there was a city comprised entirely of restaurants?” “What if the study of shadows was a science?” etc.).
Panning back a little bit, esp. prompted by your citing of Dan Dennett above, Brian Boyd makes a case in On the Origin of Stories that might be summed up in the notion that all fiction is a thought experiment of one sort or another. He writes that “The ability to imagine the world as other than it is underpins pretend play, and the ability to conceive of alternatives underpins all modeling. Free thought needs alternatives and counterfactuals. A mental architecture that processes only true information remains severely constricted. Most discovery involves supposition….much of the indefinite enormity of possibility space has been made concrete and particular through the examples of story” (pg. 197-199).
Fiction as thought-experiment…create some combustion, a new compound on paper…lives, half-lives: a kinder, gentler meth.
That one was so so good, also the Hard Boiled Detective is absolutely great.
That one was so so good, also the Hard Boiled Detective is absolutely great.
‘a kinder, gentler meth’ that’s just awesome.
‘a kinder, gentler meth’ that’s just awesome.