Blowing Air Through the Nose: Haddon's Subtle Mind Reading

“Mind reading is the name of a capacity that most humans (and perhaps some other primates) possess as well as the name of the emerging field within cognitive psychology devoted to studying it—a field burgeoning with new books, research papers, and think pieces. Most of the research has come from the fields of child development and autism research since mind reading is relatively easy to measure: children develop mind reading skills in predictable stages, and many autistics seem to lack mind reading capacities.” – Blakey Vermeule, “The Cognitive Dimension” (p. 34)

“Siobhan also says that if you close your mouth and breathe out loudly through your nose, it can mean that you are relaxed, or that you are bored, or that you are angry, and it all depends on how much air comes out of your nose and how fast and what shape your mouth is when you do it and how you are sitting and what you said just before and hundreds of other things which are too complicated to work out in a few seconds.” – Mark Haddon, The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time (p. 15)

     In many ways, the first half of The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time serves as a diagnosis for its main character Christopher, who evidently has some kind of autism spectrum disorder. In chapters that often alternate between plot development and character insight, Christopher narrates several episodes that could be taken right out of a textbook.

     For example, he tells the story of when he was younger and a teacher performed the classic Theory of Mind test on him by hiding a pencil inside a Smarties tube and asking him what his mother would think was inside the tube. Christopher says, “When I was little I didn’t understand about other people having minds” (116). He admits to still having trouble with this, but by applying logic and his acute memory, he is able to guess at what people are thinking by what they are saying or doing.

     Haddon also uses these episodes to comment on the way non-autistic people view the world. The novel, as told from Christopher’s point of view, functions as a vehicle for empathy, and Christopher’s insights often point out flaws in human thinking as well as illuminate similarities between his mind and those of other people. After describing how he approached developing his own Theory of Mind by picturing minds as computers, he goes on to illustrate how brains really are like computers: “People think they’re not computers because they have feelings and computers don’t have feelings. But the feelings are just having a picture on the screen in your head of what is going to happen tomorrow or next year, or what might have happened instead of what did happen, and if it is a happy picture they smile and if it is a sad picture they cry” (119). In this way, Haddon subtly reflects these themes back at his readers, attempting to prompt a level of introspection comparable to Christopher’s.

     One of the most fascinating devices Haddon utilizes to both develop Christopher’s condition and communicate with the reader is the image of people blowing air. In the passage excerpted above, Christopher outlines how difficult it is for him to perform mind reading on this physical gesture with his impaired Theory of Mind capabilities. Here, Haddon highlights the immense debt that non-autistic people owe to their neural networks. As Vermeule points out in her article, we are mostly unaware of our mind reading operations because they are ingrained and automatic. By enumerating the difficulties posed by attempting to mind read with an abnormal neurological toolkit, Haddon seeks to create empathy for Christopher’s condition as well as invite the reader to consider his or her own condition.

     The air-blowing motif serves this dual role throughout the novel, cropping up in several places to draw attention to Christopher’s lack of mind reading and signal to the reader that unobserved emotions are at play.

     For example, when Christopher is being questioned at the police station, his blunt honesty complicates the interview—another embedded comment by Haddon on our social interactions and the lies we tell about our intentions—the interrogator is described in the following way: “The policeman closed his mouth and breathed out loudly through his nose” (18). Christopher narrates this observation without comment, but it alerts the mind-reading reader that he is exasperated with Christopher’s inability to cooperate properly.

     Later, after Christopher and his father have returned home and Christopher asks his father if he is sad about Wellington: “He looked at me for a long time and sucked air in through his nose. Then he said, ‘Yes, Christopher, you could say that’” (21). Clearly, Haddon intends here for the reader to understand that a concealed emotion is at play; we recognize the lie, even if Christopher doesn’t.

     Instances such as these pepper the novel. Mrs. Alexander “suck[s] in a big breath” two different times when Christopher questions her about Mr. Shears (57-58). His father does it again when he comes clean about his affair (121). These situations provide glimpses into the minds of characters beyond the scope of Christopher’s point of view. While he does not have access to their minds, through Haddon’s adroit use of body language imagery, the readers do. In this way, Haddon not only highlights Christopher’s handicaps and generates empathy for his protagonist, but he also illustrates how Christopher affects those around him in powerful and emotional ways.