Book Review - In the Land of Invisible Women: A Female Doctor's Journey in the Saudi Kingdom

Some of you may know that I have lately had a problem with reading novels. The problem is that I just can't pay attention to a novel for very long. I find myself uninterested, distracted, and left wanting something engaging. I don't know why I have this problem lately, especially considering my history of reading the same novel over and over again. At any rate, until this problem is solved, I will spend my time reading non-fiction. I picked up In the Land of Invisible Women by Qanta A. Ahmed, MD because it... wasn't a novel. That, and I've always wanted to learn more about women's issues in the Middle East. This book is a memoir of Dr. Ahmed's time spent in the Saudi Kingdom, written in a very engaging voice, making it almost like... a novel. But it's not a novel. Dr. Ahmed paints a surprising picture of the Saudi Kingdom through her accounts of the time she spent practicing medicine in this foreign territory.

At first, I couldn't believe that this book was non-fiction. Some of the events recounted by Dr. Ahmed are unbelievably shocking. The strict laws of the Kingdom create some unimaginable barriers for women. All women in the Kingdom, Muslim or not, are required to cover their hair when in public. Until very recently, women were not even allowed to drive in the Kingdom. Dr. Ahmed sheds light on some very interesting aspects of life in the Kingdom, few of which I was aware prior to reading this book.

Although Dr. Ahmed's descriptions of her experience are both intimate and interesting, I found parts of this book to be a bit disconnected. The memoir is written episodically, so a degree of "jumpyness" between chapters is to be expected. However, at times Dr. Ahmed's sequence of events would be confusing and difficult to follow. Additionally, Dr. Ahmed seemed to leave some ideas half-developed (the story of her almost-but-not-quite romance with a fellow doctor, for example), thus making them seem more like distractions like interesting side-stories.

I would recommend this book to anyone who would like to learn more about Islam and women's issues in the Middle East. A few warnings, however: The author is Muslim, but was raised in England and the United States, so her views are at times biased and a little naive. The book is also fairly long (464 pages), so you'll have to commit some time to reading it. It is fairly easy to get through, though, so don't let the high page count deter you. Also, there are a few graphic descriptions (almost all are medically-related, since the author is a doctor) that might be startling. Overall, this is a good read. Plus, it's halfway between a novel and sociological non-fiction, so it was a good genre for me. :)

Reading In a Digitized World

I was recently reading this article on the BBC. As I read the article (on my computer screen), I thought to myself, "Wow. That's amazing. Literally everything can be read in a digital format these days. I should write about this... on my digital journal (blog)." I am truly astounded by the pace at which digitization is moving. With each passing year, more newspapers are canceling their print editions, more publishers convert texts to e-book format, and more devices for accessing digitized materials are being developed. Some of these devices are pretty cool, to say the least. (Ever heard of the Kindle?)

Digitizing print is extremely convenient. Think of all the paper, space, and shipping costs we can save by reading digital books, digital newspapers, and digital magazines. Many university students don't really need to carry a bookbag anymore. All they need is a laptop. More than one of my classes last semester had a digital edition of the class textbook, which could be accessed on the Internet. I could literally have my textbook with me anywhere on campus--all it took to read my assignments was a few mouse-clicks. It doesn't get much simpler than that!

As convenient as all of this digitization is, I still find myself extremely attached to the feeling of holding a book in my hand and turning the pages one by one. There's just something about the look and feel of ink on paper that I just can't find anywhere else. Even though I have a blog, a Facebook, multiple email accounts, etc., I still keep a handwritten journal. (And that journal gets a lot more attention than this blog does, I can tell you that.) My dad teases me for being weirded out by the concept of reading from the screen of a cell phone. I know it's irrational to be put off by the thought of reading Othello on an iPhone, but it's true--I would rather carry around the printed edition, even if that means I'll have to use a bookmark, and a real pen if I want to take notes on the text. I know that means I'll have to carry a bigger purse, that I'll have to flip through pages if I want to find a specific line in the play (instead of doing a keyword search), that I might even get a paper cut, etc. but I am willing to make all of those sacrifices.

I'll try and find some explanation for my irrational attachment to printed books. I'll use Shakespeare as an example. (If I use Shakespeare, I will sound smart, thus removing some of your power to dispute me via digitized comments on this post. Bahaha.) One of the most exciting things about Shakespeare (and plays in general) in Elizabethan England was the fact that you could go to the printer's shop, hand over your money, and get your very own copy of Hamlet or Henry V or whatever was playing in the Globe. That copy was yours--bound as a folio or quarto--and you could take it home and read it with your family. You could literally hold someone's brainchild in your hands. There was a literal connection between you, the literary work, and the author of that work. The same thing is possible today. I know that, technically, holding an iPhone with the CompleteWorksOfShakespeare App is kind of the same, but really... it's not. It's the iPhone you care about and pay attention to, not the Shakespeare. A printed book is miles closer to the original format of whatever book you're reading, whether it's or Dracula or Goodnight Moon. And the dog-eared pages, scratched cover, and broken binding of your favorite book are things that you can't find in an e-book. I write my name in every book I buy, so I literally have a personal library of books that I care about. It just wouldn't feel the same to tag "JessicaCroft" onto TheCountOfMonteCristo.pdf . Nope.

So yes, my argument for printed books is mostly sentimental, barely based in the importance of historical connection and a return to tradition.... As great as it is to not have to run home to get my psychology book, because I can find it on the Internet, and as great as it is to Facebook and blog with my buddies, nothing will ever be able to beat the solid surety of paper and ink.

Measuring Intelligence

So, for those of you who don't know, I am majoring in psychology at BYU. Last semester, one of my psychology classes was discussing the topic of intelligence. The chapter on intelligence in our textbook spends about half of its pages discussing how to measure intelligence (IQ, etc.), predict intelligence (through genetics and schooling), and correlate intelligence and success (financial, social, etc.). Some of the concepts are very interesting, but as I read the chapter, I couldn't help wondering, "Why do we care about measuring intelligence?"

IQ tests and quizzes have got to be ranked among the most popular of Internet distractions. There are companies that make money by convincing people to order their IQ test results off the Internet, sometimes in the form of framed, official-looking printed certificates. Every third pop-up advertisement probes "How does YOUR IQ measure up to Barack Obama's?" The sidebars on Facebook constantly challenge users to see how smart they are compared to their Facebook cyber-friends. Why the obsession?

My thinking is that having intelligence is something valuable, of course, but that providing specific measures for intelligence doesn't do much good. Most members of the general population doesn't know how high or low her or his IQ is, and very few schools or businesses know the IQs of their employees. Intelligence tests themselves are often flawed in their development, and usually only measure a subject's intelligence in relation to the other subjects who have taken the test. Many intelligence tests automatically disadvantage individuals from countries other than Western nations, and many other tests are composed of seemingly random queries developed nearly ambiguously by psychologists and educators. Although there are many intelligence tests that are relatively well-constructed (i.e., Raven's Progressive Matrices Test), a small percentage of the population will ever need to know their intelligence scores in order to survive in daily life. If most people don't know the numerical measure of their own natural intelligence, then why do intelligence tests matter at all? People will possess a degree of intelligence whether they have been tested or not. What is the value in assigning a numerical value to an abstract, mostly inherently possessed quality?

One utility for knowing one's intelligence--one of the few that I have been able to come up with--is that knowing if one is "intelligent" might motivate one to work harder. It is a proven fact that people who are treated like they are intelligent and are told they are intelligent will perform better academically and in the workplace. So, in theory, being told you are intelligent might help you become more intelligent. However, if an "unintelligent" individual is told the truth--that he or she is unintelligent according to the intelligence test--then the intelligence scale acts as a punishment. Just as people who are told they are smart will act smarter, people who are told they are not smart will often perform at a lower rate. That being said, is it alright to lie to someone about his or her intelligence? Is it alright to lie and tell an unintelligent individual that he or she is intelligent if doing so could theoretically be beneficial?

So, back to my big question: Why do we care about measuring intelligence? Sure, it's nice to feel like you're intelligent, but it's got to hurt to feel like you're unintelligent. And how can you trust the method being used to measure your intelligence if its construction is flawed? What is intelligence, anyway? The concept itself seems to lack a concrete definition.

Long time, no post

Hi there. It looks like I have, once again, neglected my little patch of space in the digital universe. Oops. My bad.

Lots of things have changed since my last post (the U2 album is good, by the way). I finished my first year of college at BYU, which didn't seem to last very long at all. I've managed, somehow, to keep my scholarship, so in four months or so, I'll be back in P-town for another round of university education. For now, I'm back at la casa de mis padres for the summer months. I'm working, recovering from the trauma of moving from apartment to casa (How did ALL of that stuff fit into my tiny apartment?! Thanks for sharing the burden of moving, Mom.), and looking for volunteer opportunities to fill the endless empty hours that I suddenly have. It's amazing how much time 18 credit hours can take up in one's life.

To tell the truth, I feel a little bit useless with no exams to take, no edgy literature papers to write, and no psychology articles to annotate. That's why I need to find some worthy cause to which I can donate my time. I'm thinking of volunteering for the Christmas Box House... We'll see what happens! Also, blogpals, if any of you have a favorite cause that needs some help, let me know!

Anyway, here are a few picture from my Provo experience, just as proof that I really was away at school, and not just locked up in a room playing video games. (For the record, I don't play video games. Ever.)

Our cute FHE brothers: Seth, Brandon, and Mark

Studying... I think so, anyway.

Roommate photo! Love these girls

Averyl and I playing with broken jeans. And yes, I wanted to
make sure you could see all of my teeth in this picture.

It snowed a lot. This picture was taken in April. APRIL.

See, I cooked! Occasionally...

Mmm... Amish cinnamon bread. Totally worth the 10 days of preparation.