Whenever I think about “mental images” or “a song stuck in your head” these days, I think about aphantasia and how that impacts perception. (Aphantasia is the condition of not seeing images or hearing sounds in your head – most of the population does, but those with aphantasia do not, or do to a very diminished degree.)
I’ve talked about how I don’t have locked mental images of my characters or their homes and such. Things can move around as needed – like a sofa can move across a room, or a lamp might change tables, depending on what the action needs. I assumed nobody actually had mental images, it was just an agreed-upon method of describing nonvisual imagination. Having found that’s not the case at roughly the same time as I was diagnosed with ADHD (a few months apart) I think about it a lot.
Recently I was playing with form and picked up the thread of an idea I’ve had for years, which is to write a novel as if it were a guidebook to the place you’re reading the novel about (I’m sure it’s been done before, and Italo Calvino has done something like it with Invisible Cities, I just think it would be fun to try). It occurred to me that while I don’t visualize things in terms of furniture in a living room or where people are in a space, I do have a firm and unchanging idea of what a city as a whole looks like, including some mental images.
Even before visiting Menton Garavan, where Fons-Askaz is located in an alternate world, I definitely knew what went where in Fons-Askaz. I know what the harbor and coastline are shaped like, where most of the local residential housing versus the tourist housing is, how the main street is shaped and where several landmarks sit along it, their names and what purpose they serve. I know where the one really divey dive bar is. And I do see images of all of them, but only partial – specific angles of sight, mainly (I can see both main entrances to the pedestrian shopping area called the Promenade, but not most of the Prom itself, for example).
When I considered this, I realized I could do it to a limited extent for Galia also, and for other fictional places I’ve written about, like Lea from Six Harvests or Low Ferry from Nameless. I could draw rough maps of most of those places – I don’t have the map itself in my head, but rather a combination of non-visual knowledge and a series of vague mental snapshots. I don’t know the actual layout of the palace, but I know what it looks like from the train station and I know what I would see standing at the windows in Gregory and Eddie’s apartment. I can see about three different views of Wild Mayer’s farm in Six Harvests, and I know the layout of Lea’s main street. It’s like for every fictional city or town that I’ve written about, I have a series of mental postcard images.
I have no idea why, or what it means. Probably it’s just that like many neurodiverse people I navigate by landmark, and I live in a city so recognizing urban landmarks and “views” is vital. I don’t need to “navigate” my apartment so I don’t care where the sofa is, but I have to know what the neighborhood looks like when we’re getting close to my bus stop so I know when to ring the bell to get off.
Possibly it means I should have become an urban planner.
Kind of fun, anyway, now that I’ve figured out I can do it. I can’t really “walk around” Fons-Askaz, but I can do a sort of flyover.
