renay: photo of the milky way from new zealand on a clear night (Default)
This week I learned about the Golden Poppy Award! I'd never heard of it before.
The California Independent Booksellers Alliance (CALIBA) presents the 2025 Golden Poppy Awards in recognition of the most distinguished books written and illustrated by creators who have made California their home.

There's tons of categories, I made a direct dash to the Octavia E. Butler Award for science fiction, fantasy, and horror.
I dug into the Intergalactic Mixtape archives to see what reviewers were saying about these books, because this is one of my most favorite nerdy things to do. I had reviews for Automatic Noodle, The Night and the Moth, Notes from a Regicide, and Red City. Alas, I had none for Kill the Beast, which is interesting because it came out in October, after I had expanded my review sources. But! The mixtape is still a baby.

If you like reading multiple opinions of books, this may interest you! Read more... )

Posted by Frank Jacobs

To the casual observer, a London taxi driver is just a guy who knows a shortcut to Heathrow and has strong opinions on local weather and politics (“This bloody Starmer and his leftie government”). But to a neuroscientist, that cabbie is a miracle of neuroplasticity.

Why? Because you can’t become a London cabbie without mastering “The Knowledge.” As they cram the chaotic layout of one of the world’s most complex city grids into their heads, aspiring cabbies don’t just learn a map. They physically redesign and grow their brain.

A “brainbuilding” exercise with unexpected side effects

This “brainbuilding” exercise comes with a couple of unexpected side effects, one slightly negative, the other amazingly positive. But first, a bit of history.

Let’s rewind to 1851, when The Knowledge was born out of chaos. That year, the Great Exhibition — a Victorian extravaganza of crystal palaces and curious inventions — drew massive crowds to London, overwhelming the horse-drawn hacks of the day. Cabbies were getting lost, and fares were furious. To prevent further navigational anarchy, authorities created an exam to ensure cabbies actually knew where they were going.

A black cab and a red double-decker bus drive past Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament in London under a clear blue sky.
To a neuroscientist, a London cabbie is a miracle of neuroplasticity. Each one has physically redesigned and grown their brain. (Credit: Will & Deni McIntyre via Getty Images)

The test that ensued was a beast of a challenge. “The Knowledge of London” is widely regarded as one of the toughest vocational tests in the world. It requires drivers to memorize the labyrinthine web of streets within a six-mile radius of Charing Cross, the traditional midpoint for measuring distances in London.

This is an area of about 113 square miles (293 km2) of urban spaghetti. For comparison, that’s about five times the size of Manhattan — but instead of straight streets and avenues, you have crooked lanes and ways.

The area encompasses about 25,000 streets, which candidates must learn by heart. But that’s just the skeleton. The meaty bit is the 100,000 landmarks they are expected to know and locate: hotels, hospitals, theaters, police stations, courts, clubs, parks, statues, and more.

The Knowledge takes two to four years to master.

The backbone of The Knowledge is the 320 so-called “runs”: basic routes canonized by Transport for London in the Blue Book, the Bible for would-be cabbies.

Studying The Knowledge is not something you do only in the evenings and weekends. It’s a full-time occupation that entirely takes over your life.

On average, it takes “Knowledge Boys” (the affectionate name for candidates; there is only a smattering of “Knowledge Girls”) two to four years to master The Knowledge. Five years is not an exception, but 18 months — the fastest so far — is. You can see them scootering around the city, clipboard strapped to the handlebars. They spend up to 15 hours a day on the road, literally shouting out the names of streets and landmarks as they drive — a popular memorizing method.

A detailed street map of central London with a thick black circle overlaying the city, encompassing the River Thames and surrounding neighborhoods.
London taxi drivers must learn all 25,000 streets and some 100,000 landmarks within a six-mile radius around Charing Cross, as indicated by the black circle. (Credit: Learning The Knowledge: How London Taxi Drivers Build Their Cognitive Map of London – CC BY 4.0)

In total, candidates log anywhere between 30,000 and 50,000 miles (about 48,000 to 80,000 km) on the scooter. That’s roughly once or twice around the Earth. Without using GPS — that goes without saying.

Examiners grill candidates in a grueling one-on-one oral test. They are asked to recite several routes (“Manor House Station to Gibson Square”), naming every street, every turn, and every roundabout on their trip. At any point, they can be requested to name the landmarks to their left or right. Or the nearest police station or hospital. Or to reverse on the spot. A slight hesitation is enough to cost them points.

Only 20% to 30% of starters survive the process and earn their green badge. Famous failures include Roger Moore, the suavest James Bond, and Stephen Fry, Britain’s most famous polymath.

Use it or lose it

Today, an army of 24,000 licensed cabbies (only 3% of whom are women) ply the streets of London in the traditional black cabs. Since 2021, they have been allowed to use satnav, but they must still be able to do without. The government protects the profession by allowing only black cabs to be hailed on the street (all other hired car services — minicabs, Uber, and the like — must be pre-booked).

As they learn and practice their profession, London cabbies don’t just fill their brain with knowledge — the knowledge literally changes their brain.

In 2000, the MRI scans that neuroscientist Eleanor Maguire took of London cabbies showed they all had a significantly larger posterior hippocampus — the seahorse-shaped nugget in our brain tied to spatial memory and navigation. The more years of experience a cabbie had, the larger their hippocampus.

Later research clarified that while those who had passed the exams had measurable hippocampal growth, this was not the case for those who failed the test. It was also shown that when cabbies retired, the hippocampus shrank back down — “use it or lose it,” indeed.

This supports the theory that the brain is not so much a bucket to be filled, but a muscle to be trained. The transformation in the hippocampi of London cabbies is so dramatic that they’re regularly cited alongside musicians, bilinguals, and jugglers in textbooks about adult neuroplasticity (i.e., the ability of the adult brain to reshape itself by training).

Four maps show accumulating location points marked with pins, increasing in density from left to right, with each map labeled "+ 80 Runs" and arrows indicating progression.
Trainee cabbies must learn 320 “runs” in within the six-mile radius around Charing Cross. These maps indicate the chronological progression of learning the origin and destination pairs of each route. The network gets denser as time goes on.(Credit: Learning The Knowledge: How London Taxi Drivers Build Their Cognitive Map of London – CC BY 4.0)

But cabbies are in a league of their own: Their brains don’t just learn maps — they become maps.
A 2021 study shows how trainee cabbies learn by layering streets like a living GIS system, turning abstract geography into visceral knowledge. This gives them lightning-fast planning abilities, which is why experienced cabbies can navigate more efficiently than “Butter Boys,” the slang term for newly licensed cabbies.

Crossing Vauxhall Bridge on a windy day

Training for The Knowledge is both spatial and embodied. Trainees do not merely read maps — they trace the city with their bodies, building a three-dimensional mental atlas through repeated, multi-sensory immersion. This teaches them what crossing Vauxhall Bridge feels like on a windy day and the angle of the left turn onto Shaftesbury Avenue.

Another study made a useful distinction between taxi drivers and bus drivers. Although both spend long hours behind the wheel, cabbies creatively navigate London’s spaghetti bowl of streets, while bus drivers follow fixed routes. That explains why bus drivers don’t have enlarged hippocampi.

All that work building a mental map of London pays off in more ways than one. The specific area that cabbies bulk up is often the first to atrophy as Alzheimer’s strikes. Recent research suggests that taxi drivers (and ambulance drivers) have some of the lowest mortality rates due to Alzheimer’s. It seems that a lifelong practice of spatial processing builds up a cognitive reserve against the onset of the disease, which is often experienced as spatial disorientation.

MRI brain scan highlighting the anterior hippocampus in red and the posterior hippocampus in blue, with corresponding labeled legend.
The anterior and posterior hippocampus, the latter being the locus of our spatial memory and navigation skills. (Credit: Maguire et al, via turor2u – public domain)

There is, however, also one downside to having a pumped posterior (back) hippocampus. Mental real estate being finite, there is bound to be a trade-off, and studies show that it is a slimmer anterior (front) hippocampus. This has negative implications for cabbies’ non-spatial visual memory.

Specifically, cabbies performed below average on the Rey-Osterrieth Figure Test, which requires subjects to draw complex, abstract shapes from memory. In other words, by hyper-specializing their brains to store a massive, detailed map of the city, it seems cabbies sacrificed some ability to process other types of visual information. Not knowingly or willingly. But the brain enforces its own urban planning.

Most cabbies would be willing to pay that small price for their mastery of The Knowledge. In fact, their cognitive maps are so unique that some computer scientists have studied cabbie navigation to improve GPS routing algorithms by mimicking their more intuitive routing practices. Yes, humans may yet teach machines something about how to navigate a city.

The Knowledge is living proof that the brain is a gloriously malleable instrument that can change with our evolving needs even into adulthood. We can train it to contain an entire city, even one as notoriously untamable as London.

The next time you take a black cab in London, marvel at the living atlas behind the wheel. Know that the driver has a posterior hippocampus larger than yours. And that he or she’s earned it, one London street at a time.

Strange Maps #1283

Got a strange map? Let me know at strangemaps@gmail.com.

Follow Strange Maps on X and Facebook.

This article Memorizing London’s 25,000 streets changes cabbies’ brains — and may prevent Alzheimer’s is featured on Big Think.

sonia: Statue of liberty passionately kissing blind Justice. "Liberty/Justice is my femslash" (liberty justice)
I had a good day today. Biked to the farmer's market, and then went to the new year's party at my gym. I didn't know gyms had parties, but this one was fun. Friendly people, and several bodyworkers offering free 20 min sessions (I got a massage!) and free drinks from the cafe next door.

I biked over to the ad hoc Balkan and Georgian singing group that meets once a month, and we successfully sang a bunch of songs, even ones that were newer to us or that we hadn't sung in a while, like Tsmindao Ghmerto. Felt great!

Then I got home and caught up on the news. Augh! Via [personal profile] redbird, I was reminded about the Stand With Minnesota site with lots of organizations we can support to help their anti-ICE effort. I donated some money to Just The Pill.

Adding Minnesota Indian Women's Resource Center via [personal profile] ofearthandstars in comments. They are listed under Organizations Doing Work On The Ground.

On the plus side, I'm so glad we are collectively screaming about ICE, not just passively letting it happen. So grateful for the people bearing witness, physically resisting, and sending support from afar.
sonia: Quilted wall-hanging (Default)
There is a general strike called for Friday January 23 in Minnesota. Stay home from work if it feels right, and definitely don't cross any picket lines, including the electronic ones of shopping at big corporations like Amazon, etc. (if you can avoid it).

From my union:
"This is a verified page fundraising support for the Minneapolis Regional Labor Federation, AFL-CIO and Working Partnerships' 2026 rapid response effort to meet the needs of impacted union members, worker center members, and their families..."
https://workingpartnerships.betterworld.org/campaigns/support-impacted-union-families

Here is how you can help:

Posts by [personal profile] naomikritzer

How to help if you are outside Minnesota.

She covers a variety of topics, including how to start preparing for if and when this shit comes to your home state, and the suggestion to talk About immigration, and make it clear you think it’s GOOD.

If you are in Minnesota.
sonia: Quilted wall-hanging (Default)
I saw this go by on Mastodon, and it stayed with me, so I'm reposting it from Tumblr by [tumblr.com profile] nitewrighter. (First few comments are worth reading.)
Me: I don't get it. I thought I was doing a lot better than I was a few years ago. I'm like 10 times more on top of things than I used to be. How does everything feel terrible now?

The Tiny Me in OSHA-approved Hi-Vis Gear Who lives in my brain and pulls all the levers: Boss, it's the fascism. You're completely gunked up with cortisol due to the fact that your entire daily life is now underscored with a haunting awareness of the rapid erosion of your rights, dignity, and any and all social safety nets, and you're also bearing witness to the most vulnerable people immediately being persecuted. This creates a natural stress response that basically means you're going to continue having memory and organizational problems, as well as emotional imbalances.

Me: BUT I HAVE A BULLET JOURNAL AND I MEDITATE NOW.

Tiny OSHA Me: BOSS, THE FASCISM.
sonia: Quilted wall-hanging (Default)
Run your massage therapy practice so that people aren't relieved (as well as pissed) when you stand them up.

Nope nope nope )

When we were first discussing schedules, she offered to refer me out, which I did appreciate, except one of her referrals was someone I've already seen who wasn't a great fit for me, and the other is someone I traded with over 20 years ago who's connected with my very estranged ex. Fortunately she's way up in the hills, so I could use that as an excuse for saying she's not a good fit.
sonia: US Flag with In Our America All People Are Equal, Love Wins, Black Lives Matter, Immigrants & Refugees are Welcome, ... (tikun olam)
How to Temporarily Disable Face ID or Touch ID, and Require a Passcode to Unlock Your iPhone or iPad by John Gruber.
Just press and hold the buttons on both sides. Remember that. Try it now. Don’t just memorize it, internalize it, so that you’ll be able to do it without much thought while under duress, like if you’re confronted by a police officer. Remember to do this every time you’re separated from your phone, like when going through the magnetometer at any security checkpoint, especially airports. As soon as you see a metal detector ahead of you, you should think, “Hard-lock my iPhone”.
sonia: Quilted wall-hanging (Default)
I'm training for a 100K bike ride in April, so I'm going out on long hilly rides on the weekends. The weather has been delightfully sunny and warm (if a bit odd for January), and they've mostly been great rides.

However, people seem to assume they need to cheer me on. Maybe because I'm a woman, or because I'm not skinny, or because I climb hills slowly, but I do get there.

Half way up Spruce St., a woman waiting to pull out from a side street in her car gives me two big thumbs up as I approached. I smiled and kept biking. That would have been fine. But she rolls down the window and says, "You can do it!" I said, "This is only the thousandth time I've climbed this hill." She was smiling and nodding, and then her face fell as I said "thousandth," probably because she was assuming I would say, "first." Maybe she won't make as many assumptions next time.

Then, getting close to the top, a couple of guys pass me on mountain bikes and one of them says, "Good job!" I said, "You too!" After all, we had both climbed the same hill to the same point. He looked surprised, because young men get to congratulate middle-aged women, but not the other way around.

Yesterday I biked up the hill, down the far side, and then back up. At the corner of Grizzly Peak and Claremont (the beginning of the steep fast descent out of the hills), there is often a Mexican produce stand, and I like to stop there for fruit, even if it tends to end up bruised on the ride down. This time I bought pistachios and mandarins, and they did better on the descent.

When I rode up, there was an older white dude arguing about his total in Spanish with the young Mexican woman staffing the stand. They started over counting it all up and it turns out she was right (surprising me not at all). He said something about buying fruit for his friend with the nasty flu, and I said I was keeping my distance then. He said, "I didn't touch him or anything."

He had been over on the seller's side of the table, and now he came around and said, "Nice bike." I thanked him and answered his questions about it. At this point he's touching the handlebars and standing quite close to me, blocking my way forward. I paid the seller and said, "Excuse me please." He said, "Why do you have to be so rude?" I said, "I need to go home." He said, "You're being rude!" I sighed and backed up the bike to get out of there. He said, "Why do you have to be so American?" as I rode away.

Reminds me of the time a guy on a bike stopped me to ask for directions on a dark rainy night in Portland. I'm generally willing to help, but it was a wide, empty street and he stood too close and blocked my way, at which point I similarly said, "Excuse me" and biked around him. He called after me, "Don't go! I need help!" Which he may have, but he wasn't going to get it with threatening body language. He had a European-sounding accent and maybe it was ignorance of American personal space, but I wasn't going to ignore my spidey-sense to find out.

This dude at the fruit stand spoke unaccented English, so I don't know if he's from somewhere with less personal space, but I don't think I was the one being rude. I guess wherever he's from, he gets to touch other people's (women's) stuff and take up as much time as he wants.

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