9 November 2019 | New Scientist | 53The back pages Feedback
Quick lit
Exciting news for those struggling
to catch up on back issues of
New Scientist: colleges in China are
offering courses in speed-reading,
promising students the ability
to zip through texts at 20,000
words a minute.
We got wind of this story
(a t a m u c h s l o w e r p a c e)
via China Daily, which published
a viral video showing students
flipping through whole books in
seconds. The bookworms, filmed at
a reading competition in Yancheng,
Jiangsu, are said to be practising
“quantum speed-reading”, a
technique pioneered by Japanese
educator Yumiko Tobitani.
According to a website run by
Ruwan Education – a New Zealand
outfit that offers courses in
quantum speed-reading – the
technique “does not require the
book to be opened at all”, noting
that it can be “simply held up
in front of the reader’s face and
the pages are flipped rapidly
using the thumb”.
Even better than that, quantum
speed-readers can read books
while blindfolded, and practitioners
can understand books written in
any language. Well, if you can’t
see the words, why would it matter
that you don’t know what they say?
Quantum speed-reading also
promises to improve your memory
and intuition, shorten sleep
duration, heal skin blemishes,
improve your golf score, make
you win the lottery more often,
find lost cats, summon people
by thinking of them, grant you
precognitive powers such as
telepathy and clairvoyance, and
unlock psychokinetic abilities.
Yes, those are all genuine benefits
listed by Ruwan Education.
Speed isn’t everything, of
course: comprehension also
has its upsides. Feedback has
now spent what feels like
hours reading about quantum
speed-reading, and we are none
the wiser on how this technique
is supposed to work. On the
plus side, we have found an
awful lot of lost cats.
Lamb & Mint Sausages”, which
are manufactured by “The English
Sausages Ltd” of Auckland, using
New Zealand lamb. A blow to
anyone hoping the UK will be
an export powerhouse following
Brexit: it seems the world already
makes its own British goods.Dirty business
In New Delhi, the Khadi and Village
Industries Commission has
launched a campaign to promote
traditional handicrafts, such as
bottles made from bamboo and
soap made from cow dung. Since
the Hindu nationalist Bharatiya
Janata Party (BJP) came to power in
2014, the cow – a sacred animal in
Hinduism – has enjoyed a
resurgence in popularity, and the
market for beneficial bovine
byproducts is stacking up.
Readers may recall that the
Indian ministry for traditionalmedicines, AYUSH, previously
announced plans to raise a
generation of super-children by
feeding women pastilles made
from cow dung (28 September).
Good nationalists, meanwhile,
are brushing their teeth with cow
urine toothpaste and washing
their bodies with cow-dung soap.
A handwash that contains the
very thing you wash your hands
of does sound like a cunning plan
for a self-perpetuating business.
But in reality, cow-dung soap
contains only ash made from
dried and heated cowpats.
This ingredient is said to be an
excellent exfoliant with healing
powers that are as extensive as
they are unproven.
Feedback has issued an
office-wide email: if any of our
holidaying colleagues want to
bring back a traditional souvenir
from India, we would love a bottle
made from bamboo. ❚Nom det corner
We promised we’d give it up, but
just can’t help ourselves. Anne
Barnfield writes to say that as a
specialist in equine facilitated
therapy, her name is rather apt.
And Jim Ainsworth spots Mark
Bridge writing in The Times about
a bridge design by Leonardo
da Vinci. Regular reader Ben Haller
is right to point out that Feedback
is stuck in a positive feedback loop,
and every example of nominative
determinism further fuels the fire
of addiction. This is unsurprising,
given that it is itself an example
of nominative determinism.No-air mail
Robin Adams notes that those
writing letters to the Newbury
Weekly News must supply “a
terrestrial address”. “Does this
discriminate unfairly against
aliens?” he asks. Feedback is more
concerned for the publication’s
financial health. In these trying
times for print media, overseas
readership is not to be sniffed at.Fantasy food
More on the food labels that
under-promise and over-deliver:
the “cheese and onion flavour
potato snacks” consumed with
relish by Maggie Delaney are
“made with real ingredients”.
“Personally, I’d be much more
inclined to buy the product if it
contained unreal ingredients:
fairy dust perhaps or one of
Santa’s helpers or a leprechaun,”
which would be much more
interesting than boring old crisps,
says Maggie.
Which makes us ask: how do
you know there aren’t unreal
ingredients in your food? You can’t
prove a negative. Checkmate,
science.Brits abroad
Robert Bevan Smith finds himself
unable to resist an offering in
a supermarket in Wellington,
New Zealand: “Traditional WelshGot a story for Feedback?
Send it to New Scientist, 25 Bedford Street,
London WC2E 9ES or you can email us at
[email protected]Twisteddoodles for New Scientist