Escapism Without Imagery: Aphantasia and the Role of Literature

Published 20 March 2025 

By Helena Ghuman

How do people without mental imagery experience escapism? 

I’ve pondered this question since encountering a fascinating anecdote in Adam Zeman’s recent release, The Shape of Things Unseen: A New Science of Imagination. In his book, he recounts a conversation with an acquaintance who, after six years in prison, credited his survival to his active imagination. “His mind wandered far and wide in defiance of his physical confinement,” Zeman wrote. This immediately reminded me of a literary example in Albert Camus’ The Stranger, in which the protagonist, Meursault, survives his imprisonment by repeatedly reliving a single day from his memory.

In this article, I explore escapism without vivid imagery by interweaving psychological research and literary reflections. Specifically, I ask whether true escapism requires mental imagery or can be achieved through other channels such as memory, language, and emotion. For those with aphantasia who cannot watch a film play out in their mind as they read, this may offer fresh insights into how our differences shape our engagement with literature.

The Nature of Escapism

Merriam-Webster defines escapism as “a habitual diversion of the mind to purely imaginative activity or entertainment as an escape from reality or routine.” In psychology, this is often divided into adaptive (healthy and meaningful engagement) and maladaptive (unhealthy and avoidant) forms, with further distinctions between internal and external escapist tendencies. 

A brief distraction from reality can be beneficial in the short term, even helping us reflect and process our emotions. On the other hand, an overreliance on escapism may lead to harmful and potentially addictive coping mechanisms that negatively impact our quality of life. Research by Soffer-Dudek & Somer (2022) has explored maladaptive daydreaming as a dissociative disorder. Their work found that when individuals immerse themselves in vivid, avoidant fantasies to the point of emotional distress, it can interfere with daily functioning. This suggests that the way we use our imagination in times of stress is not uniform and may be particularly different for those with aphantasia.

Aphantasic Perspectives on Escapism

If a person’s capacity for immersive, visualised daydreaming is reduced, as is the case with aphantasia, might they adopt different coping mechanisms? Research by Milton et al. (2021) and Zeman et al. (2015) examined how individuals with aphantasia experience memory, imagination, and emotion. Their findings suggest that while aphantasic individuals report diminished visual imagery, they do not lack rich mental experiences – they simply engage with narratives in a different manner. Instead of picturing events, they often depend on internal dialogue, abstract thought, and conceptual processing.

So, if visual imagery plays a smaller role in escapism for aphantasic individuals, do they compensate by engaging more deeply with language, emotion, and memory? 

Those who cannot voluntarily form mental imagery might feel a greater need for stimulation through external means, such as film and video games, which offer immensely immersive visual experiences. Yet when circumstances feel confining or oppressive, books can still allow us to mentally escape to other worlds by living vicariously through characters’ journeys and momentarily forgetting our own struggles. Some aphantasic readers have described becoming absorbed in the logic and structure of a story rather than its sensory detail. This suggests that escapism might not be solely about visual transport but also about intellectual and emotional engagement.

Literature as a Tool for Escapism

Escapism, particularly through literature, can take different forms. Some readers seek total immersion by being transported to another world so vividly that they can almost see and feel it unfolding. Others engage with books conceptually, drawn to introspective narratives or philosophical themes rather than elaborate descriptions.

Psychologically, those with strong mental imagery may be more inclined to lose themselves in fictional worlds through vivid visualisation. Their escapism relies on the ability to mentally construct landscapes, characters, and scenes in a way that feels almost tangible. For those with aphantasia, the experience is markedly different. Without the ability to summon mental pictures, engagement with fiction might instead centre around emotional resonance, intellectual stimulation, or linguistic appreciation.

Research has begun to shed light on these distinctions. A study by Wicken, Keogh, and Pearson (2021) found that individuals with aphantasia have weaker emotional responses to scary fictional stories than those with strong mental imagery, suggesting that visualisation plays a role in emotional immersion. However, this doesn’t mean aphantasic readers do not engage deeply with stories. Rather than picturing scenes, they may focus on the psychological depth of the characters, the cadence of language, or the logical structure of a narrative.

Perhaps escapism isn’t always about stepping into another world, but can also be about stepping into another mind. Some literary works, such as Camus’ The Stranger, offer escape not through richly painted landscapes but through raw existential reflection. The reader is invited not to see a new world, but to think and feel through an entirely different perspective. In such cases, the power of language, emotion, and philosophical inquiry becomes paramount.

Conclusion

Escapism is often associated with the ability to vividly imagine new worlds, but this perspective overlooks the many other ways in which we can mentally ‘escape’. For those with aphantasia, literature can still provide a powerful form of escapism – one that relies less on visualisation and more on emotion, memory, and intellectual engagement. Rather than retreating into a mental film, aphantasic readers might find solace in stories that challenge their thinking, engage their empathy, or provide a sense of connection. 

While the experience may differ from that of readers who ‘see’ books play out in their minds, the ultimate effect remains the same: literature becomes a refuge, a means of enduring hardship, and a tool for understanding ourselves and the world in new ways.