[Touch] [By: Josipovici, Gabriel] [October, 1996]

by Gabriel Josipovici, Unknown Author

Asking how it is possible to feel at home in the world, given that the world is independent of and indifferent to our wishes, this text draws on books, films and cultural history to argue that we can feel comfortable in the world and in relationships with others only if we value touch over sight.

Genres: Nonfiction, Cultural Studies, Criticism, Philosophy

Paperback

First published January 1, 1996

About the author

Gabriel Josipovici was born in Nice in 1940 of Russo-Italian, Romano-Levantine parents. He lived in Egypt from 1945 to 1956, when he came to Britain. He read English at St Edmund Hall, Oxford, graduating with a First in 1961. From 1963 to 1998 he taught at the University of Sussex. He is the author of seventeen novels, three volumes of short stories, eight critical works, and numerous stage and radio plays, and is a regular contributor to the Times Literary Supplement. His plays have been performed throughout Britain and on radio in Britain, France and Germany, and his work has been translated into the major European languages and Arabic. In 2001 he published A Life, a biographical memoir of his mother, the translator and poet Sacha Rabinovitch (London Magazine editions). His most recent works are Two Novels: 'After' and 'Making Mistakes' (Carcanet), What Ever Happened to Modernism? (Yale University Press), Heart's Wings (Carcanet, 2010) and Infinity (Carcanet, 2012).

Reviews

[Anima · Rating 5 out of 5]

Victoria Best’ s interview
(......)
GJ:
“One writes because one has to, not to explore or elaborate anything. The answer to the first is, I suppose, that I had read Proust and Mann and Kafka, and Mann had made me understand that our modern situation is different from anything that has gone before, and fraught with difficulty; Kafka had made me understand that I was not alone in my sense of not belonging anywhere or having any tradition to call on; and Proust had given me the confidence to fail, had driven home to me the lesson that if you come up against a brick wall perhaps the way forward is to incorporate the wall and your effort to scale it into the work. I had read Robbe-Grillet and Marguerite Duras, and been excited by the way they reinvented the form of the novel to suit their purposes – everything is possible, they seemed to say. But when you start to write all that falls away. You are alone with the page and your violent urges, urges, which no amount of reading will teach you how to channel. ‘Zey srew me in ze vater and I had to svim,’ as Schoenberg is reported to have said. That is why I so hate creative writing courses – they teach you how to avoid brick walls, but I think hitting them allows you to discover what you and only you want to/can/must say. Not always of course. The artistic life is full of frustrations and failures as well as breakthroughs. You are alone. No-one can help you. I think that’s what Picasso means when he says that for Veronese it was simple: you mapped out the territory, started at one corner and worked forward. But for us, he says, the first brushstroke is also the last.”

An excerpt from his book
“For Margreta, who will know why.“
prologue
“....It is, I think, because the notion of feeling one's way forward, of groping in the dark or semi-darkness, implies a testing of the way with the whole body. And although this method may be painfully slow, it is much less likely to lead me astray than if I relied on sight alone and had open country to cross and a bright sun to go by. In this way I will experience every inch of the way rather than suddenly finding that I have reached my goal with very little sense of the terrain I have passed through. If I can simply walk across the space that lies between me and my goal I may arrive there quickly, but then I will be left wondering whether I have really arrived or only dreamed....”

3. Boundaries

“I do not analyse my friend's words in order to try and understand what he is saying, I merely grasp his meaning. When I am reading a book I do not read words, I read the book; when I am looking at a painting I do not see brushstrokes, I see the painting. Of course the book may direct my attention to its words, the painting to its brushstrokes, just as my friend may make a pun or quote a poem, but that does not alter my essential relationship to the book, the painting or my friend.
At the same time it would be wrong to imagine that even my encounter with my friend is a totally natural occurrence. For it to work as it normally does we both have had, over the years, to learn the rules that underlie such events. For example, I will only respond to him rather than analysing his words and behaviour if he speaks to me in the language we normally use together and if he behaves in a predictable manner. Were he to start talking Italian, for instance, or to stand on his head while talking to me, I might still be able to understand him, but I would not be able to carry on a conversation with him. Instead, I would be trying to analyse his words and gestures in an effort to understand what had got hold of him.”

[Kokelector · Rating 5 out of 5]

No podré dejar de agradecer a esa trabajadora de librería que me recomendó este libro, aún no sé su nombre, pero tengo que volver a darle las gracias. En una serie de ensayos este profesor de literatura realiza un elogio del tacto y como este ha sido descartado muchas veces en la apreciación del arte. Desde las interpretaciones bíblicas hasta el cine, en donde los movimientos muchas veces nos expresan más que las palabras o los sonidos. Un libro casi perfecto para entender el entumecimiento que nos produjo la pandemia como sociedad: el alejarse, el dejar de tocarnos, el temerle a un otro u otra por miedo al contagio. Es una perfecta amalgama de ideas eruditas aplicadas a una realidad experimental en estos momentos. Gabriel Josipovici con una erudición encomiable nos traslada a sentir emociones fuera de serie con la palpitación que se siente al encender un cigarro hasta el beso de alguien a quien amamos. Una lectura que te transportara y te ayudará a sopesar mejor esta experiencia pandémica que vivimos alrededor del mundo.

(...) "𝘓𝘢 𝘪𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘪ó𝘯 𝘥𝘦𝘭 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘥𝘰 𝘥𝘦𝘭 𝘵𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘰: 𝘲𝘶𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘢 𝘢𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘰 𝘲𝘶𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘢 𝘢𝘭 𝘰𝘵𝘳𝘰 𝘺 𝘲𝘶𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘷𝘶𝘦𝘭𝘷𝘢 𝘢 𝘢𝘮𝘣𝘰𝘴 𝘭𝘢 𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘢./ 𝘔𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘴 𝘯𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘺𝘢 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘢𝘫𝘰, 𝘴𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘰 𝘪𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘪ó𝘯: 𝘮𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘴 𝘶𝘯𝘰 𝘯𝘰 𝘢𝘷𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘢 𝘦𝘭 𝘭í𝘮𝘪𝘵𝘦. 𝘈𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘰 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘯𝘪𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘢 𝘲𝘶𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘰 𝘯𝘰 𝘦𝘴𝘵á 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘰 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘢 𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘻𝘢𝘳 𝘦𝘭 𝘭í𝘮𝘪𝘵𝘦. 𝘗𝘢𝘳𝘢 𝘷𝘰𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘢 𝘭𝘢 𝘩𝘢𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘤𝘪ó𝘯 𝘷𝘢𝘤í𝘢. 𝘈𝘭 𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘫𝘰 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘰𝘴𝘰. 𝘈 𝘭𝘢 𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘤𝘪ó𝘯, 𝘢 𝘭𝘢 𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘭í𝘢 𝘥𝘦 𝘭𝘢 𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘤𝘤𝘪ó𝘯./ 𝘊𝘶𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘰 𝘶𝘯𝘰 𝘴𝘦 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘢 𝘵𝘢𝘭 𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘳 𝘱𝘶𝘦𝘥𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘻𝘢𝘳 𝘦𝘭 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘥𝘰 𝘥𝘦𝘭 𝘵𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘰." (...)

[Anna]

I am re-reading this for maybe the third time. Physiological philosophy has a soft spot for me. He writes almost tenderly, carefully crafting this work. For a piece of philosophy it is remarkably accessible and lovely.

[Amari · Rating 5 out of 5]

After my first experience reading Josipovici last year, my expectations for _Touch_ were extremely high. I was by no means disappointed.

[melis · Rating 2 out of 5]

1.5