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How to Feel: The Science and Meaning of Touch
We are out of touch. Many people fear that we are trapped inside our screens, becoming less in tune with our bodies and losing our connection to the physical world. But the sense of touch has been undervalued since long before the days of digital isolation. Because of deeply rooted beliefs that favor the cerebral over the corporeal, touch is maligned as dirty or sentimental, in contrast with supposedly more elevated modes of perceiving the world.How to Feel explores the scientific, physical, emotional, and cultural aspects of touch, reconnecting us to what is arguably our most important sense. Sushma Subramanian introduces readers to the scientists whose groundbreaking research is underscoring the role of touch in our lives. Through vivid individual stories—a man who lost his sense of touch in his late teens, a woman who experiences touch-emotion synesthesia, her own efforts to become less touch averse—Subramanian explains the science of the somatosensory system and our philosophical beliefs about it. She visits labs that are shaping the textures of objects we use every day, from cereal to synthetic fabrics. The book highlights the growing field of haptics, which is trying to incorporate tactile interactions into devices such as phones that touch us back and prosthetic limbs that can feel. How to Feel offers a new appreciation for a vital but misunderstood sense and how we can use it to live more fully.
263 pages, Kindle Edition
Published February 2, 2021
13 people are currently reading
259 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 7 of 7 reviews
January 4, 2021
How to Feel: The Science and Meaning of Touch, by Sushma Subramanian was, I have to confess, somewhat disappointing in its depth and breadth, but is overall a solid work of non-fiction, mixing hard and soft sciences with a healthy dose of more personal/memoiristic writing.
The author’s context for the exploration into touch is the idea that we have, at first gradually and recently much more quickly, lost, well, “touch” with touch. Instead, we since the Industrial Revolution and particularly since the digital revolution, prioritized vision to the near-exclusion of our other senses, removing ourselves from the tactile world we move through, with the most extreme example of this being virtual reality.
The journey through the world of touch incorporates several side-trips. One is the actual physiological science behind how we touch—the various elements and mechanisms of the process, such as mechanoreceptors (“sensors that detect different kinds of deformation by the body”), nociceptors (pain), and thermoreceptors (heat and cold); fast and slow (relatively) nerve fibers that carry the messages from the receptors to the brain; and the parts of the brain, such as the somatosensory cortex, that are heavily involved in processing those messages.
Another trip is through softer sciences such as sociology and psychology, where Subramanian delves into touch-averse people, or why we now need “professional cuddlers” (yes, a real paying job), or how different cultures have different ways of dealing with touching (while carefully noting how cultural or regional generalizations are just that—generalizations only).
She also interviews not just scientists but also artists and people whose lives have somehow been greatly affected by touch, often via the loss of it. These interview subjects include a man who feels nearly no sensations at all (one of fewer than a dozen such people), an engineer/inventor who runs Volkswagen’s haptics group, an artist using virtual reality to treat chronic pain, a woman who has a type of synesthesia where “certain surfaces could make her feel highly specific reactions, from blissful to troubled . . . corduroy made her confused . . . leather made her displeased.”
Finally, as noted, she also brings herself into the story beyond as an interviewer. She describes her experiences in a sensory deprivation tank or taking a massage certification course, as well as casting a close eye on her family’s attitudes toward touching and how it may have affected her own touch aversion, something she further explores with her fiancée through the long-distance magic of haptics.
As stated in the intro, this was a solid non-fiction book, covering the basics of touch scientifically while bringing in engaging personal stories via the interviews. Several aspects though prevented this from being more than solid for me. One is that the prose, while certainly fluid and lucid, was more workmanlike than anything else, lacking the lyricism or sparkling enthusiasm or humor of my favorite non-fiction authors, such as Mary Roach, Dava Sobel, Bill Bryson, or others. Another is that I would have preferred more hard science generally, as well as a better balance between the hard and soft sciences. The book felt it relied a little too much on psychology or sociology studies, the sort of thing I always am hesitant to ascribe too much weight to without a plethora of supporting, multiple studies (to be fair, Subramanian very early on specifically calls out the problem with a lack of replication in these areas as fair warning to the reader). And lastly, the personal areas fell flat for me, partly I think due to style and partly due to not feeling like the author was opening up enough, digging deep enough. Though again to be fair, part of my response could also be because I do read a lot of personal lyric essay (as well as try to write it myself), so this could be an expectations issue more than a writing issue.
So in the end, How to Feel fell short of what I’d hoped for, though I never felt like stopping my read, nor did I begrudge finishing the book. A solid three kind of work that somewhat informs but not quite to the degree I prefer and without the brio of my favorite non-fiction works.
The author’s context for the exploration into touch is the idea that we have, at first gradually and recently much more quickly, lost, well, “touch” with touch. Instead, we since the Industrial Revolution and particularly since the digital revolution, prioritized vision to the near-exclusion of our other senses, removing ourselves from the tactile world we move through, with the most extreme example of this being virtual reality.
The journey through the world of touch incorporates several side-trips. One is the actual physiological science behind how we touch—the various elements and mechanisms of the process, such as mechanoreceptors (“sensors that detect different kinds of deformation by the body”), nociceptors (pain), and thermoreceptors (heat and cold); fast and slow (relatively) nerve fibers that carry the messages from the receptors to the brain; and the parts of the brain, such as the somatosensory cortex, that are heavily involved in processing those messages.
Another trip is through softer sciences such as sociology and psychology, where Subramanian delves into touch-averse people, or why we now need “professional cuddlers” (yes, a real paying job), or how different cultures have different ways of dealing with touching (while carefully noting how cultural or regional generalizations are just that—generalizations only).
She also interviews not just scientists but also artists and people whose lives have somehow been greatly affected by touch, often via the loss of it. These interview subjects include a man who feels nearly no sensations at all (one of fewer than a dozen such people), an engineer/inventor who runs Volkswagen’s haptics group, an artist using virtual reality to treat chronic pain, a woman who has a type of synesthesia where “certain surfaces could make her feel highly specific reactions, from blissful to troubled . . . corduroy made her confused . . . leather made her displeased.”
Finally, as noted, she also brings herself into the story beyond as an interviewer. She describes her experiences in a sensory deprivation tank or taking a massage certification course, as well as casting a close eye on her family’s attitudes toward touching and how it may have affected her own touch aversion, something she further explores with her fiancée through the long-distance magic of haptics.
As stated in the intro, this was a solid non-fiction book, covering the basics of touch scientifically while bringing in engaging personal stories via the interviews. Several aspects though prevented this from being more than solid for me. One is that the prose, while certainly fluid and lucid, was more workmanlike than anything else, lacking the lyricism or sparkling enthusiasm or humor of my favorite non-fiction authors, such as Mary Roach, Dava Sobel, Bill Bryson, or others. Another is that I would have preferred more hard science generally, as well as a better balance between the hard and soft sciences. The book felt it relied a little too much on psychology or sociology studies, the sort of thing I always am hesitant to ascribe too much weight to without a plethora of supporting, multiple studies (to be fair, Subramanian very early on specifically calls out the problem with a lack of replication in these areas as fair warning to the reader). And lastly, the personal areas fell flat for me, partly I think due to style and partly due to not feeling like the author was opening up enough, digging deep enough. Though again to be fair, part of my response could also be because I do read a lot of personal lyric essay (as well as try to write it myself), so this could be an expectations issue more than a writing issue.
So in the end, How to Feel fell short of what I’d hoped for, though I never felt like stopping my read, nor did I begrudge finishing the book. A solid three kind of work that somewhat informs but not quite to the degree I prefer and without the brio of my favorite non-fiction works.
May 20, 2021
Really well thought out exploration of the sense of touch. I enjoyed the mix of hard and soft sciences, the perspectives from other fields like philosophy and literature, and the author’s own experiences and personal reflections. While there was some familiar material, it was mostly new to me. More importantly, it inspired me to live more in the present and to be more thoughtful about how I engage with and experience my surroundings and the environment.
April 13, 2022
Talk about a book that enamours you completely, not only by its subject but also by its intricacies. Reading and discovering more about the most disregarded sense - 'Touch' and other paradoxes of isolation and intimacy was fascinating. We use every atom of our body, consciously or subconsciously to touch and feel things as it is a core of our existence. If we find something unbelievable or devoid of reality, we immediately pinch ourselves to make sure that it is real and not surreal. 'Touch' is the most powerful yet most undermined of all the senses and recent times have made us appreciate it even more. Remember the time when meeting, hugging or holding someone became a luxury? How we endlessly stared at our screens to catch a glimpse of our loved ones virtually, when meeting in flesh was a far cry from reality? This book by Sushma Subramanian encapsulates varied nuances of 'Touch' ranging from little joys of everyday life to haptics, bionic technology, professional cuddlers, loss of touch, virtual reality, professional cuddlers and other ramifications of technologies. It was one of the best reads that gave me such an indepth understanding of a sense that we so least value.
February 6, 2022
When MC Hammer released “U Can’t Touch This”, he wasn’t talking about the impact of physical touch on us.
The author of “How To Feel” focuses on this underrated part of the 5 senses: Touch.
It’s such a critical sense for our overall well being. And it’s also being a deprived of us which we have initially self inflicted in creating a digital world where we talk, date, play and e-meet. Now it’s been exasperated with Covid where we are taught to isolate and wear masks and not be physical with let alone be near anyone.
Enjoy being hugged by family and friends. Enjoy the condolence of a touch on the shoulder during times of grief. Enjoy the feel of walking on grass in your bare feet.
The author of “How To Feel” focuses on this underrated part of the 5 senses: Touch.
It’s such a critical sense for our overall well being. And it’s also being a deprived of us which we have initially self inflicted in creating a digital world where we talk, date, play and e-meet. Now it’s been exasperated with Covid where we are taught to isolate and wear masks and not be physical with let alone be near anyone.
Enjoy being hugged by family and friends. Enjoy the condolence of a touch on the shoulder during times of grief. Enjoy the feel of walking on grass in your bare feet.
February 25, 2021
Such a relevant read during a time when touch has been more restricted than ever. In this digital world, we've put touch on the back burner, often connecting with others via devices primarily. This book has made me stop, think and appreciate the feelings and textures of my favorite things - like petting my dogs or a favorite sweater. Sushma does an excellent job of taking a very scientific topic and making it relatable to all. Highly recommend!
July 29, 2021
I've been thinking a lot about touch lately, as are a lot of us, since going back to hugs and all. So when I saw this at my local bookstore, I picked it up. I learned so much! The author has a very clear, engaging way of writing. She writes about technology, relationships, biology, history - a big range of fields. Definitely recommend.
May 22, 2022
I heard the name of this book being mentioned in a podcast on diamond sutras by david james. i learned a lot from this book. she takes us on a journey and meets some people and shares her personal thoughts and experiences along the way. she makes a very important point in this book. its a must read.
Displaying 1 - 7 of 7 reviews