Touching

Camille Scaysbrook (verona_beach@hotpop.com)
Wed, 29 Sep 1999 20:30:06 +1000 

To enter into the spirit of things I made a decision to thoroughly re-read
Hapworth 16, pencil in hand for notes and page-scoring double underlinings.
I did read said tome, it seems like a long time ago but is probably a year
and a half ago - and, let's face it, it's a difficult book not to skim a
*little* - but it's about time to give it the proper once over. So like it
or not you'll be hearing my thoughts on it (:.

The first thing - and I've been meaning to bring this up for ages - how
tantalising is Buddy's opening statement of Hapworth's miraculous relation
to a story he is `currently writing'! How tempting to be given that small
peek into Safe Salinger. Imagine the insights we would gain into Hapworth
had we been allowed to read its sister story. It seems almost purposely
taunting to mention it, if Salinger intended and planned (and it's not at
all improbable) that Hapworth should be his final public utterance.

I had a long think about Seymour's obsession with the word `touching'. In
the context in which he uses it, it's quite a peculiar word when you think
about it, and an appropriate one, because it conjoins the physical with the
mental - it is at the same time a tactile and spiritual world. To touch
someone can be an entirely tangible or entirely intangible experience.
However, Seymour strikes us as such an untouchable, impenetrable character,
but the fact that the world seems to touch him without him touching it is
significant. There is something so strange and sterile in the way he
expresses obviously inexpressible emotions and feelings: `Oh my God I am
relishing this leisurely communication!' It's as if he strives to touch, or
to express the way in which the world has touched him, but isn't quite sure
how to do it. I was always puzzled at the way a committed student of Zen
such as Salinger seemed to abandon the traits of succinctness and
under-reliance on words to such an extent. Perhaps his message is that
words are *so* false; are so misrepresentative of the emotions they attempt
to evoke as to be merely perfunctory in themselves. That is, words should
not be evocative because it is impossible for them to evoke, only describe.
Unfortunately this also
gives a Teddy-like impression of supreme detachment which, as I said, makes
the character of Seymour himself strangely untouching.

There is of course also the constant motif of `touching' in Seymour's story
- I think in particular of the famous quote about the scars on his hands
from touching certain people, the girl he threw the stone at because she
was so beautiful, the kissing of Sybil's foot ... all forms of touching
where the attempt was to merge the spiritual and physical sense of touch.
Hmmm. More on Hapworth later, but I'd like to hear everyone's thoughts.
Like it or hate it, as Salinger scholars we can't afford to ignore it.

Camille
verona_beach@hotpop.com