今回の旅行は基本的にプライベートで、友達と過ごすことがメインだったのですが(ちなみにリンカーン・センターでMurray Perahiaのリサイタルを聴きました。その純粋な音楽性が素晴らしかったです)、唯一の仕事関係のミーティングで、コロンビア大学出版の編集者とランチをしました。コロンビア大学出版のオフィスは、コロンビア大学のキャンパス内にあるのかと思いきや実はそうではなく、なんとリンカーンセンターのすぐ向かいの、一等地(マンハッタンはどこでも一等地ですが)の眺めのいいビル。オフィスの雰囲気からして知性と感性が感じられて、そこにいるだけで賢くなる気持ちがするほど。私が今回会ったのは、人文系、とくにアジア関連の書籍の編集責任者をしているベテランの女性編集者で、私が今手がけているプロジェクト(すでに契約済みなのですが、まだ現在進行中のプロジェクトなため、具体的な出版の予定が立ってから公表いたします)で一緒に仕事をさせていただいている人です。ランチに出かける前に彼女のオフィスでおしゃべりをしながら書棚をじろじろ眺めていると、刊行ほやほやの一冊のカバーに惹かれ、手に取ってみたのですが、その解説をみて、ムムム!「これは絶対読まなくちゃ!」とおおいに興奮してぺらぺらめくっていたら、よほど物欲しげな表情をしていたのか、「じゃあそれ持って行っていいわよ」と言われていただいてしまいました。それが、この本。『The Philosopher's Touch: Sartre, Nietzsche, and Barthes at the Piano』
The unity of the self is a construction that hides the personal dissonances and rhythms with which we never cease to compose. And playing an instrument, far from expressing who we are, engages us in the experience of an active passivity and a different time. My choice of these three writer-philosophers--Sartre, Nietzsche, and Barthes--comes from my interest in temporality as a window, an opening onto the self as subject to compositions. The piano is assuredly not the only path to free oneself from the collective rhythms of society. Nevertheless, playing the piano is no simple hobby, no mere violin d'Ingres. I believe, through my own long experience with this instrument, that it engages a unique disposition to the world, to past generations, and to the contemporary. Among the signs confirming such an intuition, I note that the musical activity of these thinkers often contravened their public works. The discordances thus revealed allow us to approach this gap and take a step to the side. We can observe the unchaining of the will and the play of the body that result under the constraint of touch and tempo . . .
How are we to explain such a gap between listening and playing, between public discourse and private pleasure? Is it imposture? contradiction? dissonance? a secret conservatism? The reality is less clear-cut. More interesting for us is to follow this path of escape through which one's synchronous self can become disoriented with unsuspected rhythms. In this gap, in this path of escape, we can see a complex movement develop in the relation of a subject to the intersection of different times: chronological, historical, and singular. These debates cannot be reduced to questions of taste or to some imagined compatibility among musical genres. Instead let us ask what happens when an intellectual like Sartre retreats from the noise of this world to play Chopin. How do those who profess themselves to be abstract thinkers experience emotions, the body, and touch? How do they find themselves implicated and disconcerted by these feelings, these movements, and these durations of time?