Touching the Rock: An Experience of Blindness

The chapter on the sound of rain really changed my perspective on how we inhabit space. Hull describes the acoustic world not just as a backup to sight, but as a rich, three-dimensional landscape where every drop defines a boundary. To be fair, the prose is remarkably lucid, turning what could have been a depressing diary into a philosophical exploration of 'deep blindness.' I was particularly moved by his descriptions of his children; the way he has to learn their faces through touch and voice is heartbreaking yet beautiful. Personally, I think the fragmented nature of the essays works in the book's favor. It mirrors the way he has to piece his world together from disparate sensory inputs. This isn't just a book about losing something; it's about the courageous, exhausting work of gaining a whole new way of being. Truly a haunting and brilliant journey.

After hearing that David Bowie considered this one of his favorite books, I knew I had to experience it for myself. It is a marvelous, moving account that transcends the typical 'triumph over adversity' trope. Hull isn't interested in being an inspiration; he’s interested in being a witness to his own disappearing world. The way he describes the 'grey, overcast days' as good days because the temperature is mild is a small but powerful example of how his values shifted. It’s a very intimate look at a man trying to maintain his dignity as a father and a scholar while his primary sense fails him. Not gonna lie, the parts about his children asking how he 'knows' things without seeing them brought me to tears. It’s a short read but the impact stays with you for a long time.

Finally got around to reading this, and I'm struck by how much we take for granted in our visual-centric world. Hull's description of 'deep blindness' as a state where even the memory of light begins to fade is terrifying and beautiful all at once. The way he handles the topic with such tenderness and sensitivity is admirable. I particularly enjoyed the essay on how time ceases to be a factor because a blind person simply cannot rush through tasks in the same way. It requires a level of courage—both physical and emotional—that I never truly considered before. It’s a beautifully written journey into a world most of us will never know. Even if you aren't religious, the way he clings to his humanity and his role as a father is incredibly moving. This is a must-read for anyone interested in the human condition.

Wow. What a powerful, albeit fragmented, look at the transition from vision to darkness. The title 'Touching the Rock' perfectly encapsulates the grit and reality of Hull's experience. He doesn't sugarcoat the experience with 'inspirational' fluff; instead, he gives us the immediate, often painful reality of no longer being able to see his partner's face or read a physical book. The social interaction aspect—how he feels himself becoming a 'passive' object in the eyes of the sighted—was eye-opening. While some might find the dream sequences a bit much, I thought they added a surreal, psychological depth to his mourning process. It’s an honest, heartfelt, and ultimately marvelous collection of essays. It makes you realize that our similarities with the blind are far greater than our differences, even if the world we inhabit looks completely different.

Picked this up because I wanted to understand the psychological shift of losing one's sight later in life, and Hull delivers a very comprehensive look at that transition. He doesn't shy away from the 'shitty hand' he was dealt, but he processes it with a heavy dose of academic and theological rigor. Look, some readers might find the dream analysis and the religious questioning a bit tedious, but for me, it grounded the experience in a very human search for meaning. I found the sections on social interaction particularly insightful—how a blind person has to consciously mimic facial expressions like smiling because they no longer have the visual trigger to do so spontaneously. It makes you realize how much of our humanity is tied to visual feedback loops. A solid 4 stars for such a thoughtful, easy-to-read, yet profound memoir.

This book provides an insightful look at the many facets of blindness that the average person never considers. Hull captures the 'strangeness' of his new reality with a style that is both sensitive and intellectually sharp. I was fascinated by his observation that hearing is passive while sight is active—you can’t just 'shut your ears' the way you close your eyes. The truth is, it made me feel quite guilty about how much I take for granted, like being able to simply cast my eyes over the pages of a physical book. While the religious aspects didn't resonate with me as an atheist, I respected his dedication to finding a spiritual framework for his condition. It’s a beautifully written journey, though the lack of a cohesive structure makes it feel more like a collection of meditations than a standard biography.

As someone who appreciates a well-written memoir, I found Hull’s prose to be remarkably lucid even when discussing the most abstract sensations of loss. The book isn't a traditional narrative; it’s a series of fragments that build a map of a world made of sound and touch. I loved the nuances he found in a rainstorm, where the world is suddenly 'filled in' by the sound of water hitting different surfaces. It’s a fascinating look at the alienation of disability. However, I’ll agree with other reviewers that the religious referencing felt a bit much toward the end. If you can get past the heavy theology, you’re left with a very honest, heartfelt exploration of what it means to be 'a whole man' when you’ve lost the sense that most people use to define reality. A very rewarding, if occasionally slow, read.

Ever wonder what happens to your dreams when the world goes dark? John Hull spends a massive amount of time on this, and frankly, it got a little repetitive for me. While the first half of the book is a fascinating account of the transition from sight to blindness, the latter half gets bogged down in dream interpretation and some pretty heavy-handed religious reflections. I appreciate his honesty, but I struggled with his passivity in social situations. There’s a lot of what some might call internalized ableism here; he often apologizes for his blindness as if it’s a burden to the sighted people around him. It’s a touching account, no doubt, but I wish it had focused more on his daily adaptations and less on his subconscious. Still, his writing on the 'loss of the horizon' was incredibly evocative and worth the read.

Not what I expected, specifically regarding the heavy theological overtones that permeate the second half of the journal. I was expecting a more clinical or perhaps more adventurous account of blindness, but Hull is a religious man, and his faith is the lens through which he views his struggle. Some of his insights are profound—like the conscious effort required to smile—but others felt buried under layers of dream analysis that went nowhere. Personally, I found the pace to be a bit sluggish because of the repetitive themes. He mentions the same struggles with his children and his career multiple times without much evolution in the narrative. It’s a sad and touching account, and the writing is certainly high-quality, but it felt more like a private catharsis than a book written for a general audience. An okay read, but be prepared for the religious weight.

To be fair, I found the author's constant apologies for the 'inconvenience' of his existence quite frustrating to sit through. As a reader looking for an empowering perspective on disability, this wasn't it. Hull seems to submit so readily to the passivity that sighted people expect of the blind, and his internalized ableism is honestly astounding at times. He treats microaggressions against his dignity as acceptable, which made it very hard for me to stay sympathetic toward his journey. Also, the obsession with analyzing every single dream he had felt like filler. I was hoping for more practical observations on navigating the world, but instead, I got a lot of questionable theology and self-pity. While his prose is decent, the tone was just too disheartening and submissive for my taste. I wouldn't recommend this to anyone newly blind.