Once upon a time in highschool,
The Catcher in the Rye was
my absolute favourite book.
Teenage alienation, heartbreaking honesty, razor-sharped sarcasm and damn-near-painful attention to the beauty of the world around you? I ate that stuff up completely. So much so that, time was, I used to reread the book on a semi-regular basis.
Time, however, passed. School courses and their accompanying piles of non-
Salingerean reading material built up like fat in the arteries. Something like 6 years passed with, unfortunately, relatively few thoughts towards
Holden Caulfield, his sister
Phoebe's carousel ride,
Maurice the Pimp,
Jane Gallagher's checker kings, or the birds in
Central Park.
That all changed today. Whilst wandering alone for a spell in London, I found my way into a nice used-bookstore and started browsing through the paperback fiction. Among the other names on the shelf,
J.D. Salinger's name burst out at me, and before I knew it, I was eagerly off to the front desk with book in hand.
I started reading
Catcher today with three years of English-major-experience behind me, and the result is that I started reading the book, I believe, more critically, and less for reasons of personal
credo or aesthetic pleasure. Which is not to say that I didn't find moments in the five chapters that I've re-read so far to reduce me to a
pile of quivering emotional jelly. Just that I've picked up on a few more things this time around.
Things such as Salinger's
nearly pitch-perfect attention to dialect. The characters in this book are anything but cartoons; they all speak in their own grammar and do so with
tics and
mannerisms that betray the most subtle elements of character shading. They seem like real people. Most obviously and famously, Holden's speech-notes ('goddamn phony', 'gives me a royal pain', 'blue as hell') make up the entirety of the book's text, but there are plenty of other examples abounding. Consider Stradlatter's cocky, chauvanistic swagger ('Hell no! I told you I was through with that pig.'), old Spencer's aged, semi-condescending academic-speak ('Have you yourself contacted them?'), Ackley-kid's sophomoric vitrol ('Boy I can't stand that sunovabitch. He's one sonuvabitch I really can't stand.'). Salinger is
spot-on.
Things, also, such as Salinger's eptitude for creating scenes. There's something deeply
cinematic about the presentation of the books's episodes, created in part through Salinger's afformentioned attention to character and dialogue. But there's also a painstaking detail-work -- Ackley's indiscriminate nailcutting, Spencer's Vick's nosedrops-smell, Stradlatter's atonal whistling -- that goes into the book's narrative, making it that much more rich and believable.
And all this is to say nothing, of course, about an attention to small, seemingly-unimportant-yet-in-truth-deeply-telling comments and events. The thought of Holden getting lost on the
New York Subway System with the fencing team fits perfectly with character and also forshadows his later escapades through the city at large. "Mother Darling, everything's going dark," Holden says while horsing around with Ackley; this will be a sentiment expressed many times over by our protagonist by the end of the novel.
Man, and these examples all come from the first 20 pages. I can't wait to dig into this book again.