esrosedotblog

IMPRESSIONS revised

My early adult life was almost totally in sync with the years of J.D. Salinger's writing.

Catcher in the Rye was written in 1951. I was 14.

By the time I got to MIT, this work was part of the 20th Century canon and I studied it in my sophomore year.

It is now required, if at all, at high school level. So is calculus. About the same level of complexity, in my book.

Everything comes earlier to kids now. A good thing. I wasted so much time because they fed me pap.

Salinger produced further works at a slow speed which allowed me to catch up to him. For awhile I identified with Seymour Glass, his continuing main character, until Seymour committed suicide in Banana Fish. Gulp. Talk about pulling the rug out from you. But then there were other Seymour works. Different times. Different Seymour. Wonderful.

I loved the Glass family and I wished I had one like it. Sort of. Part of the time. I thought, as Seymour, I could straighten them all out.

I couldn't even straighten out my own family. Or me, for that matter.

I read everything Salinger wrote. Since I had started reading the New Yorker in my freshman year, I didn't miss a thing. That is where Salinger was.

Then, like Seymour, Salinger committed a kind of suicide himself. He quit writing. For years we waited for more. For a word. Nothing, to this day.

Still Paging Mr. Salinger

Imagine.

He is going to be 90. He is still alive. Mystery of disappearance unsolved. No one even looks for him to appear personally any more.

But still, there are those rumors about shelves of unpublished works. The Glass family chronicles. Other novels.

I don't know what, if any, his influence is today. Just another author for the young reader?

I doubt it.

Holden Caulfield still holds out a light for a different path.

At depth, the other stories told of our times. We felt like his characters. Some of the same stuff was happening to and for and with us.

Perhaps those were unique feelings of that generation. Perhaps the the writing is timeless.

I think I will pick them up again and see what's happening as I read them now.

J. D. Salinger. Hang on, baby. You had the stuff and I bet you still do.

Labels: reading