I had every intention of writing a post about J.D. Salinger’s passing earlier, a little something about Catcher in the Rye…but it’s been years since I read it. I remember being confused by Holden Caulfield’s railings against “phonies,” not altogether sure whom he meant. Grown-ups as a whole, I suppose, and many of his peers.
All I can think in retrospect is that he was a young man with no understanding of why someone might find it necessary to have a public face as well as a private one. It never seemed to occur to him to have one, so no doubt he felt raw and exposed. But it’s a wonder he felt entitled to the most intimate selves of everyone, and felt gypped that he didn’t get it, especially considering the harshness of his judgments.
I wonder about Salinger, himself. (Who doesn’t, even now that he’s gone?) He seemed to have no public face either, by accident or design. His solution was to withdraw.
A great portion of the world waits, hoping for more stories left behind by a man who insisted his fan mail be burned (see: J.D. Salinger, Literary Recluse, Dies at 91). He didn’t seem to need the world. Some portion of the world seems to need him, though, still.
