Madman Stuff (JD Salinger in general)

Member Name: Peakly

Product:	JD Salinger in general
Date:	03/08/01 (592 review reads)
Rating:

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Of course, if you were to visit Yahoo and type a search on ‘J D Salinger’, you’d be guaranteed to find everything you need or want to know – a lot more then this opinion has to offer, at least. And I wouldn’t blame you, because I’m no expert, see? I’m just a fan, and fans are no good for anything except blowing your papers all over the room and cutting your fingers off if you get to close. I’m just the ten-trillionth product of a Salinger-tatted adolescence, still to this day equally delighted and chilled by his skilful encapsulation of every ache and frustration endured by myself and countless others, during a frightful, ever perilous journey into adulthood. My only qualification: the fragile memories of reading, feeling, and crying into sleep. Achieving brief, perfect silence within my thoughts with gutsy sighs of relief, caused by twilight revelations and cutting observations from a man whom I could trust for now and beyond tomorrow. Salinger, who could stimulate like no other writer ever did, or ever could. Salinger, who said more in a single book or story, then the world had revealed to me in a decade of observation. Oh, and this friendship was made long before I knew he was a recluse. It was before learning he was still alive. It was made and affirmed, in a the mind of a boy I miss, and of which I am so fondly reminded, in more songs and poems then recollection alone can allow. And please, forgive me my bitterness, at contempories that befriend Fred Durst and the Beckhams instead.


His full name is Jerome David Salinger, and he was born on the first day of the year 1919, in New York City, America. Other things for you to read with partial interest include the following:

As a child, Salinger lived on Manhattan's Upper West Side and attended Valley Forge Military Academy in Pennsylvania. I don’t know much about his family, not without some research, though I do know a bi
t about his writing history, which I am presuming to be more interesting. He published around 35 short stories during the years 1940-1965. For the early part, they appeared the Saturday Evening Post (and other short story magazines), for the latter, the New Yorker. Thirteen of these stories together constitute his three, non-Catcher In The Rye books – Franny & Zooey, Raise High The Roof Beam Carpenters/Seymour: An Introduction and For Esme ~ with Love and Squalor. Jumping forward to present day, Salinger is reported to be alive and well, living in his house in Cornish, New Hampshire, which he bought back in 1953. All sorts of myth surround his character – mainly that he lives firmly as a recluse, and refuses to speak to anyone from the press of media (however, there remains a story that he once agreed to an interview with a young girl for a local newspaper). Another story is that Salinger, having testified in court during 1986, continues to write, though in a ‘bunker’ located somewhere on his property, and with at least two completed manuscripts.

Please forgive the gaps in my knowledge – as confessed earlier, any of this and more can be found quite easily on the internet. Salinger worship is thick and simple to tap into – even on Dooyoo alone. I don’t really want to go any further down the biographic route, because personally I find all that stuff a bit boring. What’s fun is saying all the nice things about his writing. It’s classing him as the best, and I mean the best.

Because let’s face it – who’s better? Tell me. Tell me a writer that can create anything like the atmosphere and mood found in every of Salinger’s narrations. Show me a story like A Perfect Day For A Bananafish, that can engage readers and take them so many places in such a ridiculously short amount of words. Present me with someone capable of taking a bland, uneventful story, and making i
t something with more magic and more truth then a novel of fifteen parts. I don’t think you can.

‘Cos that’s my favourite part, at least. The finest work from Salinger, in my opinion, could only be For Esme ~ with Love and Squalor (and other short stories). Take any of those stories, pick which ever you like. The same thing will stand out. How much is said in such little space. Salinger isn’t a beautiful writer in the traditional sense of the word. He doesn’t decorate his story in tiresome description, or unnecessary examples of his skill, he writes with piercing direction and confidence. He makes us players, not observers. Underlining everything, is honesty, and a worrying truth. What I love so dearly about Salinger's work, is how confident and assured it is. He doesn’t rely on titillation, or imagination, only a calm, masterful approach to real people and real life’s. It’s the occasional sentence, that comes out of no-where and somehow contains so much truth and accuracy within it that you’re filled with adoration and gratitude for the pages within your hand. That moment of clarity, that connection with your story-teller, that is so sadly lacking from a lions-share of literature.

And the delicate message that shines brightly through every story, that in your mind you understand perfectly but could never explain out loud. The ambiguity, the symbolism, the cutting finale that makes so full a story of pages fewer then twenty. It’s something rare and special. Again, with the connection, again, with the warm, even tears that flow from finding something so beautiful and so unique. Again, with the heart so full and mind so keen, and the words, like spring-water flowing over and down your head, cleansing in their utter truth. Characters so precious and tender you hold their hand, even when they suffer some devastating dissection at the hands of their creator, or some effo
rtless, shattering observation of their nature.

And should we talk about innocence? Because in it’s most simplistic, easily digestible terms, innocence, childhood, growing-pains and teen-angst is what Salinger communicates and comments upon most frequently, particularly in most-famous novel Catcher In The Rye. The most perfect, convincing child of fiction is surely the small girl in A Perfect Day For A Banana fish, who’s tiniest of appearances struck me as more realistic and believable then an entire book of Enid Bliton (sp), Jacqueline Wilson (sp) or any other writer supposedly famed for their ability to write about (or, arguably, for) children. Lose of innocence, adults being wistful about their youth, the surprisingly intelligence and unbiased outlook of a child – all variations of this popular artistic theme are presented in their finest examples by Salinger.

Though to say his ability to encapsulate the innocence of youth is the limit of his ability would be untrue. Coupled with his love for children, is a devastating condemnation of adult man, and the ugly traits of human-nature. In CITR – the key word ‘phoney’, living behind lies, faking our interest in others, small-talk, a greater concern with appearing happy then actually being happy. In Franny – a woman’s boredom and disregard of the future expected of her, a hatred of convention, and a contempt for those so keen to follow the most predictable of paths. All assaults on a society and generation convinced by appearance and apparent success. Alarmingly relevant in the 50s, surely worse still at present day?

Yet for all the relevance, accuracy or wit of these ideas, what matters most is how successfully they are communicated. And again, we’re presented with near perfection. Salinger’s writing style is unique, and fresh. Easily detectable for the right, fullest reasons. Be it through illuminating, expertly-paced
dialogue, or wide-probing, simple accounts for action and thought, Salinger’s strength is always in the character he creates then the adventures upon which they embark.


And I guess I could say more. I could be more personal, or more factual, or strive for more of the in-between, but I honesty don’t feel there’s much more to say. How best to communicate a passion? How better to inform you of a love, an admiration, and a respect? Maybe if I were a better writer, I’d know. As it stands, I can only present you with what I have, and this parting thought.

For every time you’ve looked back on your life, and yearned so deeply for the person you once were, there’s Salinger. For every tear you’ve wiped, or heavy-heart you’ve carried, there’s Salinger. For every foot you’ve stomped, or wall you’ve punched, and for every single time you’ve been brought to tears a instant later by beauty, he’s there. He’s there to guide you, and engage you, and be as much as a friend to you as he has been to me.

And if the passion I’ve described, can bring you only to amusement, then it is you Sir I pity, and you who shall miss out. J D Salinger, is surely one of the few things that make life worth living. Grab it, all of it, firmly with both hands.

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