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A review by trin
Raise High the Roof Beam, Carpenters and Seymour: An Introduction by J.D. Salinger
4.0
And that’s it! I’m done with Salinger. I can’t believe it. Well, there are still a few stories that were published and have been collected in weird, hard to find places, and I am working to find them. And [b: Hapworth 16, 1924|915081|Hapworth 16, 1924|J.D. Salinger|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1396325669l/915081._SY75_.jpg|3199125] is supposedly finally coming out next year. But now I’ve hit that inevitable point, moving through such a slim oeuvre—it’s over. I’m sad.
Raise High/Seymour wasn’t my favorite collection or duology—I loved [b: Nine Stories|4009|Nine Stories|J.D. Salinger|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1554892563l/4009._SY75_.jpg|1839377] best, definitely. But there are some wonderful things in both these tales. They are both narrated by Buddy Glass, but are incredibly different in tone: Raise High could almost be a madcap comedy, except for the shadow of what everyone knows Seymour will do hanging over it. And An Introduction is a long, meta, confused lament—I’m not sure I fully got every aspect of it, but I was moved nonetheless. Salinger’s prose is so beautiful, and the world he’s created—in sketches and brushstrokes that don’t always fully connect—is one I am desperate to keep exploring. It feels huge and ever-expanding, like real lives, like the history of a real family would be.
I hope that when Salinger dies, much much much more will be released into the world. I will refrain from hoping that this happens soon. I can wait.
Raise High/Seymour wasn’t my favorite collection or duology—I loved [b: Nine Stories|4009|Nine Stories|J.D. Salinger|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1554892563l/4009._SY75_.jpg|1839377] best, definitely. But there are some wonderful things in both these tales. They are both narrated by Buddy Glass, but are incredibly different in tone: Raise High could almost be a madcap comedy, except for the shadow of what everyone knows Seymour will do hanging over it. And An Introduction is a long, meta, confused lament—I’m not sure I fully got every aspect of it, but I was moved nonetheless. Salinger’s prose is so beautiful, and the world he’s created—in sketches and brushstrokes that don’t always fully connect—is one I am desperate to keep exploring. It feels huge and ever-expanding, like real lives, like the history of a real family would be.
I hope that when Salinger dies, much much much more will be released into the world. I will refrain from hoping that this happens soon. I can wait.