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A review by __nyx__
The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger
4.0
Towards the beginning of this novel, I found myself heavily unable to connect with the narrator. He sounded like he was uttering the internal monologue of every single male student I have taught. A repetitive drone of “lousy” languaging. But, hey. That rings true (or so I can only assume) to how most every adolescent thinks. A limited vocabulary combined with a seemingly endless burst and variation of emotions can only end in thus.
However, as the book continued, I found myself inextricably linked to the ways in which Holden was thinking and feeling about things. I too hate “phonies” and the way people interact with one another. Sexually, and otherwise. And like Holden too, I just yearned for that emotional connection. Or something more. And I too mess around with people linguistically and find life and its little interactions “funny”.
But this narration has a very deep bellowing. Teenage angst, mental displacement, a rage against the system. Sure. It ends with Holden observing little Phoebe on the carousel, and commenting that “it was just that she looked so damn nice, the way she kept going around and around, in her blue coat and all.” Though one may feel blue at times, the beauty in life is its continuum and how it feels when, after you fall, you pick yourself up and keep going. And maybe Holden sees this occur only in the carelessness and naivety of youth, for once we age, we struggle to do so. Does he refuse or resent ageing? Perhaps both. Perhaps us older folk should too.
Wonderfully told, and eerily reminiscent of a true spirited youth.
However, as the book continued, I found myself inextricably linked to the ways in which Holden was thinking and feeling about things. I too hate “phonies” and the way people interact with one another. Sexually, and otherwise. And like Holden too, I just yearned for that emotional connection. Or something more. And I too mess around with people linguistically and find life and its little interactions “funny”.
But this narration has a very deep bellowing. Teenage angst, mental displacement, a rage against the system. Sure. It ends with Holden observing little Phoebe on the carousel, and commenting that “it was just that she looked so damn nice, the way she kept going around and around, in her blue coat and all.” Though one may feel blue at times, the beauty in life is its continuum and how it feels when, after you fall, you pick yourself up and keep going. And maybe Holden sees this occur only in the carelessness and naivety of youth, for once we age, we struggle to do so. Does he refuse or resent ageing? Perhaps both. Perhaps us older folk should too.
Wonderfully told, and eerily reminiscent of a true spirited youth.