I’m not breaking news with this bit: J.D. Salinger passed away today. What I want to mention was my few memories of his work. I have never been a big fan of his. Perhaps it is because I came to Catcher in the Rye relatively late in life: 25. I had already formed my notions of good writing and Catcher in the Rye wasn’t among them. Perhaps, too, I didn’t feel like I had to be fighting against something, the phonies. But his characterization of the everyone as a phony, while perfect for a teenager, felt silly, as if one was always powerless and the best one could do is call names.
I may reread it one day, but until then it will remain that work of youth I found too late.