Sunday, 15 September 2013

The Catcher in the Rye, by J.D. Salinger



Over the past month or so I’ve been delving into the icons and school-reading list staples of American literature, each with a particular view of their own decade: there was The Great Gatsby, which dealt with the high-class drunken rave that was the ‘20s, then I had a look at labouring-class misery in ‘30s Of Mice and Men, and now, completely by accident, I’m reviewing post-war middle-class teen apathy in the late ‘40s/early ‘50s with The Catcher in the Rye. I didn’t actually plan this; I just ended up following the pattern that seemed to be developing.

The Catcher in the Rye is the account of seventeen year-old Holden Caulfield, an apathetic and clinically depressed youth who is explaining to the reader about a particular episode in his life from a year before. After being expelled from school, Holden decides to drift around New York for a while before returning home to face his parents, and the subsequent novel is effectively the details of what he’d done and the people he’d met. That’s it essentially, although I would myself say it was really a teenager’s harrowing 48 hour trip through hell. The more time you spend with him, the more you realise how alienated and genuinely miserable this lad is, and the longer he spends wandering around, the more his condition deteriorates. As he goes on, he smokes himself half to death, drinks way too much, and goes almost without sleep for two nights running. By the end he’s a complete mess, and you’re right there with him.

The thing most apparent about the novel is its writing style. It’s a first-person account with an extremely colloquial edge, Holden’s lack of eloquence in his language and repetition of certain phrases and patterns of speech being the book’s major hallmark. What he does is, he puts his commas in unusual places, always talks about phonies, and all, and then usually drops in a short reinforcing sentence afterwards. Like this. He really does. It’s an interesting style, and it can get on the nerves sometimes, but I will give it 10/10 for its effect. It genuinely creates this voice of Holden Caulfield in the reader’s head, and whereas I’d usually read a book with sort of an idealised version of my own voice in my head (or possibly in the addictive gravelly voice of Rene Auberjonois (Odo) if I’d watched an episode of DS9 at any point that day), with The Catcher in the Rye I ended up with this strangely unfamiliar voice of a disaffected American teen speaking to me as I read on. This rarely happens for any book I read first-time, so something about the writing style definitely works. I mean it.

The writing style itself is so closely joined with the main character that it’s not really possible to separate the two. The writing style is the character of Holden Caulfield, and helps make him not just the main character of the novel, but its sole reason for existing. Caulfield spends the entire novel trying to find somebody to talk to who’ll actually listen to him in return, and in effect by reading his story, the reader is fulfilling his one desire of being listened to for once. He’s an excellent character, and while I personally found him a little trying at times, as I expect most people would if they met him in real life, it was difficult to not be drawn into his world and his dreadful experiences, and to feel genuine understanding for him. This is course is one of the main reasons for actually picking up a novel at all; to step into somebody else’s world and feel a sense of empathy for them or for other characters. The Catcher in the Rye is one of the best examples of this. Maybe you personally don’t like him, in fact I’d be more surprised if somebody did like him, but by stepping into his head we can get a sense of his own feelings, and can understand his near total isolation from everybody around him. He could put into writing what he could not convey in conversation.

One of the most apparent aspects to Caulfield’s psychology is his dislike (bordering on hatred) of people he describes as ‘phonies’. When something is phony, or phoney, it generally means that it’s not genuine; it’s counterfeit, or not real. Throughout the novel he calls just about everyone and everything a ‘phony’, usually when referring to actors and musicians, or his fellow students. They’re always ‘putting it on’, not behaving as they should because they’re just showing off, or following habit. Caulfield has a really big problem with these people, and it is one of the main things that is causing him to mentally withdraw from life in general. It’s indicative of his state of mind that he condemns so much of his surroundings and fellow-humans as not wholly real; nobody behaves as they should, and instead they’re just performing as though they’re on some personal stage. And if they’re not a phony, then he has some other reason for despising other people. About the only person he doesn’t think negatively of is his kid sister Phoebe, and children in general. They seem to be the only people who are wholly real.

So, in order to avoid veering off and starting a full literary review of the book, I’m just going to reign myself in here. It’s not a nice book, and reading it is not something you should do for fun, but it is definitely a rewarding experience. It is one of those things that you should definitely try at least once, because it offers a unique, character-building view of the world. Also I hear it’s one of those things that causes moral outrage in certain parts of the U.S., because it shows you in an unneutered way how life actually is and how people actually think – a bit like Slaughterhouse 5 in that respect, and that’s a good recommendation if ever I gave one. But one thing I advise, if you’ve never read this before, is to get through it as quickly as possible – that is, read the entire thing within a week or so, just in order to get the maximum effect from the book. It’s not an especially long story, and it’s not really the sort of thing you can read one chapter of and then leave for a few days before continuing – Caulfield’s recounting in excessive detail a very small amount of time of his life, and you really need to be right there with him as it happens. It’s not the sort of book you can really appreciate with any sort of detachment.

          [Have you read the book before? You can’t have seen The Catcher in the Rye The Movie before, because this is one of the few books in the world that has never been made into a film or anything. You either read the book, or no Caulfield for you. So if you know the book, then what did you think of it? Do you agree with this review? If you haven’t read it yet, has the review properly encouraged you to try it out? Any opinions, anything at all, then please comment, or put it in the old F.B, and I’ll know if I’m doing anything right or wrong. Thank You.]

Bibliograph
Salinger, J.D.  The Catcher in the Rye. Penguin: St. Ives. (1951).

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