Old Man Salinger (A Tribute)

If you really want to hear about it, The Catcher in the Rye is responsible for more first-person, angst-driven, teen-oriented literature than any other piece of fiction out there. And don’t get me started on movies, television, plays and other forms of prostitution that feature a young rebel protagonist all hell-bent against the establishment, you know what I mean? Bunch of phonies. I hate phonies.

Rock songs are okay. I wish we had Green Day, Third Eye Blind and The Offspring back in the 1940s. Those guys know angst. All we had when I was a kid was that goddam Sinatra who made the bobby soxers scream and swoon like nobody’s business. “Frankie! Frankie!” I’m not kidding. I’ll take Green Day’s “Boulevard of Broken Dreams” any day over Ol’ Blue Eyes’ “I’ll Never Smile Again.”

You know what’s the best thing about Catcher in the Rye? No movie version! That means no dilution of Old Man Salinger’s pure vision, if you want to call it pure. All the hacks came knocking on JD’s door, from Sam Goldwyn and Billy Wilder, to Steven Spielberg and Tobey Maguire and even Marlon Brando, for chrissake. JD just laughed in their faces and told them where to stuff themselves. That killed me.

So all these high school English teachers have ol’ JD to thank for giving the world a literary classic their students have to actually read instead of taking the coward’s way out and watching the movie. Yeah, there’s always the Cliff Notes version, but everybody knows Cliff Notes suck, you know? Once teenagers started actually reading about my adventures they entered into the magical world of books. No lie! JD, take a bow!

Anyway, Old Man Salinger did it his way. Sure, the guy was reclusive as Big Foot, but what rule says an author has to prostitute himself with marketing and merchandising? With absolutely no media adaptations to speak of, Catcher in the Rye still sells 250,000 copies a year! I’m not kidding. And the book is on just about everybody’s list of Top 100 novels of the 20th century, including Time and Modern Library, if that means anything to you.

The fact of the matter is, Catcher in the Rye succeeded solely on the basis of its merit as good literature. That’s it! What more could a writer want?

So rest easy, JD. Me and Phoebe and DB and Allie and Mr. Antolini all exist in the collective subconscious of several generations of teenagers, because of you! That’s all I’m going to tell about it.

Respectfully,
Holden Caulfield

PS: I’m still wondering where all the ducks in Central Park go when winter hits. That kills me.

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