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Salinger & Innocence

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I felt the urge to read Salinger last week. I ran through Nine Stories and got through “Franny” in Franny and Zooey. Raise High the Roof Beam, Carpenter is next.

Salinger gets a bad rap as being kid’s lit, mainly because of The Catcher in the Rye and all the associations it has with goofy teenaged boys and the not-goofy death of John Lennon.

I’m not convinced that Catcher in the Rye best represents what Salinger tries to say in his writing. Sure, Holden Caulfield is a well written character and touches upon the angst that dwells within young men. Yet, Salinger’s goal didn’t seem to be the production of a “young adult” novel similar to Judy Bloom’s Are You There God? It’s me, Margaret. Salinger weaves far more serious, adult issues into Catcher… as he does into his other work.

In fact, looking at Salinger’s work, you can see his obsession with a single idea: the loss of innocence. In story after story, Catcher… included, Salinger contemplates how innocence exists (or doesn’t) in a world that includes death, dishonesty and suffering.

I contemplated innocence a few years ago on this site. After the last week, the idea floated back up to the top of my mind. For some reason, Salinger was the first thing I thought to read.

His work was a balm as I asked myself questions about innocence, suffering and death. His writing touches upon these things without being too analytical. He mixes this central question of “adult innocence” with excellent character development and creates stories that draw you into the discussion, into the conflicts that are entirely within the heads of his characters. (That’s another important thing I noticed this time: Salinger’s conflicts are psychological, not physical.)

After re-reading Nine Stories and Franny and Zooey, I am impressed with Salinger in a way I couldn’t be when I first encountered these as a teenager. I see the stories, now, through a lens that feels like it is similar to Salinger’s as he wrote..not as a “young adult” lens in which everything was colored by angst and outrage.

Perhaps that’s just testament to Salinger’s skill - I felt like he was writing “to me” when I was 17 and now when I’m 37. Or, perhaps, I just know more today than I did then. I hope the latter is true.

I’d argue that Salinger’s work isn’t a rallying cry or a rebellious manifesto. It’s not intended as literature for young adults. His is elegant and simple work that simply asks “why” in an appropriately adult way.

That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

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