'If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you'll probably want to know is where I was born, and what my lousy childhood was like, and how my parents were occupied and all before they had me, and all that David Copperfeild kind of crap, but I don't feel like going into it, if you want to know the truth.'
I don't know why, but I really like books that focus on the loss of innocence.
You could say I had a rough night so instead of not-not-sleeping, I decided to read “Catcher in the Rye” again, and as always the book did it's magic, and I felt a lot better. It's just one of those books that restores hope. Now, I'm probably not the only one who likes this book, but I am probably the last to hear about J.D Salinger's passing. Which really breaks my heart. Through the years I've grown quite attached to this book, every time something happens I read “Catcher in the Rye”, and things get better, and now the author is gone. It's weird, and unnerving but I guess that life.
You probably know the story: A year after every thing's happened, Holden sits down to tell the story of when he got kicked out of this fancy prep school, got in a fight with one of his friends, took a train to New York, where he asked a lot of weird questions about ducks, went to the hotel, had some drinks with some women at a bar, caught a cab, asked some more weird questions about ducks, went back to the hotel, met a woman who is defiantly a prostitute, after earlier meeting a woman who is maybe a prostitute, then didn't do anything with the prostitute, went to bed, woke up the next day, had breakfast with some nuns, and then I won't spoil the ending. Although I don't know exactly what about the book could be spoiled, I mean like spoiler! Life is hard, and sad.
Throughout the book Holden wonders why he keeps putting on and taking it off this red hunting cap. Poor Holden, you're putting it on because it's your protective shield. Now we could talk about that, or we could talk about how incredibly lonely he feels, like in the beginning of chapter 9, "The first thing I did when I got off at Penn Station, I went into this phone booth. I felt like giving somebody a buzz." So who does he call? Nobody! He has no one to call! It's the equivalent of opening up your cell phone scrolling through your contacts and realizing there is no one on that list who wants to talk to you. No matter who you are or what you do, that is a profound unjokes experience.
Then when he's on his way to the hotel he tries to talk to the cab driver about a question that's really important to his, "What happens to the ducks at the central park pond in winter?", and the cab driver won't even take him seriously. Then he call this girl who is probably most possibly a prostitute, and even she won't talk to him. I mean when you call a prostitute, and she won't talk to you, you're in dire straights. All he's trying to do in pretty much the whole book is talk to someone. So no wonder he needs that security blanket. No wonder he puts on the red hunting cap, after his teacher humiliates him, and only takes it off in situations where grown-ups would make fun of him for wearing it. I mean everyone who's hung on to a stuffed animal for too long, because it provides comfort, understands what the hunting cap feel like to Holden.
Also one more way for Holden to protect himself from the pain of the world, is that he says "you" when he means "I". Like, in chapter 11, when he's talking about holding hands with Jane, and he says, "You never even worried, with Jane, weather your hand was sweaty or not. All you knew was you were happy." Of course he doesn't mean you were happy. You weren't holding hands with Jane, but to put himself back in that situation is so painful, partly because he's remembering the feeling of intimacy with a person, which he no longer has with anyone, and partly because he's remembering that feeling of innocence, of playing checkers and holding hands. It's so painful to remember, that he can't say I. He has to take a step away from it, and say that it happened to you. It's so frakin' sad!
I think we can skip the women, the book is just a wee bit misogynistic, like when he talks about how once you get passed second base, girls lose their heads and can't control themselves. That's a little troubling.
So we could talk about the tension between innocence and experience, and how that red hunting cap, which is the same colour as his dead brother Allie's hair, is this kind of security blanket
for Holden that he holds onto. Or the ducks in the pond, and how nothing ever chances in the national history museum, which is what Holden likes about it so much. And that heartbreakingly sad moment at the end with the carousel, and the hat and Phoebe and everything. But actually now that I've reread the book I don't want to talk about any of that.
I want to talk about what I think is the real purpose of symbolism, and metaphor and all of the tricks that authors use to try to make you believe in stories in a deeper way. Peter Berger once wrote that "the difference between dogs and people, is that dogs know how to be dogs.", and it seems to me that one of the ways we come into this world not knowing how to be a person, is that we don't really know what to do about empathy. Like the weird thing about self-consciousness is that you become aware of the fact that you can never fully feel someone else's pain, and that someone else can never fully feel your pain. I mean the same goes for joy, but since we're talking about Holden we have to narrowly focus in on the pain.
Now that fact that empathy is a limited human talent is a good thing, because our brains are too small and too primitive to function if we're feeling everyone's pain, and everyone's joy, and everyone's excitement, and everyone's loneliness, and everyone's boredom all at the same time. The question is how do we get to a place where we can empathize with each other enough, to take care of each other enough, to get through this veil of tears. And this is where the fact that there are two Holdens in the story comes into play. There's the Holden this story is happening to and there's the Holden who's telling us about it. The Holden this story is happening to is almost a total failure at getting people to listen to him. Basically throughout the book he walks around, meets some people and tries to get them to listen to him, but they refuse. Then towards the end you think there's finally an adult who's actually finally going to listen to him, but then Holden wakes up to find the guy patting his head, and it's totally creepy and hugely sad. And if that's you're only Holden I have to say I don't see a lot of hope in this novel.
What I see in the Holden who the book is happening to is a kid who's alone, and afraid , and scared, and who no one hears, and who no one ever bother to listen to. Now you can blame this on the people that Holden reaches out to, or you could blame it on Holden himself. But the fact of the matter is it's no one's fault, because it's not our fault that empathy is inherently limited. Everyone in the book including Holden is self-involved. But they're self-involved, because that is the nature of being a person. So if you only think about the Holden who the story's happening to it's pretty frak depressing. It's when I think about the other Holden that I get hopeful, because a year later he's writing a story about the person he was and the way he writes the story makes us care. Now we are able to listen to him. Now we are able to empathize, that's the miracle of text I would argue, but it's also the miracle of non literal communication. The hunting hat, the movies, the carousel, that's his way in to us. That's how he gets inside of us and makes us care, makes us believe in him. Makes us realize that he is a person in the same way that we are. So all that "English class stuff" that students say ruins books, is actually Holden way into us, and our way out of ourselves.
'You know what I'd like to be? I mean if I had my goddam choice?'
'What? Stop swearing.'
'You know that song "If a body catch a body com'in through the rye"? I'd like-'
'It's "If a body meet a body coming through the rye"! Old Pheobe said. 'It's a poem. By Robert Burns.'
' I know it's a poem by Robert Burns.' She was right though. It is a body meet a body coming through the rye.' I didn't know it then, though. 'I though it was "If a body catch a body"', I said 'Anyways, I keep picturing all these little kids playing some games in this big field of rye and all. Thousands of little kids. And I'm standing on the edge of some crazy cliff. What I have to do, I have catch everybody if they start to go over the cliff - I mean if they're running and they don't look where their going I have to come out from somewhere and catch them. That's all I'd do all day. I'd just be the catcher in the rye and all. I know it's crazy, but that's the only thing I'd really like to do. I know it's crazy.'
Well it wasn't crazy.
Thank you.
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