Then, after seeing some people who fared better than me in some way or the other, I decided that I was amongst the best. I once had this feeling when I was younger that I was the best. It could be anyone of us, in fact he is us. A high school kid, shamelessly criticizing everything around him is not a unique personality. I wasn’t.Ĭatcher in the Rye gives a lot to ask oneself. But then, I had this feeling that the book might offer me something that I had not anticipated before and I gave it a try, hoping to not end up being wrong. It still was when I read it two weeks back. I tried it once a couple of years back, but then I threw it away as I found it boring and slow. I saw it once among the top five contemporary English novels of the century and I thought that I must give it a try sometimes. I usually take up a book when I see t hat a lot of people have read it and hence, it must be good, or when I see it on a list of books of some genre that I like. It is a slow, complex book with simple story. It is definitely not a fast read, with page turning enthusiasm that someone like Orwell, Puzo or Brown gave me. As the time moves on, I put them in one of my imaginary shelves. However, some books do leave an impact, but it is tough to categorize it immediately. Then, there are books which I wish I had not taken up reading. It may not look evident from my behavior but it opens some new compartment in my conscience. Then, there are some which I like while reading and the book adds a lot to me and the way I think. There are books which I read and think that the book was fine, a good read but it is not among my top favorites or top reads, which comprises of around 60 odd titles. The book asks serious questions, the strongest one being that are we doing Month in, month out, novels don’t come much better. But besides that, and despite your hoots of laughter at Holden’s indomitable speech, this is in essence the tragic story of a problem child, unless indeed it’s an indictment of a problem world. It reminds us of significant conclusions reached by other writers in our time. It’s a sort of lost week end it’s a boy who can’t go home again he belongs to a lost generation and lives in a world he never made. He tells the story himself tough and tender, frown and smile, bitter and sweet. He imagines himself catching all the people coming the rye and saving them from falling off a cliff. He has a little sister Phoebe, skinny but “nice skinny,” whom he longs to see again. He thinks he’s fairly sexy, yet every time a girl has said, “stop,” he has stopped, and so far they’ve all said it. He’s 16, but i t’s not the popular, romantic “sweet 16.” Here’s a boy who likes to tell whopping big lies just for the deviltry of it who likes to snarl and snap who likes to suppose, though he admits he doesn’t have the family brains, that he’s smart.īut for all the grown-up swagger on the surface, he is still 16 inside.
His parents have heard the news, but expect him on Wednesday he decides to go three days early and have himself a time in New York. Pencey was “lousy,” in his opinion his roommate Stradtlater, his neighbor Ackley who cuts his toenails all over the place, his teachers, his courses were lousy and phony, too.
Pencey has just followed the sensible example of several other prep schools and expelled him, for out of five courses he flunked four. Love this book! A must read for everyone!Ī YOUNG man possessed of a young man’s vigor and callowness and an old man’s jaundiced eye rip-snorts his way though this raucous novel and by turns delights, frightens, shocks you and leaves you close to the tears into which he himself bursts as the climax to his mad escapade.
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