J.D. Salinger -- More, Please!

I had a thought.  (And what is a blogger to do with his thoughts if not write them out for the world, or his three readers, wherever they are, to see?)

So, first, by way of context:  We at The Wall have just recently finished Lewis Carroll's two Alice books, the second of which provided the opportunity to briefly examine an excised "episode," relatively recently discovered and published.  Over the weekend, I picked up my battered copy of Salinger's Seymour, and Introduction and took to enjoying it yet again.  Salinger, like Carroll, is dead.  Also like the Carroll, Salinger wrote something--a lot of somethings, if the news is to be believed--that he never published. 

The day Jerome David Salinger died, I had the same thought had by so many, and it was a greedy, unkind one.  Part of me, I'm ashamed to admit, was happy he was gone.  After all, now, finally, we might actually get the potential mountains of genius material with which he never deemed to grace the world.  The literary cannon would expand!

Maybe I was wrong. 

If I'm honest with myself, I (and I speak for me alone, though, again, if I'm being honest, I think I might even be qualified to speak for the literary world at large here, at least in this case) don't need "The Wasp in a Wig."  Don't get me wrong, I love the episode, but I think I love it more because I love Carroll and Alice; not so much for its intrinsic value (which, as it happens, is not null, but yet pales--nearly disappears! --alongside the glaring brilliance of the rest of Looking-Glass).  Is Carroll a better writer for having penned it?  Are we better scholars ("scholars") for having read it?  Does it benefit its source material?  At all?

Well ...  *sigh*  ... no, maybe-but-not-by-much, and no.

In my little collection of great writers and their great works, I've got Salinger on a pedestal similar to Carroll's.  Both have relatively little fiction available to the public (contrast this to someone like Steinbeck, who's got tons), and their ratios of near-/perfect to largely-flawed works are both impossibly high.  If I apply a friend's scale for rating literature (upon which I give Wonderland a 4.5/5 and Looking-Glass a 5/5), I would give a portion of Salinger's fiction the same: Catcher in the Rye -- 4.5/5; Raise High the Roof Beam, Carpenters -- 4.5/5; "A Perfect Day for Bananafish" -- 5/5; "For Esme' -- with Love and Squalor" -- 5/5.

My impression of Carroll didn't change when I read "The Wasp in a Wig," and it didn't change when I finally admitted to myself that it was far, far from the more-or-less perfection of the Alice books.  Why?  Most likely because he didn't publish it!  Would the same be the case with Salinger's alleged 15 un-published novels if they ever come to light?  Would my love of Salinger and every word he's written (well, published) remain untainted?

I don't know.  Is it worth the risk?

East of Eden LI -- chpt51: "Am I supposed to look after [my brother]?"

Reading Questions
chapter 51.1

1. What part of Adam is it that cries, "Oh, my poor darling!"?  What does this lens into the man show us?
2. What are the two comforts for Lee taken from the little stolen book?
3. I have books that I've "stolen," much like Lee stole this book from Sam'l Hamilton.  What is the advantage to the thief from the quality of the acquisition that is theft?  How might the theft be justified, as my theft, like Lee's, is indeed known to the former owner?

chapter 51.2

1. It is impossible, not to mention irrational, for an author to plug a movie, author, song, or other artist without a specific purpose--metaphoric, allusionary, or something along those lines.  My favorite author for such plugs is Salinger, Cather in the Rye being the most significant, and maybe the best, example.  Here, Cal is remembering leaving Kate's and his singing of the words, "There's a rose that grows in no man's land and 'tis wonderful to see--"  Obviously there's a significance to it.  Is it had by just this line, or do you require the entire lyric (complete words at end of post)?
2. The benefit of burning the bills, like Lee's reading of Marcus Aurelius, is two-fold.  What are the benefits?
3. "Caleb whose suffering should have its own Homer."  (Hmm.  Doesn't it?  What is the ultimate conflict and its incarnation in this epic?)
4. Of the characters, Adam, Lee, Aron, Cal, Cathy, which is the most realistic--or, at least, the closest to a human average?
5. "In the old lands they say of us that we go from barbarism to decadence without an intervening culture."  Is there a practical difference between the two?

THE ROSE OF NO MAN'S LAND

(Jack Caddigan / James A. Brennan)

William Thomas - 1916

Henry Burr - 1918

Charles Hart - 1919

Hugh Donovan (a.k.a. Charles Harrison) - 1919

I've seen some beautiful flowers

Grow in life's garden fair

I've spent some wonderful hours

Lost in their fragrance rare

But I have found another

Wondrous beyond compare....

There's a rose that grows in no-man's land

And it's wonderful to see

Though its sprayed with tears, it will live for years

In my garden of memory

It's the one red rose the soldier knows

It's the work of the Master's hand

'Neath the War's great curse stands a Red Cross nurse

She's the rose of no-man's land

Out in the heavenly splendour

Down to the trail of woe

God in his mercy has sent her

Fearing the World below

We call her Rose of Heaven

We've longed to love her so....

There's a rose that grows in no-man's land

And it's wonderful to see

Though its sprayed with tears, it will live for years

In my garden of memory

It's the one red rose the soldier knows

It's the work of the Master's hand

'Neath the War's great curse stands a Red Cross nurse

She's the rose of no-man's land 

East of Eden XXXIV -- chpt 33: THE GREAT ACORN CONTEST, scheduled perhaps on a day particularly perfect, as it happens, for bananafish

Yes.  Pigs do eat acorns, though I don't know what that does to the flavor of their bacon.


Reading Questions
Chapter 33.1

1. Tom and Dessie are living quietly on the ranch, each pretending that he/she is not miserable, simply for the sake of the other's conscience.  Neither ever speaks of self, and neither knows anything of the other.  What a sad way to live!  Can you be happy pretending there are no problems?  Finally it comes to head--however puny (or maybe it's gigantic, but instead of messily popping it with fingernails, they reverently sterilize a needle to lance it, but neither ever admits it was even ever there in the first place (gross analogy--sorry)) --and the each admit knowledge of the other's misery.  So what do they do?  They decide to make plans to go to Europe.  There's a trend in this book, however, that anyone wanting to travel abroad, first, never makes the trip, however well-intentioned, and second, never actually wants to go in the first place.  SO WHY PLAN OR TALK ABOUT A TRIP TO EUROPE?  What does this bespeak of the characters?  What does this bespeak of the author?
2. As for the acorn hunt, isn't it funny how we can let ourselves be tricked into the most menial labor, if we're just offered prizes.  And maybe life isn't a rat race; maybe life is an acorn hunt.  But are we the children or the pigs?  Both?

Chapter 33.2

1. Who commits the fatal mistake of this section?  Can Tom be blamed?

Chapter 33.3

1. (Interesting how Tom engenders poetry from his author.)  We have the difficult gelding which Tom bought on the cheap.  But Tom is not the one trying to break the horse.  Tom is the horse, and his rider is life.  Samuel himself talked about how Tom would dig into and through things trying violently to get at their meanings and whys and wherefores.  Tom will not let life break him, even if he knows it's exactly what he needs.  It's a sacrifice he won't make, though he wouldn't be able to say what might be sacrificed.  He is so different from Will and Liza.
2. There is also, of course, added significance taking this approach into a reading of the letter he writes next to his brother, Will, in which he claims to have been thrown and kicked in the head by this very horse.
3. The chapter ends in a nephew's epitaph to his worthy uncle, "He was a gallant gentleman."

East of Eden was published in September of 1952.  Salinger's "A Perfect Day for Bananafish" first appeared in the The New Yorker in the January 31, 1948 issue.  It is quite likely that these two stories were even in process of their composition at the same moment.  I know this is an overly idealistic fantasy, but I can't ignore a heavy cross-textual comparison between these two pieces, in the case of the former, regarding the moment of Tom's suicide, and whatever else about his character that led, I might say even inexorably, to his final moment. 

Salinger and Steinbeck, except that their names each start with S, have practically nothing in common (that said, for better or worse, without due dilignece paid to biographies--sue me), and there's very little chance that one author influenced the other more than superficially, though I can't imagine they were unaware of each other.

If you haven't recently read "A Perfect Day for Bananafish," do so.  There are numerous copies of it online that are easier to find, though in the case of Salinger, more so than any other author (of just words) I can think of, read him from the ink and page if you can manage it.  When you're done, respond to the following prompts, at least to yourself, though your thoughts and opinions would be much welcomed in the comments' space below:

1. Consider Seymour's tattoos and his paranoia of people staring at them, especially those on his feet.  Consider his familial relationships (it wouldn't hurt if you reread "Raise High the Roof Beam, Carpenters" as well, though it's quite a bit longer).  All the words we use--or Samuel used--to describe Tom might be used to describe Seymour Glass, and vice versa.  Using one, describe the other.  What were Tom's bananafish?  Who was his Sybil?  Who was his Muriel?
2. While so similar, they did not kill themselves for parallel reasons.  What was the difference?

Soliciting Your Votes

Hey, Everyone. 
Take a second and
VOTE for your favorite
East of Eden characters.
 

(The poll is there on the right, up at the top;
vote for as many characters as you want.)

You haven't met all of the characters over there yet.  The poll's open until the middle of November, so feel free to revise your vote as you keep working through the book.  I don't think we'll actually get to Abra before the poll closes.  If you know her from a previous reading and like enough, great; if not, no worries.)

Book Review #2: MOCKINGJAY

Have you ever heard someone say that they just finished reading a book--a book you've also read and happened to have enjoyed--and complained about what a disappointment it was, and you wonder, "Was he even reading the same book?"  Well, keep that in mind.  I'm coming back to it.

I hopped on the Hunger Games bandwagon over the summer, when Wal-Mart finally picked up the first book, which I could buy on the cheap.  Until then, my wife and I had our names on the waiting list at the local library.  (We're still not halfway through that list!)  We each read the first.  We each loved it.  It was exciting and almost new to read a writer who, first, didn't pull any punches (and if you haven't read these, really, she "keeps it real") and, two, kept it direct and simple.  This is a big deal for a someone like me who admittedly and happily loves prolixity--if it's done well, at least.  As it turns out (and such is more than certainly the case with McCarthy's The Road, by the way) that if not terse, then laconic, is just as good.  This is especially the case here, when it would be entirely out of character for the protagonist, Katniss Everdeen, to wax poetic. 

The second book made it to the mega-store as well, and we read it with similar abandon.  It too was great and fun and shocking and does what any good second-in-a-trilogy should do: it propels on from the first, and prepares with excellent cliffhanger for the third; and it can almost stand alone.

The third book, Mockingjay, came along.  We'd awaited it eagerly.  But we'd also just lost our job.  We couldn't get it.  And we couldn't get it.  Wal-Mart got it, and still we couldn't get it.  (Twice, I almost forewent milk and gas to get it, but I didn't.)  My sister-in-law got it.  Borrowed it from a friend.  It's on second-hand loan to us, and I finished it last night.

As it's been quite some time since it's come out (well, a couple months, I guess), I've heard a lot of reactions to the close of the story.  Mostly I've just heard, "What a disappointment!"  As I plugged along the first half of the book, I began to agree!  It was a little slow; not really Collins' style.  But that's it!  There was a lot of exposition that needed to happen--yes, NEEDED.  I had faith, though, in Collins, and stuck with it.  (I would have anyway; I couldn't wait to find out what the end was actually going to be!  How would the rebels win; whom would Katniss choose; would one of the selection even return to sanity; and what about the long-distant duel of the psycho presidents?)  So I finished, and I wondered, "What book did all those other people read, because it couldn't have been this one!  That ending was AMAZING!"

An inspiration, in fact, such that again I jealously thought, "Crap, I want to create something beautiful and brilliant!"  (Maybe someday.)

I think the problem people have with reading something like this is their inability to separate what they want to happen with what should, or simply DOES, happen.  It's not about what you want!  I'm guessing that most of them are sad/mad that quite a few favorite characters simply don't make it.  But isn't that how war is?  I'm sorry, but put a group of people on the front line of a war and chances are that most of them, if not all, are going to kick the bucket.  Yet there's courage and heroism and tragedy and revenge and anger and relief and, in the end, justice and recovery.  The good guys win.  (That's not really a spoiler, because that's not really what it's about.)  But does Katniss win?  She's the protagonist.  This is her story.  It's not her sister's, or old friend's, or the districts', or the other recruits'; it's hers.  Period.  And how beautifully and perfectly--and, if this story were real, how likely--Collins draws it all together.

While I'm not comparing Collins in any other way to this particular book, in one aspect in particular she draws direct comparison to one of my favorites, Catcher in the Rye.  Salinger runs the entire book through with the string of a song.  That song is a metaphor for everything that happens in the story, and particularly to the central conflict of the protagonist.  So it happens here in Mockingjay.  Collins pens really a beautiful "song," which is much more poem than anything else, and does for her story what "Catcher in the Rye" (the song) does for Salinger's.  If for no other reason, read the book for "The Hanging Tree" and what it does for the book and its characters.

In the end, everyone, ignore the freaking nay-sayers.  Read this book.  It's wonderful, and will have (once I can buy my own copy, at least) a permanent spot on my book shelf, somewhere between Chabon and Dickens.