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1、The Catcher in the Rye and All: Is the Age of Formative Books Over?Sanford PinskerThe best thing, though, in that museum was that everything always stayed right where it was. Nobodyd move. . Nobodyd be different. The only thing that would be different would be you. -Holden Caulfield1I first read the
2、se lines about Holdens recollections in anxiety long before I could have identified the allusion to Wordsworth, long before I fell half in love with easeful death and Keatss Ode on a Grecian Urn, long before I would scrawl stasis on the blackboard when lecturing about The Catcher in the Rye. And eve
3、n though I hadnt the foggiest idea about which subway line takes one to the Museum of Natural History, I understood, at sixteen, what Holden was talking about. In short, there was a time when books-or at least some books-used to matter. One wonders if the same excitements, the same confusions, the s
4、ame affections persist. Or have formative books gone the way of penny candy and unorganized baseball games? Perhaps our age is too restless, too sophisticated to suspend its disbelief, much less to sit still long enough to read a book. What follows, then, is an attempt, admittedly autobiographical,
5、to talk about certain connections between reading and culture-not as a reader-response theorist, not as a statistics-and-graph sociologist, but rather as one who fell in love with The Catcher in the Rye early, and who has been trying to figure out what that has meant ever since. About some underlyin
6、g things I am fairly certain: the public indicators that presumably separate one generation in its youth from another (e.g., hairstyling, popular music) are finally less important than the conditions they share. So much of adolescence, the poet Theodore Roethke once wrote, is an ill-defined dying, .
7、 A longing for another time and place, / another condition.2 Roethke may have been wrong about the death wish that I, for one, didnt have, but he was dead right about my ill-defined longings. Like Holden, I yearned for a world more attractive, and less mutable, than the one in which we live and are
8、forced to compete. As Holden puts it, with a sadness he does not fully comprehend: Thats the whole trouble. You cant ever find a place thats nice and peaceful, because there isnt any. You may think there is, but once you get there, when youre not looking, somebodyll sneak up and write Fuck you right
9、 under your nose. Try it sometime. I think, even, if I ever die, and they stick me in a cemetery, and I have a tombstone and all, itll say Holden Caulfield on it, and then what year I was born and what year I died, and then right under that itll say Fuck you. Im positive, in fact.That Holden renders
10、 a diffuse, universal condition in vivid particulars and that he gives eloquent expression to what I could not have articulated myself are both ways of saying that The Catcher in the Rye was, for me, a formative book. Others, no doubt, have candidates of their own: Mother Goose, Treasure Island, The
11、 Adventures of Sherlock Holmes-whatever books they remember as making the imaginations power immanent. But I would argue that our most important formative books are those which lead double lives as cultural statements, fastened as firmly to the here and now as they are to fictions universals. One wr
12、estles with genuinely formative books, often in ways that are as divided as they are paradoxical. Recalling his own experiences with such books, Lionel Trilling put the matter this way: The great books taught me, they never made me dream. The bad books made me dream and hurt me; I was right when 4 y
13、ears ago I said that the best rule-of-thumb for judgment of a good novel or play was-Do you want to be the hero? If you do, the work is bad. 3 One could claim, and with some justification, that The Catcher in the Rye encourages precisely the sort of dreaming and heroic identification that Trilling s
14、tands four-square against. Indeed, if moral complexity were the sole issue, one would need look no further than Trillings The Middle of the Journey (1949), an extraordinary novel published a scant two years before The Catcher in the Rye. But that said, who would be comfortable in claiming The Middle
15、 of the Journey as a formative book? To be sure, accessibility is part of the formula, but timing is equally important. A formative book catches its reader at a point when options loom larger than certainties, when an admonition to change your life can still have teeth. For those who grew up in the
16、1950s, The Catcher in the Rye was the formative book. My own case, as I struggle to reconstruct it, was one of sharply divided loyalties, of as many repulsions as attractions. A part of me-the part that was reading a book called On the Road by an author whose name no one in my literary crowd could e
17、ven pronounce-wanted, more than anything in the world, to be a beatnik. There were, clearly, no beatniks-at least none in the Kerouac mold-at a cushy joint like Holdens Pencey Prep. My dilemma, I hasten to add, was hardly unusual: formative books come in bunches and, more often than not, send contra
18、dictory messages about exactly how one goes about changing ones life. To make matters even more confusing, I kept testing what I read against the life I was actually living. When, for example, ol Phoebe keeps repeating Daddyll kill you, I knew, even at sixteen, that this was so much Oedipal bluster.
19、 On the other hand, my father really would have leveled me-that is, if I had pissed away even half the money Holden did, or lugged home a single C, much less a fistful of Fs. It was Holdens voice, rather than his circumstances, that hooked me. Long before the book appeared in its now-familiar bright
20、 red, plainly lettered, paperback cover-a dead giveaway that the novel has become a classic and can move off the shelf on its own power-I kept faith with a well-thumbed copy sporting a picture of an apple-cheeked, perplexed Holden (wearing his reversed hunting cap) gazing on the debauchery that was,
21、 presumably, New York City. Apparently, the cover designer sought to blend brows high and low, the lurid (soft porn la 1955) with the literary (Daisy Buchanan eyeballing Manhattan on the dust jacket of The Great Gatsby ). Anyway-as Holden might put it-it was the voice that got me each time I turned
22、to the first page; to get the voice going-or, if you will, talking-all you had to do was sit back and read: If you really want to hear about it, the first thing youll 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
23、 had me, and all that David Copperfield kind of crap, but I dont feel like going into it, if you want to know the truth.To call a Dickens novel crap-and in the same sentence that heaves in a lousy no less!-was to yank literature away from those who pronounced it lit-er-ah-tour. Huckleberry Finn warm
24、s up to his task by telling us that Mark Twain told the truth, mainly, but Holden really does it, without an apology or so much as a by your leave. At least that was the way I read the book when I was sixteen and itching to pull down a few vanities myself. In those days Holden was my secret sharer,
25、the part of me that knew, down deep, that whatever Life was, it was decidedly not a game: Game, my ass Holden thinks as Spencer hectors him about yet another poor academic performance. Some game. If you get on the side where all the hot-shots are, then its a game all right-Ill admit that. But if you
26、 get on the other side, where there arent any hot-shots, then whats a game about it? Nothing. No game. To be sure, what Holden said in bald print I dared only whisper sotto voce. That I could live with. It was having to share my secret sharer with others that gave me the gripes. Holden was fast beco
27、ming a doppelganger-in-residence for an entire generation, including those who pointed to the obligatory fart-in-the-chapel scene and guffawed. What right have any of you, I wanted to shout, to think of Holden as a fellow traveler? Holden would expose you as a secret slob, as a Joe Flit, as a phony.
28、 It took some years before I realized the painful truth-namely, that Holden would probably say the same or worse about me. As Holden would have it, you can count the nonphonies on the fingers of one hand: Allie, his dead brother; Phoebe, his little sister, and of course Holden himself. Everybody els
29、e stands either suspect or convicted. I took a measure of comfort from those passages in which even Holden wonders if he hasnt pulled the self-righteous trigger too quickly. Mr. Antolini, for example, might-or might not-have been a pervert. What seemed clear enough when Holden was sleeping on Antoli
30、nis couch turns complicated when he hits the Manhattan street: . What did worry me was the part about how Id woke up and found him patting me on the head and all. I mean I wondered if just maybe I was wrong about thinking he was making a flitty pass at me. I wondered if maybe he just liked to pat gu
31、ys on the head when theyre asleep. I mean how can you tell about that stuff for sure? By this time I was in college: a place where I acquired for the first time that phenomenon known as a roommate, a place where novels like The Catcher in the Rye were dissected and placed under critical microscopes.
32、 It had taken the New Criticism two decades to trickle down to the small liberal-arts college I attended, but we soon learned to sniff out a paradox or an ambiguity with the best of them. If Salinger hadnt written The Catcher in the Rye, one of my professors certainly would have. At least that was t
33、he way it seemed, so unerring were they on those quirky Salinger touches we enjoyed without quite knowing how to talk, or write, about them: the kings Jane Gallagher kept in the back row; the question Holden keeps asking about the ducks of Central Park; the whole business of being a catcher in the r
34、ye. A few years later, while browsing through back issues of Modern Fiction Studies, I heard snippets of their dazzling lectures once again, but this time the insights were attached to names I kept bumping into in graduate school: Arthur Mizener, Leslie Fiedler, Alfred Kazin, James E. Miller, Jr., F
35、rederick L. Gwynn, Joseph L. Blotner-none of whom, I hardly need add, taught at my college. No wonder my professors had wowed the pants off the undergraduates in the third row! Everything they said was safely tucked away in the MLA Bibliography-more critical articles on Salinger than on Hemingway or
36、 Fitzgerald or Faulkner. What had started out as an effort to give critical respectability (the Academys Seal of Approval) to a wildly popular book had turned into a gusher of ink. In short, the burgeoning Salinger industry did its best, but The Catcher in the Rye held up, and together, better than
37、most similarly saturated books. After such knowledge, there was-in my case at least-forgiveness. So what if the intimations that would become Holden Caulfield could be unearthed in the wanderings of Odysseus, in the legends surrounding the Grail knights, in Huck Finns adventures among con men and sc
38、alawags, in Quentin Compsons obsession with his sister? So what if my undergraduate professors took in the best that had been thought and printed about Holdens world and then modified it into their own lectures? Salingers book was more or less the same book it had always been, and Salinger was, of c
39、ourse, still Salinger. The truth is, however, that our formative books survive not only subsequent readings but also ourselves. In the case of The Catcher in the Rye, it even managed to survive what I would not then have believed possible-a time when I no longer counted myself among the Holden-lover
40、s. The well-meaning but ineffectual Mr. Antolini came to strike me as a better model-despite his bows to Wilhelm Steckel and his penchant for stump speeches about the Great Tradition: . youll find he tells a shaken Holden that youre not the first person who was ever confused and frightened and even
41、sickened by human behavior. Youre by no means alone on that score, youll be excited and stimulated to know. Many, many men have been just as troubled morally and spiritually as you are right now. Happily, some of them kept records of their troubles. Youll learn from them-if you want to. Just as some
42、day, if you have something to offer, someone will learn something from you. Its beautiful, reciprocal arrangement. And it isnt education. Its history. Its poetry.Indeed, there will probably come that dreaded day when a bathrobed, bumpy-chested avatar of Mr. Spencer will stare back at me from the mir
43、ror. And no doubt I will find him a good deal more sympathetically drawn than I did when I first encountered him reeking of Vicks Nose Drops and made to carry the symbolic role of Sickness Personified. Teaching Holdens saga in Belgium (under the auspices of a Fulbright grant), I was struck by ironie
44、s better than I could have concocted myself, ironies that surely would have made even a Salinger smile. For example, in a university where Fuck Yous are scrawled on nearly every bathroom wall (graffiti, apparently, requires plain-talking, Anglo-Saxon words; in Belgium, neither French nor Flemish wou
45、ld suffice), my students-reading The Catcher in the Rye in the expurgated Penguin edition-had trouble figuring out what the dash in -You stood for. Nonetheless, they fell in love with Holden at first sight. Our most American books-everything from Adventures of Huckleberry Finn to Invisible Man-are a
46、s portable as they are powerful. To be sure, my Belgian students had some difficulty understanding the easy arithmetic we make between the American West and the American Dream. When, for example, Holden imagines lighting out for the West, we read the passage with Huck Finn and Frederick Turner firml
47、y in mind: Finally, what I decided Id do, I decided Id go away. I decided Id never go home again and Id never go away to another school again. . What Id do, I figured, Id go down to the Holland Tunnel and bum a ride, and then Id bum another one, and another one, and another one, and in a few days Id
48、 be somewhere out West where it was very pretty and sunny and where nobodyd know me and Id get a job.My Belgian students knew about the American West by watching Dallas and Dynasty, but they also knew that riding westward-to, say, Ghent-is at best only a two-hour drive from the German border. In sho
49、rt, they found it hard to make the translation, to feel-as well as to know-just how big, how sprawling, America is. On the other hand, the things that made Holden fed up-the competitive and the materialistic, as well as, of course, the phony-struck an easy, sympathetic chord, even in those who found themselves attracted by his description of life among
