The Catcher in the Rye. About time! After a three day break (caused by a bout of scurvy for some of the Professional Moron staff, and yet another alien abduction for editor Mr. Wapojif) we’re back with our latest book.
Who has time to read these days, anyway? Cripes, if you’re not busy working a 17-hour shift in a dungeon somewhere (as in, this is what the Professional Moron office is – a dungeon under Manchester), you’re being abducted by aliens and whisked across the Galaxy to meet Emperor **L**&.
This translates into human as “A Being Of Inconceivable Terror”, although she was actually a cute fluffy creature much like a squirrel. Pleasant and docile, we chatted about tomato soup before I was sent hurtling back 3 billion light years to Earth.
The Catcher in the Rye
Blasting across space is pretty knackering, but largely boring. There’s nothing really going on out there. There’s just lots of space.
Occasionally you fly by some deranged planet which is literally broiling in its self-effacing fury, and you wonder what type of Universe we live in. Thusly we arrive at The Catcher In The Rye, which is one of the most glorious titles for a novel ever (we think).
The story follows Holden Caulfield, who rapidly became a poster boy for teenage rebellion due to his anti-establishment attitude. He’s an aloof git; temperamental, pretentious, annoying, but relatively engaging. As he blunders about the place with a sense of angst, he gradually gains some maturity and heads steadily towards a more optimistic future.
In other words, the little heathen begins to grow up a bit. In this sense it’s a coming of age story, marking the awkward moment many teens have when they think they’re the centre of everything.
Released in 1951 by J.D. Salinger, the book has taken on a notorious reputation. John Lennon’s killer calmly sat down and began reading the book as he waited to be arrested, back in December 1980.
The Catcher In The Rye doesn’t proffer any incitement to violence, but its themes of alienation and isolation clearly resonated with David Chapman’s warped state of mind. The idiot.
On a final note, for some reason this novella is many women’s favourite books ever. Mr. Wapojif has noted this preference online; it’s either this or To Kill A Mockingbird (and there’s a sequel on the way from Harper Lee – it’s called To Kill A Mockingbird 2 and is a tale of retribution about a zombie Mockingbird attacking a community).
There’s something to look forward to, but in the meantime get this one read. It’s an iconic moment in 20th Century literature.