Jul 16 2001
Books
Today is the 50th birthday of The Catcher in the Rye. This is one of the few books which was not destroyed for me forever by studying it in school. Having to compare and contrast and pick a story to pieces, reading all kinds of symbolism into it which probably never even entered the author’s mind is enough to ruin a book for anyone. But there’s something about Holden Caulfield that overcomes high school study and the fact that his creator is one of the weirdest guys on the planet. Amazon is selling it for today only at its original price of $3, so if you haven’t read it or feel like renewing your acquaintance, now’s the time.
Thanks in part to our trip to Barnes & Noble on Saturday, I have a pile of books on my bedside table, just waiting for me. This has to be one of the more luxurious feelings in life. There’s an anthology of Louisa May Alcott’s diaries, letters, and early short stories (LM and I share a weakness for “being overly fond of the company of cats”); Independence Day, the Pulitzer-Prize winning sequel to my favorite Richard Ford book, The Sportswriter, despite the fact that I loathe all sports and live a completely sports-free life; Ilene Beckerman’s charming Love, Loss and What I Wore, which she both wrote and illustrated; and Truman Capote’s classic Breakfast at Tiffany’s — I think Capote was a genius and love his books. Someone once said, “Anyone who says they love Truman Capote hasn’t actually met him”. I guess geniuses are hard to live with.
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