Remembering JD Salinger

In all but “medically pronounced” fact, “J.D. Salinger” has been dead since 1980, when he gave his last interview to The Boston Sunday Globe. Having published nothing since 1965, he told his examiner – I’m not mincing any words here; everyone must have felt Salinger had explaining to do – that, “I love to write, and I assure you I write regularly. But I write for myself and I want to be left absolutely alone to do it.”

By nature, recluses are not liable to generate much news, but it should not be forgotten that Salinger was once a highly polarizing and, to many, an inspiring figure in American popular culture. For years, The Catcher in the Rye was simultaneously one of the most censored and most frequently taught novels in high schools across the country. Literary purists and others who have consigned their youth to oblivion have battered Salinger’s writing over the years (often deservedly), but still Holden Caulfield is a household name and a powerful cultural symbol – not so much of rebellion, which escapes the trickier question of our authenticity, but of adolescent awakening and visceral modern contempt.

The news of Salinger’s death brought to mind a moment in late June of 2009, when I was at an outdoor concert in Rochester, N.Y, on a hot afternoon. City natives Giant Panda Guerilla Dub Squad, a great reggae act, were up on stage, and I really could not have been in a better state of mind. Then a wave of whisperings revealed that Michael Jackson had just died, and the band made an announcement. Everyone was blown away, but the music played on. It was the perfect place to be for a musician’s death.

Perfect, unlike the living room couch. For the next three months, Larry King featured nothing but MJ. It was so relentless, in fact, that up until the tragic shooting at Fort Hood – and apart from talk of the recession – Michael Jackson’s death was actually looking like the story of 2009. I remember thinking at the time, even though I liked Michael Jackson’s music, that this nation was overall too preoccupied with his death.

It’s worth considering why J.D. Salinger – Jerome David – wanted to be left alone. Say what you will, but the man was a true anti-celebrity in a culture that was just beginning to distract itself with such surrogates for self-fulfillment. The sheer impact of his intellectual contribution underscores the power that writing has to cut through the medium of mass culture, which has no thoughts of its own, and into individual hearts and minds. This is ultimately why I have never been bothered by Salinger’s withdrawal from public view, because in following his own heart he reiterated that becoming an icon is not an inherently virtuous achievement. Sometimes you have to kill what others make of you.

Thanks to the the Johns Hopkins Newsletter for the info.