unfortunately, more
Scottie Bowman (rbowman@indigo.ie)
Mon, 16 Aug 1999 09:04:35 +0100
'... It's the act of observation itself that we identify
with, not necessarily what is being observed ...'
I know this is one of Camille's watchwords but I'm
not sure I agree with it. (I MAY but I'm not sure.)
If Holden had been emerging from an 18th Century
coffee house & heard one of Master Mozart's latest
numbers being played on an upstairs harpsichord,
it would be quite wrong to think one had shared
the experience by putting Bob Dylan into the frame
instead. Recognising a familiar tune is not the point.
We're being invited to recreate the world of 1948
(or thereabouts) New York & insofar as we've seen
movies of the period, know the tunes of the time,
read copies of old magazines, talked to people who
were around then & so on, we shall be able to do
the work - however inadequately - that Salinger
is entitled to expect of us.
Not to recognise Smoke gets in your Eyes is a (very small)
gap in your sharing of Holden's experience & no amount
of telling yourself: 'Well it's more or less the same as
the way I felt when I heard REM' will do the trick.
It seems to me that this is where the theory that
The Reader's Version Is More Or Less As Good As Any
will finally bring you. Why should a writer go to such
pains to give you the one or two telling details that
will make his world for you? Why bother at all?
Why not just put dots for the reader to fill in wherever
he thinks fit?
Smoke Gets In Your Eyes has a particular poignancy
& a peculiar resonance filled with all the martinis in all
the nightclubs where it was sung by all the torch singers
of the day - & THAT was the melody that was uncoiling
itself inside Holden's head at that particular moment.
Salinger did not want me to think it was the same as
recognising Mary o' Argyle as sung by my mum or you
remembering Perfect Circle whammed out by REM.
Scottie B.