I share something of David's uneasiness with translations: at least when the direction of the translation is *from* - as against *into* -English. Like him, I can hardly imagine how the tone of a `stylish' writer can ever be conveyed into another tongue. French is the one language other than my own that I can read with moderate ease. And I've had much pleasure not only from translations of great stylists like Flaubert or Camus but also, in schooldays, the straight stuff from Daudet, Maupassant & so on. But, in honesty, I haven't the faintest idea how these writers really `feel' to a native speaker. When it comes to Salinger, although I've no idea of his standing in France, I can imagine the windy, Zen posturings would go down a treat in the Deux Magots where any philosophical fad can depend on at least a transient welcome. But I doubt Holden's voice is really audible in the same setting. Indeed, despite my affection for him, I'm sure I miss many of his nuances too. So much depends on a shared culture as well as a shared language. When I see how subtly `wrong' Americans or English, for example, get the Dublin of James Joyce or Brendan Behan, I despair of us ever really understanding each other. Scottie B.