June 19th


Subject: June 19th
From: citycabn (citycabn@gateway.net)
Date: Mon May 08 2000 - 19:08:41 GMT


Matt recently mentioned Bloomsday (June 16th). I don't know why, but my
mind skipped to June 19th. And the realization that on June 19th, 2000, it
will be exactly _thirty-five_ years since J.D. Salinger has published a new
work of fiction. Quite a bit of time since, yes, of course, that other
date: _Hapworth 16, 1924_.

will wrote a couple of days ago of the possibility of JDS "heading towards
new regions of consciousness in his unpublished, vault stored manuscripts".
I wonder what other fishes think those manuscripts might be like/wish them
to be.

And just to repeat myself, an earlier post from January, which, in part,
touches on some of the above.

--Bruce

Subject: "Gripping Reading" (was RE: Suicide Notes)
From: citycabn (citycabn@gateway.net)
Date: Fri Jan 07 2000 - 13:54:02 EST

In a message dated 1/4/00 10:00:21 PM Eastern Standard Time,
Tim O'Connor, in part, wrote:

> >> One could argue that The Old Man on the Mountain,
>>> Salinger, might leave an interesting note as to why he has
>>> effectively committed professional suicide in terms of new work. An
>>> explanation from his pen as to why he really dropped out would make
>>> gripping reading.

 _What_ will happen after the fact? Will there be a note along the
thematic lines of Tim's post, which the NY Times runs in full, with the
current Mrs. JDS being quoted as saying there will be no more future
publications? Or will all of those rumored manuscripts slowly be processed
over decades into books (sort of like the Hemingway situation)? (Maybe even
one of them might be that WWII novel JDS said he would keep an eye out for,
back in '45?) Or will the dam burst and the Glass Family Jigsaw Saga
(even including Seymour's 184 poems) arrive in stores outweighing a trilogy
of Stephen King novels atop Proust's novelette? Or will there just be a
moldy NY Times obit. and the proverbial "no comment from the family"? And
silence.

At this point in time, at this almost perfect point in time, with Mr.
Salinger alive and hopefully well on some hilltop in Cornish, NH, USA,
Salingerian silence seems to press against and balance Salingerian verbiage.
A strange yin/yang situation where the reader skates on that "S" shape. I
confess: For years I wanted more JDS stories. Now I'm not too sure. The
four books plus the underpublished stories plus the whiff of the fabled
never-published stories _almost_ seem enough.

What I can't stand to contemplate is more Maynard-like memoirs and the
daughter's is next and New Yorker writers weighing in on lunches with Jerry
(even though I'm ravenous to know _what_ he ate), and, God forbid, rights
being sold to Hollywood, with Liz Smith tossing a salad of names of vying
actors and actresses (all Salinger lovers from diapers); and let's not
forget Broadway and the freshly printed full page color ads for the new
Catcher musical about to open.

As a reader, Salinger was my first love. And the only writer I'm obsessive
about that still is among the living. Just knowing that he's _there_,
whether he's writing or not, whether he's planning a real new millennium
(01/01/2001) surprise with David Remnick (all of that turn-of-the-new-year
New Yorker double-issue of fiction to be devoted to the work of ...) or not,
is somehow, well, just comforting. (Sort of like Buddy looking up Seymour's
name in the telephone book.)

As you all can see, I really can't say anything clear on this subject, other
than, yes, it "would make gripping reading".

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