Hello

AntiUtopia@aol.com
Fri, 14 Nov 1997 23:05:09 -0500 (EST)

My name is Jim Rovira.  You killed my father.  Prepare to die. 

Sorry, ok, seriously...

(in case you were wondering, the opening line qualifies as One of the Most
Memorable Lines from the movie, The Princess Bride)

I just subscribed to Bananafish, and wanted to introduce myself.  I'm 33,
married, four kids, read Everything, including Salinger.  I graduated with a
BA in English from Rollins College a year from last May, and plan on going to
grad school in English.  I'm an electrician, do some freelance writing,
maintain a couple of websites, and am an English and Speech instructor for
Rollins College's Upward Bound program.  I also volunteer at the Writing
Center there.  I'm subscribed to ChristLit, a creative writing listserve,
peertalk (Writing Center listserve at Rollins College), and some others...  

I habitually do too much.

Hey, about the No Quoting rule...does that even apply to brief quotations
from texts to illustrate points?  Just curious.  

Here's my background in Salinger. Most of it has been recent...

My first introduction to Salinger was NOT via the American adolescent
literary
Rite of Passage, namely, reading _Catcher in the Rye_ in High School. 
Thank God.  Instead, I was 22 and an older female friend of mine (30ish)
let me borrow her copy of _Franny and Zooey_.  I liked it, was intrigued a
bit by the weirdness of the Glass family, but hadn't a clue why she let me
borrow that book.  That was eleven years ago, and I hadn't read Salinger
again until about 4 weeks
ago.

Now, being one who doesn't like missing adolescent rites of passage (I'm
tempted to crack a joke about my first blow job, but I'm above that), I
finally bought my own copy of _Catcher in the Rye_ and read the freaking
thing in about two days.  I couldn't put it down.  I'd read bits and
pieces before--namely, the opening page for my "Art of the Personal Essay"
class at college.  I didn't think I could stomach a novel so solipsistic, so
I was put off. 
Well, he hooked me this time, albeit slowly.  I was halfway thru the
book before I officially Couldn't Put It Down.  So after finishing CitR
I went back and reread _Franny and Zooey_, and if I felt I could identify
with Holden in CitR, boy could I identify with the members of the Glass
family in this book, namely the title characters.  Of course, I'm not as
talented and good looking as they, nor as intelligent, but Boy oh boy.
Now I know why that friend of mine let me borrow the book. I don't know
if I want to kiss her or tell her to screw off.  Probably both.  I've now
finished reading _Seymour, An Introduction_ ,  _Raise High the Roof
Beam, Carpenter_, and _Nine Stories_, and was not disappointed one bit.  

Now that I've done some reading, I've come to a few tentative
conclusions...

Salinger's work is an expression of a deep reverence, and love for,
humanity in all...despite all...its banality.  His disturbed characters are
disturbed
only because they possess three characteristics: they are intelligent,
perceptive, and idealistic.  And the worst thing about their ideals is
that they are legitimate, they truly cannot be compromised, because they
have been developed by one who is, indeed, intelligent and perceptive... 

If you have Two out of three of these characteristics you can still be
happy, but possess all three and you're not only miserable, but you make
others miserable as well.  For example, if you're intelligent, idealistic,
and oblivious...well, you may be ok.  Anyway, Salinger's works seem to be an
outworking of the tension between the violation of ideals in perceived
subjects and the idealistic
notion of those subjects' continued worth, their inherent holiness,
their eternal value.  

Franny's "breakdown" at the end of FaZ was due to
an inability to reconcile her ideals for herself and others with the
fact that these ideals were daily violated on a fundamental basis.  Her
revulsion at the pettiness and self-centeredness of others caused her to
abandon her true calling to be an actress, for at precisely that point
she saw in herself most clearly what she so despised in others.  The net
result of this situation was misery for her.  Her brother's final words
to her helped her resolve this tension, and experience peace.

Now, I posted the above to Peertalk, and a guy responded asking questions
about Seymour's suicide...here's what I wrote to that:

Angus, you mentioned in an earlier post...

> how about when 'ole seymour blows (speaking of blows) his brains out in 
> the hotel room.  And the sweet little girl...See-more see-more glass.

Yeah, how about it?  I've been trying to make some sense of Seymour's
suicide.  The reviewer quoted below goes in some productive directions,
but I don't think has the final word, of course, any more than the rest of
us...

>  Seymour, of course, was the oldest of the Glass children, who in the 1948
> short story "A Perfect Day for Bananafish" (collected in "Nine Stories")
put
> a gun to his head and blew his brains out. In that story, Seymour appeared
to
> be a sweet if somewhat disturbed young man, ill equipped to deal with the
> banal, grown-up world represented by his frivolous wife. 
> 
>   In subsequent stories, we learned, largely through the reminiscences of
his
> brother Buddy -- the family historian and Salinger's alter ego, who
actually
> purports to have written "Bananafish" and "Raise High the Roof Beam,
> Carpenters" (1955) -- that Seymour was regarded as the family saint and
> resident mystic. 
> 

My reading experience was opposite the reviewer's--I learned of Seymour
being the saint of the family before I read "Bananafish" and learned the
details surrounding his suicide.  I think the reviewer is correct in
saying that Seymour was "ill-equipped" to deal with the banal world
represented by his new wife.  He spent most of his honeymoon, according
to the story, playing the piano in the bar, entertaining children, among
others.  We meet him on the beach, meeting a small child then going
swimming with her in the ocean--joking about bananafish.  

This is odd behaviour for a honeymoon, to say the least.  I mean, it'd
be cool if these actions were the exception rather than the rule...if he
spent most of his time with his new wife, and entertained children when
he had the opportunity.  I think he spent time with kids and avoided his
wife because she was threatening to him, and the kids were safe.  

But kill himself?  This is still something of a mystery to me.  It
happened when he finally faced his wife in their hotel room where she
was, mercifully, asleep.  His mother in law's psychobabble, annoying
thru the story, is lent credence by Seymour's suicide.  

So, where do we go with this?  

The reviewer's description of Seymour at age 7 in "Hapworth" is very,
very reminiscent of the child in "Teddy."  Very advanced, reads oodles
of books, can predict the future...I'm almost tempted to think the child
in Hapworth is, actually, Seymour reincarnated, due to this line from
"Teddy"...

"I met a lady, and I sort of stopped meditating...I mean it's very hard
to meditate and live a spiritual life in America.  People think you're a
freak if you try to."

Of course, his mother in law thought he was a freak...of course Seymour,
as far as we can tell, began to go a bit whacky when he met the lady he
eventually married.  

I think adult American life so compromised his core values he could not
go on living, and I think his instability during his honeymoon was a
reflection of that.  I think his attraction to children reflected a
longing for innocence and belief, and honesty, even rude honesty.  I
remember in another story Seymour derived immense pleasure from his younger
sister Franny's comments, especially when so innocently rude, "I love
your teeth, they're so yellow..."  The elevator scene in "Bananafish"
highlights adult insincerity.  The lady in the elevator probably really
was looking at his feet.  

For my part, this isn't a kind of spirituality I could follow.  I love
Seymour in his strengths--his compassion and his love for humanity is
appealing, as well as his immense intelligence.  But a spirituality that
can only thrive in absolute, physical detachment from human society is
too unreal, and belies the love of humanity it professes.

I guess I'm no ascetic :)  

Jim



Thanks for letting me get my thoughts out.

Jim