Re-read after ~22 years. First time through I remember finishing it on the NYC subway and loving it, just completely latched on and charmed and then of course loving the resolution. Acquired for $1 a sixth edition hardback from the early 1960s (the two parts first appeared in the New Yorker in '55 and '57 and the book was published in '61) in really good condition at the local library's biannual booksale and then re-read it on a whim, having remembered it fondly. Loved right away being back uptown with educated exceptional kids on the verge of (or one step beyond) a nervous breakdown. So much talk and smoke. I pretty much agree with the self-criticisms in the first three introductory pages of Zooey, when Buddy Glass the narrator directly addresses the reader about these prose home movies, saying there's too much nose-blowing and mysticism and they're unfair to Bessie the mom. I found myself charmed but impatient with the descriptions of gestures and movements and postures and cigarette and cigar smoking consistently interrupting the dialogue, as though the narrator, or the author really, wanted to monologue but knew for the sake of dramatization that these interstitial descriptions needed to be interstitched. Many of these are fine and character-revealing and world-building or even almost funny and all underpin a sense that the story is real, that the Glasses are a real family, that the newspaper spread out on the floor to catch stray paint dripping from the painters in the apartment really does show Stan Musial holding up a brook trout of exactly 14 inches, that these are really home movies rendered in prose. Feels real throughout but at the same time fictional -- I was surprised when I checked Salinger's Wikipedia page and saw that he only had one sibling, an older sister. But I think also that the impatience I felt through the long opening bathtub scene with Zooey and Bessie, and then the long dialogue with Zooey and Franny in the over-bright room with Franny sobbing on the couch with Bloomberg the cat, my impatience was engineered by the author to create pressure so when they have their breakthroughs, when they get to monologue for a goddamn second without interruption the reader feels a similar breaking through, a release, similar to the relief when the first bathtub scene ends and we're out of that goddamn tight enclosure for once. And so at the end when Zooey calls Franny pretending to be Buddy and Franny goes off on how Zooey's the one who's losing it, not Franny, and then Zooey ends the call with the whole thing about shining your shoes for Seymour's fat lady, and how Seymour had told something similar to Franny, and they both imagined a similar woman listening to the radio afflicted with cancer, and Franny particularly finally understands what Zooey's been saying about Christ consciousness, something about the clarity of the prose, the perfection of the image of Seymour's fat lady, and the uninterrupted connection between brother and sister and their influential yet dead older brother (see "A Perfect Day for Bananafish"), it really does feel cathartic for everyone involved, the story's mysteries (re)solved, more like a multilevel family love story than a mystical story, per the introduction to Zooey. The end is so good, so flat-out great, I decided to re-rate the book five stars, really mostly for that conclusion and its self-contained particular world, the commitment to it, the glare and the smoke and the paint fumes in the room, plus the airing and handling on its ideas, the mysticism that will become widespread with the beats and the Beatles later in the decade. Not sure how many readers these days would feel like all the pages building pressure are worth the release, and I often sort of vacillated on re-read, having forgotten most of Zooey, other than that there was something glorious at the end I remembered reading circa 2002 on the subway heading uptown, something I knew everything was headed for, despite the many sidings and stops along the way.

No one-trick pony, that Salinger; instead, a many-illusion stallion. Watch him go, juggling these twin narratives that, while short and punchy ("skimpy-looking book," he calls it in the dedication), prove no less spectacular in showing the awesome depth of characters’ entire inner universes, parceling out neurotic comedy and warm/cold honesty in increasing measure. Franny and Zooey follows the two titular siblings, two “freak” peas in the pond, precocity out the wazoo, who’ve grown up in a kind of glass house alongside other Glass siblings as part of a radio group act, helicopter-parented by Mrs. Glass, and thus since been out of existential sorts. As a result, i.e., of this super-angst, they’re super-argumentative, which Salinger makes downright transfixing by the unique voices, as well as highly specific actions, with which he characterises them, imbues them with frantic life. In the bathroom mirror, Zooey “share[s] his amusement” with his reflection at something his mom said. Franny cannot tear her eyes away from the frogs’ legs her boyfriend’s wolfing down. Mrs. Glass expresses herself through a dictionary’s worth of sighs whose meaning depends on pitch, volume, immediate context. And they all speak in italics for syllabic emphasis like “charitable” and “manuscipt” that I can see being irritating for some, yet much the opposite for me: hilarious. This, too, is to say nothing of the frequently if weirdly spellbinding wordsmithing Salinger does willy-nilly and amazingly like Franny’s “self-imposed sentence of unadulterated good-listenership” and Mrs. Glass’ “fan-club appreciation” for Zooey, the latter mirroring my own overwhelming same for Salinger. Yet he grounds everything, all this prestidigitation, in genuine consideration of the questions of literature, celebrity, and spirituality, and how they complicate for both sister and brother those larger ones of family and especially identity, answered with surprising care. Decidedly more first- than tenth-rate.

The Beat Generation knows nothing about Eastern philosophy. Meanwhile this generation of egoistic phonies like to pretend they do. The Glass family is a full of such phonies. It's a family fucked up by its pseudo-intellectualism, its neurotic ego inflation, its obsession with mystic spirituality, its pursuit and simultaneous denunciation of celebrity status, and ultimately by its recognition of these qualities it has. I don't like the Glass children, but still Franny and Zooey are relatable characters. Who aren't a bit phony after all? The ending of the book is like a bowl of chicken soup: the proclamation that everyone deserves compassion and love. It's like Salinger gives every of us a hug. But in reality, who deserves anything?

Freni i Zui je buntovna priča o odrastanju i sazrijevanju natprosječno inteligentne djece porodice Glas, odnosno, o krajnje neobičnoj podršci koju brat pruža sestri nakon što doživi nervni slom. Preispitujući svoje stavove o ljubavi, porodici i religiji, njih dvoje prolaze kroz burnu „terapiju“, dijalogom i dovodeći se na same ivice razuma.
Selindžer je iznad popularnih dijela, vanvremenski i u srž pogađa probleme porodičnog života, te kako se prava funkcionalnost naizgled disfunkcionalne porodice ogleda upravo u ovoj situaciji: kako vratiti na noge nekoga ko je u Freninoj situaciji. Freni u Zui su izlolovani u svoj svijet i na sve načine pokušavaju da se distanciraju od svijeta i od lažnih vrijednosti, ega i sebičluka, nepravde i licemjerja. Ali, kada je u pitanju nešto ovako bitno, kao sestrin nervni slom, Zui ostavlja svoje obaveze i na brutalan način budi u njoj emocije, suočavajući je sa njenim zabludama i traži način da probudi u njoj strast za onim u čemu je najbolja.
Ovo je knjiga porodične svakodnevnice, prošlosti, gubitaka i praznina koje su ostale.

„Ako već krećeš u rat protiv Sistema, onda pucaj kao pristojna, inteligentna devojka – zato što je neprijatelj tu, a ne zato što ti se ne sviđa njegova frizura ili idiotska kravata.“

"Briga jednog umjetnika je da cilja na neku vrstu savršenstva, i to po sopstvenim mjerilima, a ne tuđim."

"Prije svega, sasvim skreneš s puta kada počneš da se zanosiš stvarima i svijetom umjesto samim sobom."

a character driven story by a man and it’s well done hold on i’m picking my jaw off the floor (though with all fairness i already loved his work i previously read)
dialogues engaging and fun and the dynamics layered and peculiar (sometimes definitely overdone and intense but still lovely)

the way you take in this entire book is very subjective; were the struggles that relatable? no, but were they explored interestingly through his characters? yes
were they also annoying? absolutely but Franny’s young adult angst-mental-breakdown combo is a concept that i’ll probably always love in media and unfortunately Zooey is my type

everything about the Franny part was fabricated in the right that played on the from the train to the restaurant no negative notes whatsoever she and lane were a delight individually and together, the conversation was witty and pretentious in the right way and the mystery ambience? i was having a blast till the very last written word

some of Zooey’s remarks with his mother were annoying but honestly the only real felt flaw was the small parts where the messiness felt overdone and rubbish. families and their stories aren’t really my thing but surprisingly when you like the characters you could be invested. loving the writing style definitely helped J.D salinger the only male author ever i knew he would not disappoint me

Did you know that Zooey Glass was voted People magazine’s Sexiest Man Alive in 1961?

What? No, I’m kidding. Why would you have ever believed that? Did you think the magazine even existed back in ’61? Geez.

But if it did, fictional or not, Zooey could almost certainly have been a contender. And back then he would have been eligible, too. Of course, you wouldn’t get the Zooey Glass looks without a little of the Zooey Glass attitude, and are you sure you’d want to have dealt with that? It was a little...I don’t know...caustic? At least three levels above endearing sarcasm (and those are three levels in the wrong direction, by the way), Zooey could chew you up and spit you out without even blinking an eye. But yeah, I get it. He’s hot.

Franny’s not so bad looking herself, but she—like her delightful brother—may not have made the best dinner date companion. Franny, who seems to me an older, wiser, and less retarded version of Holden Caulfield (and I say this affectionately because I love Holden in all his beautiful retardedness), expresses a whole slew of disgust for the world around her, and for the state of the arts and of academia in particular. In fact, they both do (Franny and Zooey), to an extent that is both sad and comical at the same time.

So what is up with the Glass kids? Why are they so damaged? Zooey attributes their psychological issues (his and Franny’s) to their older brothers Seymour and Buddy, one of whom is dead, and the other being a stand-in for Salinger himself (or so I’ve read), as they practically forced their intellect onto their younger siblings at an impressionable age, critically injuring their ability to be happy later, and isolating them from a society that can’t comprehend their lofty criticisms of...well, nearly everything. I mean, don’t you think Franny and Zooey would have preferred to be as carefree as other members of society seem to be? Wouldn’t they wish to trade their brainiac existence, at least occasionally, for a some flip-flops and iced tea? Well, in the end, maybe not.

I liked this book very much. I loved the Glass family, as messed up as they are, along with its matriarch. I thought it interesting, too, how reading this was like reading a play. Aside from Buddy’s letter to Zooey, Franny and Zooey has a clear delineation of three distinct scenes in two distinct acts. The sets are simple, yet close attention is paid to their design. Actor positions are described at every turn. Maybe it’s just me...maybe I wanted this to be a play for some weird reason, but it’s also what appealed most to me about the book, I think. It is the dialogue between the actors (and it is almost always one-on-one) that elucidates their character and it is the characters that made me love this book as much as I did.

Oh, and Zooey Glass is hot.

Salinger’ın zekasına, dehasına hayran olmaya devam ettiren bir metin. 9 öyküdeki unutulmaz karakter Seymour Glass’ın hikayesi devam ediyor.

“Kahraman yaratmak nasıl olur?” un açılımı benim için Franny ve Zooey. İleride ara ara dönüp tekrar okuyacağımdan çok eminim.
Okuyun ve hatta okutun :)


"Ego ego ego. Bıktım usandım. Kendiminkinden de başkalarınkinden de. Bir yere varmak, farklı ve ayrıcalıklı bir şeyler yapmak, ilginç biri olmak isteyen herkesten bıktım usandım. İğrenç bir şey bu -iğrenç iğrenç. Kimin de ne dediği umrumda bile değil."

Ten days after having finished reading this mysterious object of a "book", I am still at a loss to find words that can actually explain what it is exactly that I felt while reading this most puzzling piece of writing.

Its melancholy and elegance were only matched by its mannerisms and lack of focus. I still have absolutely no idea what it was trying to achieve or even what it was trying to say. As much as I enjoyed being suffused in its delicate atmosphere, I was also mostly gasping for air, for meaning, for a semblance of construction.

In the end, these two pieces felt as unfinished and unmoored as J.D. Salinger's own life. I could definitely feel a mind at work, experimenting, searching, exploring (which was captivating in itself) but the end product felt like an experiment, a first draft floating in the ether like dust in a ray of light. A succession of lovely moments and sentences and feelings that never fully gelled or took flight.

Maybe the forthcoming publication of new Family Glass writings by Salinger announced for 2015 will shed more light for me on this mesmerizing embryo.

امروز در حال خوندن کتاب فرنی و زویی به این جمله ی زویی رسیدم که خطاب به فرنی میگه: «دوس دارم-خیلی دوس دارم- مطمئن بشم که دعا خوندنو جایگزین وظیفه ت تو زندگی نکردی.»
دقیقا همین جا یاد قسمتی از کتاب “درمان شوپنهاور” افتادم که اتفاقا درست قبل از فرنی و زویی تمومش کرده بودم؛ اون جا یکی از شخصیت های داستان (پم) که برای درمان مشکلات روحیش عازم سفری به هندوستان میشه تا روحش رو در جوار تعالیم بودا و آیین های هندی درمان کنه، در اواخر اقامتش در اشرام(عبادتگاه خلوت و آرام مذهب هندو) در حالیکه گهگاه از اون همه مراقبه حوصلش سر میره ، به یاد این جمله ی نیچه میفته که« انسان را در درون آشوبی می باید تا اختری رقصان از او بزاید»
و همونجاست که سرچشمه ی تردیدش درباره ی ویپاسانا(نوعی از مراقبه) رو متوجه میشه. در این مراقبه ها همون طور که وعده داده شده بود آدمی به تعادل و آرامش می رسید اما به چه قیمتی؟ پم با خودش فکر کرد: «اگر شکسپیر به ویپاسانا می پرداخت آیا شاه لیر یا هملت زاده می شد؟ آیا هیچ یک از شاهکارهای ادبیات غرب نوشته می شد؟»
بی تردید پاسخ به این سوال منفیه.
به گمونم سلینجر -لااقل در قسمتهایی از کتابش- هم مثل یالوم به ما در مورد آیین ها و اعتقاداتی که صرفا بشر رو به سمت عزلت گزینی و دوری از دنیا و آدمهاش و همچنین پناه بردن افراطی به ماورا هدایت میکنه هشدار میده و ما را به در آغوش گرفتن زندگی با وجود همه ی کاستی ها و سختی هاش فرا میخونه؛همونجا که از زبون زویی به فرنی میگه: «بهتره مشغول بشی رفیق. کوتاه بیای روت خاک و کثافت می شینه.»
درست همون‌طور که نیچه گفته: «باید جوری زندگی کنیم که اگر فرصت دوباره و دوباره زیستن همین زندگی رو بهمون پیشکش کنند، بگوییم آری.»

Yesterday was the day of Rakshabandhan, an Indian festival celebrating the relationship between brothers and sisters, and I spent this day a few thousand miles away from my siblings. Last night I spent 2 hours at the dinner table talking to my roommate about those years when I used to celebrate Rakshabandhan at home with my sister and brother, about the years when we were growing up together. After yesterday's somewhat long dinner, I picked up Franny and Zooey from the page where I had left it the previous day. And within the next few pages, I was reading this wonderful dialogue between a sister and a brother. The book hadn't been particularly engaging for me so far, now suddenly it struck a chord with me. Franny, the sister, is undergoing an existential crisis and having a nervous breakdown. It is her brother Zooey who holds her hand, understands her and guides her out of it. Their house still holds the fragrance of their childhood days. Differently from The Catcher in the Rye which focuses only on Holden, here we can see the role of the family in shaping the views and opinions of Franny and Zooey. If it is this family that was in some way responsible for bringing about Franny's crisis, it is her family itself that helps her get through it.

And that is just one of the possible ways in which one could remember this book. It is capable of speaking to different people in a different manner, possibly in a very personal manner. The narrator of the story himself brings up the debate about it being a mystical story or a love story. It could easily be either one or both depending on the reader. Franny raises several profound questions and Zooey provides very thoughtful answers. Franny's questions could be rephrased to mirror some of the questions we might have faced at one point or another. And Zooey's answers could resonate with our own lives in some way. One is likely to spend more time thinking about this novel than in actually reading it.

میتونم بگم در کل 40صفحه معقول داشت...
به شخصه دوست ندارم این چنین مسائل رو انقدر سطحی ازشون بگذرم چون این متن کاملا سطحی و گذرا به خیلی از مسائل میپردازه..
از فرنی و زویی بگم که امثالشون کنارمون هستن و گاهی افراطی میتازونن و گاهی هم......
فقط در اخر بگم عمر ادمی بسیار بسیار کوتاهه و در مقابل اثار خیلی خوبی دارم که بهتره وقتمونو با اون دسته از کتابا پر کنیم.
به زور 2 ستاره اونم چون داداشم دوستش داره و مجموعه اثارشو داره و ماهم برداشتیم و خوندیم همین..:

به نظرم علاقه به کتاب‌های سالینجر صفر و صده، یا خیلی خوشتون میاد یه اصلا نمی‌پسندید