n  "Oh, I don’t know. That digression business got on my nerves. I don’t know. The trouble with me is, I like it when somebody digresses. It’s more interesting and all.”n

Yes, this review eventually will be about the book. My reviews always are. I'm boring this way. I envy the ability of my friends to digress in their review space and tell me a story which in some way was inspired by something in the book they just read, or its blurb, or - god forbid now, in the land of GR censorship of anything that does not look like a book report - author behavior, the new scary censorship-causing phrase out there, together with the now-used 'OFF TOPIC' excuse.

Because - oh the horror! - they dare to focus on the readers' opinion rather than the coveted by conglomerates endorsements of THE PRODUCT. Because for some of us literature does not equal product. Because for some of us, literature is what is designed to make us think and speak up, and not mindlessly consume (consumer instead of reader - that's making me shudder).n

But first I WILL digress (and it seems I already have). And Holden Caulfield, the conflicted rebel with all the makings of a phony of the kind he detests, would probably approve. And if Holden approves, who the hell cares if Goodreads or Amazon do?

n  “It’s this course where each boy in class has to get up in class and make a speech. You know. Spontaneous and all. And if the boy digresses at all, you’re supposed to yell ‘Digression!’ at him as fast as you can. It just about drove me crazy. I got an F in it.”
“Why?”
“Oh, I don’t know. That digression business got on my nerves. I don’t know. The trouble with me is, I like it when somebody digresses. It’s more interesting and all.”n

..........................

You can't really love The Catcher in the Rye if you are feeling happy and content. At least I can't. When I'm happy, all I see is a moody overly judgmental privileged teenager looking for reasons to bitch about the world and being immature and a phony. I have to feel some discontent to appreciate the hiding behind that facade helpless anger, pain, loss and a rebellious streak. Holden is - or at least sometimes unsuccessfully trying to be - a rebel. A troublemaker. A square peg in a round hole. (Yes, I am very aware I'm quoting the Apple commercial. So sue me. Maybe it's off-topic or something. You decide.)

And right now I am not happy and content seeing the site I used to love heading down the road that is perilous at best. The road that clearly shows preference towards consumers over readers. The consumerism mantra of buy-buy-buy is taking precedence over think-disagree-discuss-passionately argue-watch the truth being born. Holden Caulfield would not approve of such change in direction. And neither do I or so many people I have come to respect, people whose opinions help me discover the works of literature that I love.

Holden Caulfield's views and his expression of them were, admittedly, often juvenile, poorly thought-through and frequently just as phony as those of people he reviles. He was quick to jump to judgment, ignoring those who really cared for him. He was prejudiced, snobbish and arrogant, and a habitual liar, too. How often do the readers want to reach into the book and shake some sense into this boy spiraling down into desperation and a breakdown?

And yet there is something about the unhappy rebellious teenager that still resonates with us despite the obvious flaws. It is his anger itself, the rage against the world that is fake and all about appearances, about the power imbalance, about the smugness the powerful of this world carry with them. His emotions are so raw and so sincere that I may disagree with some of them but I sure as hell can't ignore them.

As we probably all know too well, The Catcher in the Rye has been one of the most challenged books of the 20th century, riling up the emotions and protests of the wannabe censors who thought it was their sacred duty to shield and protect the public from the work of literature that dared to offend their tender sensibilities. These self-appointed sensors were (quite ironically, if you think about it) trying to be nothing less than the self-appointed Catchers in the Rye, protecting our childlike innocence from falling prey to The Catcher in the Rye. What they fail to grasp is that the point of the book itself is that such seemingly noble efforts are useless, worthless, and quite phony in their presumptuousness of knowing what's best; that these efforts are a slippery slope that is futile and dangerous.

Just as it is equally presumptuous and patronizing and dangerous for any power to tell book readers there is a proper way to express their opinions, that they need to stay ON TOPIC (or else there will be a delete-button action equal to the shriek of 'Digression!' gleefully coming from Holden's classmates).

Playing self-appointed Catcher in the Rye to the delicate sensibilities of certain bookselling sites, entitled writers or a bunch of offended fans, shifting the focus from discussing literature to reviewing product and collecting data - all this is just as misguided as Holden's futile efforts of saving children from growing up.n

You see, this is what I love about Salinger's so often contested work - its ability to stir thoughts and opinions that go beyond the plot and the book report and make you think, and maybe -just maybe - be a touch rebellious, too. This is dangerous, in the best meaning of this word, the meaning that makes all the self-appointed censors uneasy. These censors would rather have everyone toe the line and do what's expected and never have to face anything that even remotely upsets delicate sensibilities.

But Holden Caulfield goes on being subversive. And occasionally being off topic - and that's perfectly fine by me.

n  "Oh, I don’t know. That digression business got on my nerves. I don’t know. The trouble with me is, I like it when somebody digresses. It’s more interesting and all.”n

....................

There’s this book that everybody keeps saying you gotta read. Its like you don’t have any choice, which kills me. I think we should always have a choice, but OK, I kind of understand that somebody is always going to choose something for somebody else if they can. I have this roommate who wouldn’t agree with that, but she is one of those pretty girls who always stands in front of the mirror combing her hair, so we aren’t gonna ask her what she thinks because, hey, she isn’t going to answer us. She is busy doing her hair. She’d say no one really HAS to read anything and so she never does. She kills me. I’m not kidding, she does.

Anyway, about that book, it was OK and I’m not saying it wasn’t. Well, I was a little drunk when I read it, but I can read even when I am drunk, while my roommate can’t even read when she is sober. The thing is, I heard everybody was harassing this guy that wrote that book so much that he had to hide away and avoid them for years. And, hey I thought it was a pretty good book. I didn’t like it but I would be happy to read it again. The characters weren’t like real people, well, some of them were, but anyway, why give this guy such a hard time even if you did think it was the best book ever? People who do that kill me. It could make you puke.

When I finished reading the book I was wanting to cry and I don’t know why. I wasn’t feeling sad or lonely, so it didn’t make sense. I guess I was thinking a bit about how much more I might have liked that book if I had read it when I was young like all the other people I know did. And, they all think it was great, and not just good but really great, even though I’m not sure why. But that isn’t to say I don’t think it was great, because I might.

ناتور دشت رو میشه بارها خوند و بارها همراه هولدن کالفید در برابر یک جامعه‌ی مزخرف طغیان کرد...لذتِ دوباره و دوباره‌ی ایستادن و تسلیم نشدن...هولدن منو بیش از هرکسی یاد تراویس بیکل (نقش رابرت دنیرو در فیلم راننده تاکسی) میندازه...هردو از اجتماع بیزار شده و مجبور به طرد شدن گشته اند و شاید تراویس بزرگسالی هولدن باشد...شاید هولدن هم راننده تاکسی شود و دوس دخترش را بدون هیچ نیت بدی به سینمای پو+رن ببرد...می تونه همچون تراویس با شرارت های جامعه روبرو بشه اما هنوز پسرکی شریف و بی غل و غش بمونه

:قسمت زیر برگرفته از سایت های اینترنتی است
یکی از تاثیرات بزرگ و جنجال برانگیز این کتاب قتل جان لنون اسطوره بی همتای موسیقی راک و موسس گروه بیتلز است که توسط مارک دیوید چپمن به قتل رسید. چپمن بارها ادعا کرده که انگیزه اصلی کشتن لنون بعد از خواندن این کتاب به او الهام شده است

الیا کازان کارگردان معروف سینما قصد داشت فیلمی بر اساس رمان ناتور دشت بسازد و هنگامی که می‌خواست رضایت سلینجر را جلب کند، سلینجر به او پاسخ داد که نمی‌توانم چنين اجازه‌ای بدهم زيرا می‌ترسم هولدن اين كار را دوست نداشته باشد

My first read of this classic was about 30 years ago and inspired by Mark David Chapman. I was stymied, and I did not understand this story. I picked this book up again Sunday night and immediately had an epiphany. I didn't enjoy the book much more per se, but it made so much more sense to me now.
Holden Caulfield is a disillusioned teenager, depressed and mentally disfigured. He has stopped applying himself, not only at school, but at life. The only thing that seems to mean anything to him is family, which he consistently disappoints. He finds no joy in anything he does and he has no willpower to follow through on ideas.
If this child lived today he'd be clinical. The whole time I read this book I couldn't help but focus on his mental breakdown. He was a walking poster child for emotional disease.
Although Salinger 's style of writing is a bit choppy and repetitive, he does an excellent job of expressing adolescent angst. His tangential pattern reflects Holden's thought process, which, when a person is depressed, can never stay on task or complete a notion. So many in this age group feel this way even today maybe even more so ; they just have more activities they're forced to participate in to hide the sadness and feed the anxiety.
As for my three star rating it simply reflects my desire to never read this again. It was good; I'm glad I read it. I'm ready to move on.

Yes, I like, very much much like, books like this. And if I say such things this character might say something about me. He just has a lot of opinion when he himself doesn't understand what's going on in his young young adult life.

"You can hit my father over the head with a chair and he won't wake up, but my mother, all you have to do to my mother is cough somewhere in Siberia and she'll hear you."

I cannot believe this crazy book was written in the 1950s.

I just love how entertaining and fun it is!

I don't know about the whatever historical or whatever background the story hides inside, behind and beyond it but all I did was pick up the book and read it like any other book.

It's so easy to get into and the writing is so much fun (did I say this before?).

The humour is just amazing.

I like flawed characters like this (because I get bored with fictionalized perfect ones and those which I cannot relate to).

This kid reminds me of Jeff's Wimpy Kid with extra bad stuffs like smoking, drinking, going to bars and hooking up with strangers (yes, the most probable reasons why this book is problematic or how this book is different from the basic young adult books).

Well, I say this character is pretty basic when it comes to teenage confusion, rebellion and characterization.

No one understands a teenager let alone a teenager understanding themselves.

No one is there for them in the actual basic sense when they need others as is depicted in this book (even when the character was pleading for their company).

I feel like I should have read this book growing up but I can understand well the character a lot more now as no matter how older you get, there's actually no one for you and no one can actually help you out when you are faced with your own shortcomings and difficult, darkest moments of your life.

It's the writing and the dry humour that got me.

A really short book (I felt like the book has only 25 pages the way it ended too soon!) which I ended up reading in one sitting (maybe a 6 hour sleep got interrupted in between as I started the book a few hours before midnight ☺️)

I am going to distribute this book to schools and argue with all the school authorities when they try to stop me.

Adults think they're protecting their growing up kids when they ban such books from them reading them but they're making us kids more vulnerable and ignorant (yes, it's possible to become more ignorant!) when they do so.

I see why this is a recommended read in schools and colleges worldwide.

My theory as to this book's unusually polarizing nature: either you identify with Holden Caulfield or you don't.

Those who see themselves (either as they were or, God help them, as they are) in Holden see a misunderstood warrior-poet, fighting the good fight against a hypocritical and unfeeling world; they see in Salinger a genius because he gets it, and he gets them.

Those of us who don't relate to Holden see in him a self-absorbed whiner, and in Salinger, a one-trick-pony who lucked into performing his trick at a time when some large fraction of America happened to be in the right collective frame of mind to perceive this boring twaddle as subversive and meaningful.

Well, this was a pain to get through.

First of all, this is a shitty way to start a novel no matter how you want to introduce your main character.

If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you'll probably want to know is where I was born and what my lousy childhood was like, and how my parents were occupied and all before they had me, and all that David Copperfield kind of crap, but I don't feel like going into it, if you want to know the truth.


That is easily one of the saddest, most pathetic introductions to a book. As I started this book, I wondered... if the introduction is like this, how will the rest of the book be?

This is what the rest of the book looked like:

"He was also the nicest, in lots of ways. He never got mad at anybody. People with red hair are supposed to get mad very easily, but Allie never did, and he had very red hair. I'll tell you what kind of red hair he had."

"I sort of used to go to Allie's baseball matches."

"It was around ten-thirty, I guess, when I finished it."

I can imagine Holden as this very insipid, boring little kid with no life in him whatsoever.

Also, Holden thinks everyone besides him is a phony and a moron. And he makes it very clear because he mentions it, like, every two pages. Literally... every damn time.

I read some of the comments regarding how I didn't understand this book because I didn't relate to it. That may be true. Very, very true. Regardless, I still think to this day that this book is a drag and has an unlikable main character and a dry, boring writing style. Perhaps I will read it again when I am older and maybe I'll enjoy it.

Título original: The Catcher in the Rye

Holden Caulfield, Rebel Without a Cause

Um fantástico estudo da adolescência. Holden Caulfield representa as obsessões e preocupações da juventude norte-americana da época, mantendo uma actualidade notável. Não encaixa em lado nenhum, mas tenta exprimir o que sente e construir uma realidade para a sua vida, e, pese embora todos os seus defeitos, é um ser humano que me cativou. Melancólico, cínico, e muitas vezes autodestrutivo a sua vulnerabilidade emocional e a sua busca pela verdade tornam-no um anti-herói adolescente icónico.

Okay. So it's like this. My not-just-GR-friend-but-very-real-friend brian called and told me that J.D. Salinger had died maybe about a half hour ago (as I begin this 'review'). This sounds immensely absurd, pathetically sentimental, and embarrassing to admit, but I'm glad I heard it from him and not from some animatronic talking head with chin implants and immobile hair on the nightly news or from an obnoxiously matter-of-fact internet blurb, commenting like a machine on how Holden Caulfield has lately become less relevant to Generation Y or Z or AA or whatever stupid generation we're up to now.

At first when brian told me, I thought, 'Oh, well... He was old. He was (probably) batshit crazy anyway. It was his time to check out, I guess.' Really. What difference does it make? He's been dead to the world since the mid-1960s. Before I was even born. A strong case could be made that he truly died in spirit when he started stalking Elaine Joyce on the set of 1980s sitcom Mr. Merlin. And yet... I still clung to this (still technically living) legend as if he were some kind of talisman I could wear around my neck, a good luck charm to ward off phonies and all manner of soulless dreck who populate this despicable world, writing 'fuck' on grammar school walls (and metaphorical equivalents).

After returning for a few minutes to my soul-deadening job, which -- when you really get right down to it -- is just another way of killing time until I join Salinger in oblivion, I started getting all funny-feeling about it. At the risk of sounding like an adult contemporary power ballad written by Jim Steinman, with synthesized violins in the background, I began to feel as if my adolescence had finally come to an end. I guess it's about time. I'm thirty-eight years old, and yet I look at the people who are my age -- hell, who are even much younger than I am -- and who appear in all particulars to be adults, and I grow frightened/alarmed that they've graduated to the 'next level': they're mating and spawning and drawing up wills and completing their own tax returns and investing money and dealing (gracefully -- or with stoicism?) with the deaths of friends and relatives... and even some of them have died themselves of terrible diseases -- the kinds of diseases which are not content with merely claiming lives but which demand the optimal human suffering (the optimal dehumanization) before they cash in.

So of course. I love all of Salinger's writing, but his value in my life has far surpassed that of a 'mere' literary pastime. He has kept me company for many years when I felt left behind by the exigencies of time and the claims of 'maturity.' In my head, I still picture myself as a nineteen-year-old, and I'm shocked again and again when somehow every other moron on the planet seems to be under the ridiculous impression that I'm a thirty-eight-year-old man. With graying hair. And deepening crow's feet. What idiots!

I know all of this shit I'm saying is cliché, cliché, cliché. Lots and lots of people feel a special connection to Salinger's writing -- for just the reasons I described -- and lots and lots of people hate his writing because they find it grating and immature (Catcher in the Rye) or pretentious and ponderous (the Glass family stories). But I felt compelled to commemorate today in some way -- however trite and superfluous -- because I sense again and again (with the relatively recent deaths of some of my heroes, like Ingmar Bergman and Jacques Derrida, for instance) that I am entering a world that is no longer safeguarded by the great men and women of the elder generation; I am entering a world in which I am now the elder... with my own responsibilities and obligations. Yes, this still frightens me, but I'll always have Salinger's very particular and empathetic world to which to retreat when I have sacrificed too much of myself to a real world I'll never completely understand or feel at home in.

Did I enjoy this? No. Did I connect to any of the characters? Also, no. But did I appreciate all this was trying to do and look up different aspects that were revealed, through and beyond the actual story told? Yes and yes.

حالا ببینید ناتور(ناطور) دشت چگونه نام‌گذاری شده، عمق معنای آن کجاست؟ به این خاطر گفتگویی انجام دادم با افشین رفاعت داستان نویس جوان‌مان که در واشنگتن به دنیا آمده و آنجا آرشیتکت شده و در فضا و هوای نیویورک به فارسی داستان می‌نویسد. ناتور دشت یعنی نگهبان دشت. از افشین رفاعت می‌خواهم کمی راجع به ناتور دشت حرف بزند و بگوید چه دریافتی از این نام دارد:
با سلام خدمت شنوندگان رادیو زمانه. من به طور خیلی خلاصه در این مدت کوتاه خدمت‌تان عرض می‌کنم کتابی رسید به دستم به نام "ناتور دشت" که توسط آقای احمد کریمی قبل از انقلاب ترجمه شده و مجددا توسط انتشارات ققنوس تجدید چاپ شده است. وقتی به مشخصات کتاب نگاه کردم متوجه شدم که کتاب در حقیقت ترجمه کتاب "کچر این د رای" به انگلیسی اثر مشهور سلینجر است، اما هیچ ارتباطی نتوانستم بین عنوان کتاب و ترجمه کتاب به فارسی پیدا کنم. وقتی که کتاب را همزمان به فارسی و انگلیسی می‌خواندم برایم سوال بود که "کچر این د رای" به انگلیسی یعنی چی و به چه صورت می‌توان عنوان کتاب را ترجمه کرد. با توجه به این که شخصیت داستان در متن داستان اشاره می‌کند که می‌خواهد مراقب مزرعه چاودار باشد {که در حقیقت منظور از مزرعه همان دشت است} و یا حتی اسم کتاب به صورت اشتباه خواندن از سطر یکی از شعرهای رابرت برنز گرفته شده است اما باز هم نامفهوم باقی می‌ماند. تا اینکه در یکی از جلسه‌های ادبی که با چند تن از دوستان و استادان دانشگاه نیویورک داریم این بحث را به میان کشیدم که "کچر این د رای" یعنی چه؟ برای یک آمریکایی چه مفهومی دارد و یا حتی برای یک خواننده‌ی خارجی که کتاب را به زبان دیگری می‌خواند؟ چون در انگلیسی هم اگر لغت به لغت، عنوان کتاب را ترجمه کنیم واقعا معنی‌اش همان "گیرنده در چاودار" است و همانطور که عرض کردم این چه معنی و مفهومی می‌تواند داشته باشد؟
یکی از اساتید که از مطرح کردن این مسئله بسیار خوشحال شده بود و در این مورد تحقیق کرده بود بحث را خیلی استادانه باز کرد و شکافت و گفت: "سلینجر از عنوان کتاب استفاده متافوریکال یا استعاره‌ای کرده و در حقیقت "کچر این د رای" یک استعاره است. چرا که در زمان قدیم وقتی "رای" یا همان گندم سیاه یا چاودار را برداشت و پراسس می‌کردند دستگاه‌ها آنقدر مدرن و پیشرفته نبود و همیشه شخصی می‌ایستاد با سبد یا با دستاری دور کمرش که دانه‌هایی را که از ماشین به بیرون پرتاب می‌شود، بگیرد و دوباره به ماشین برگرداند که دوباره پراسس بشود و برای تهیه فراورده‌ مورد استفاده قرار بگیرد. فراورده‌ای که می‌تواند نان، سریال، آبجو، ودکا و یا ویسکی باشد پس "کچر" یا "گیرنده" از هدر رفتن دانه‌ها جلوگیری می‌کرده و دو مرتبه دانه‌های رها شده را به ماشین بر می‌گردانده و در حقیقت این استعاره‌ای است برای نگهبانی کردن از این دانه‌ها، دانه‌هایی که می‌توانند بچه‌هایی باشند که دارند هر لحظه به لبه‌ی پرتگاه یا صخره نزدیک می‌شوند، بچه‌هایی که در دشت مشغول بازی هستند. این همان نگهبان دشت است." استاد نتیجه گیری کرد که ترجمه کتاب با خلاقیت و مهارت بسیار زیادی انجام گرفته و باید به این مترجم با این انتخاب درست و صحیحش آفرین گفت. صفحات 142 و 143 کتاب این سو و آن سوی متن. کارگاه داستان نویسی عباس معروفی در رادیو زمانه. گردآوری و تنظیم حمیدرضا سلیمانی. 166 صفحه

Worst, Book, Ever.

For reals. I read this short "book" twice and wrote a couple of papers on it, even comparing it unfavorably to Little Women. I hated Little Women and I would still rate it higher than J.D. Salinger's crap-fest.

My reasoning for such a poor rating is simple: Catcher in the Rye has no beginning, middle, or end. Instead of a story it is a clumsy glimpse into the worthless life of the apathetic main character Holden Caulfield who leaves no mark and accomplishes nothing of value.

I can't believe it when anyone says that they sympathize with Caulfield. That he "speaks the things which they can't". Every time I hear someone gushing about Catcher in the Rye and it's nonsensical ramblings a little part of me dies.

Every time someone finishes this book and puts it down thoughtfully, tilting their head in mock understanding as they furrow their childish brows, Satan laughs and high fives J.D. Salinger amidst Hell's furious flames.

When Catcher in the Rye is read aloud backwards from finish to start, it opens up an extra-dimensional portal where Lovecraftian horrors spew endlessly into our peaceful world. When it's read aloud forwards from start to finish, people fall asleep from boredom.

Your evil twin loves Catcher in the Rye and twirls his or her's nefarious pencil thin mustache while reading it. They laugh their evil doppleganger laugh while thinking of evil ways to ruin your life thanks to J.D. Salinger.

In his early days, Salinger pulled a thorn out of a witch's foot who granted him a wish, which was to write the great American novel. Unfortunately, the witch's foul magicks were encapsulated in the book, Catcher in the Rye and Salinger hung himself in shame immediately after it's publishing.

I could literally go on and on for days like this. This book is awful and if you like it you're a putz.

I'm sorry... it's just... I'm sorry.