Irony

I’ve been meaning to write about J.D. Salinger since I saw notice of his death on the front page of my daily paper a few days ago. Even though I sometimes hate to admit that I’m affected by the same things that others of my generation are, I must admit to being one of the many influenced by Salinger.

Catcher in the Rye, which I discovered at some point in my 13th year, felt like re-learning how to read. I went with this new discovery with an ache in my chest for more, leaving behind my teen novels about girls and horses, even though Salinger's other books did not appeal to me in the same way.

I’d discovered “literature” and went on to read those others whose voices caused a cord in me to vibrate like a tuning fork. Still, there remained something unique about Holden Caufield, his voice, and its affect on me.

“With its cynical, slangy vernacular voice, its sympathetic understanding of adolescence and its fierce if alienated sense of morality and distrust of the adult world, the novel struck a nerve…. Reading “Catcher” used to be an essential rite of passage….”

I can still remember insisting that my son, who was a reader, read “Catcher,” and reading it aloud to my daughters, none of whom had the same visceral response that I did. I was forever changed.

One thing about the article struck me strangely though – and it was about Salinger’s use of irony. It said he was a master of it. For all my long love-affair with “Catcher” I never thought of it as ironic. I’m sure I didn’t know the meaning of the word when I first read it, and I still find it a little confusing.

Catcher in the Rye, like many of my favorite reads, wasn’t then, and isn’t now, a book that I remember for its content. I remember it for it getting inside of me, sort of in the same way I got inside of Holden Caulfield (and maybe Salinger), and for what it did to me. It did something like lighting a fire – perhaps the fire of my discontent. I’m no longer sure, although I agree with the idea that it had a sympathetic understanding of adolescence, which I’m sure I craved. Caulfield was the first literary character I identified with. He seemed like me instead of like someone I would want to, but never could, be like.

And so I guess I can believe he introduced me to irony, because all of this is as clear as mud. Why do you love someone who gets you all riled up and agitated? Maybe because at the same time, you get calmed down and breathe a sigh of relief.

The rest of the article was about Salinger’s reclusiveness. Is that another irony?

Whatever. I tip my hat to the guy. He spoke to me.

Quote from the St. Paul Pioneer Press, 7A, "J.D. Salinger 1919-2010, Literary master ... and mystery," 1-29-10.