Several years ago, I read The Catcher in the Rye mainly out of obligation. For me, part of the problem was the pervasiveness of the hype that this slim novel was going to rock my world.
I liked it. But, because I didn't love it, that somehow tempered the mere like with something more akin to dislike.
I did, however, remind myself that the unprecedented persona of the book's narrator peeled back the curtain on scornful, suspicious youth displeased with authority and perceptive of hypocrisies. It brought in conventions that were groundbreaking at the time – things we've seen trotted out ad nauseam in mediocre television, countless films, podcasts, party anecdotes, lame stand-up routines, after-school specials, and late night television monologues.
That said, I remained fascinated with the cult of personality around the reclusive author. J. D. Salinger's hardcore mission to remain apart from the celebrity his work brought him fueled the mystery. His Harper Lee-act served as reverse-psychology to lure dedicated fans.
Plus, it seems roundly purported that Salinger wrote many works during his decades of self-imposed exile -- works never seen by anyone. Though, since his death last year, I expect those undisclosed manuscripts will no-doubt come to light and fill the coffers of his beneficiaries.
Soon after Salinger died, I read about a Shane Salerno’s Salinger documentary (assembled over several years embracing the same cloak of secrecy the author himself demanded). The documentary is scheduled for release later this year. It's possible I'll gain more pleasure and entertainment from the documentary than I did from the book.
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