I am not a literary fiction kind of gal. And have not yet to read a Salinger. This had been sitting on my shelf for a long time, borrowed from the acaI am not a literary fiction kind of gal. And have not yet to read a Salinger. This had been sitting on my shelf for a long time, borrowed from the academic library I work in. On a funny coincidence, my library copy looks almost exactly the same of this picture on Goodreads, a little crease in the corner and the iconic penguin in the corner. I chose two portions that I liked:
‘..My god. I can’t even sit down to lunch with a man anymore and hold up my end of a decent conversation. I either get so bored or so goddam preachy that if the son of a bitch had any sense, he’d break his chair over my head.’
“The rest, with very little exaggeration, with books. Meant-to-be-picked-up-books. Permanently left behind books. Uncertain-what-to-do-with-books. But books, books. Tall cases lined three walls of the room, filled to and beyond capacity. The overflow had been piled in stacks on the floor. There was a little space left for walking, and none whatever for pacing.”
I enjoyed Franny’s portion more, conflicted in the miniate and trivialness of her college cohort and their frivolous pursuits, although heartbreaking in her conflict of her spirituality and search for inner peace as she reads a spiritual book and becomes increasingly obsessed with the concept.
Her brother is a cocky bloke; the long conversation between he and his mother whilst in the bathroom was interesting. His sister is on the verge of a spiritual breakdown as he tries in vein to help her see sense and try to stop her from becoming more bogged down and desperate.
The Glass family is large and complex, children smart and assured. I was glad this was only small as it didn’t resonate with me as it would have with most readers; I imagine it would have been a classic in American high schools and colleges. I am glad I read this as a part of American classical literature....more
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