Track Mangoes

In light of recent deaths all I can possibly say is this: NOOOOOOOO!!!

I remember reading The Catcher in the Rye in middle school and identifying with its broody protagonist, Holden. At the tender age I can remember feeling utterly kindred with him, contemptuous of everyone yet humored by the fact that no one could pick up on the fact that I was making fun of them all the time. Gosh, those were the days.

In college we seldom get time for pleasure reading. However, I made it a tradition to take The Catcher in the Rye with me every time I ventured into the sauna, the beating heart of Macalester's "Nard" center. There I would sweat out the day and all the frustrating elements that reviled me while reading about someone so molested by the world I could only feel better about myself.

Teenage angst. The ultimate detox.

Coming back to The Catcher in the Rye makes me realize just how wonderful the book really is. A middle schooler can pick it up and identify with Holden whole-heartedly, while the young adult understands that Holden is, often times, being ridiculously petulant, and the fully matured adult could reads it and is stricken with an emotion I have yet to know. Something tells me too that it's an emotion I wish not to know and that, I feel, is evidence that Mr. Salinger has done his job in becoming part of this troubled brain of mine.