Catcher In The Rye :: Essays Papers

Catcher In The Rye â€Å"Oh literature, oh the glorious Art, how it preys upon the marrow in our bones. It scoops the stuffing out of us and chucks us aside† (David Herbert Lawrence). Well-written works of literature have the undeniable ability to kidnap readers, carry them away into the story’s imaginary world, and hold the reader for ransom, away from a world where they may not be anticipating the return. This type of literary escape is scarce in today’s fast-paced society. One is submitted into a fantasy, in which opinions and ideas about the characters and situations expand beyond all possibilities. Literature acts as a valuable aid for self-growth; it nourishes intellect, cheers one up, or relaxes mind and spirit. Nikki Giovanni asks the question, â€Å"ever been kidnaped/by a poet† (Giovanni 346). If one has not yet been enriched by this feeling, the mystery must be unveiled. To say that I have experienced this feeling from only one piece of literature would prove a great injustice to my literary history. There have been countless moments in my life where I have left time and place to enter a world created by the author, but perfected by my own interpretations and impressions. The literary work that stands out most my mind is The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger. This is one of the most absorbing novels I had the privilege to read. The plot of this story concerns a young man, Holden Caulfield, being expelled from one of a long list of schools. The intriguing part of this story is how he perceives and understands his own human condition. He experiences unexplained depression and erratic behavior, which leads to an eventual nervous breakdown in a world he views as invaded by â€Å"phony† adults who corrupt innocent children. The title is justified when Holden is talking to his little sister. She asks what he wants to be when he grows up. He asks her if she’s ever heard the song â€Å"If a body catch a body comin’ through the rye.† He continues: I keep picturing these little kids playing some game in this big field of rye and all. Thousands of little kids, and nobody’s around-nobody big, I mean-except me. And I’m standing on the edge of some crazy cliff.