Catcher In The Rye

By J.D Salinger, some people hate it, some people love it. Either way it is considered a classic. I read it in school, I actually have no problem with the book, yes all it was was a whiny privileged kid complaining about nothing, cynical in his attitude and was the most false person in the entire book but how is that different from people's daily lives? Everyone complains about something. I don't think it's the greatest thing ever written but I didn't feel it was absolutely terrible, I think J.D Salinger was trying to show us the whiny, bitchy side in all of us, that most people don't want to admit is there. A lot of us scowl at society while secretly longing to be part of it.

Would people's opinion of the book change if it was re-written with a modern day aspect?
You know why they redid the Spider-Man movie after Tobey Maguire's run, don't you? I kid you not, the reason producers felt like Spider-Man had to be done over was because there was no mention of Facebook in it previously. They said that kids today couldn't relate to Tobey's Spider-Man because he didn't have Facebook. That's one of the most terrible reasons they could have come up with.
I think it can be pulled off with Catcher In The Rye as it would attract the teenage "emo" crowd.

So I was writing something and it began to remind me of Catcher In The Rye, I'm just going to scrap it altogether but I still found it hilarious in a way. So an excerpt, there's no title.


Darkness is a word with a double meaning, there's the literal sense as in, "hey, it's dark in here," and then there is the darkness where fear dwells within the body. It's that darkness that I'm referring to where the hairs on the back of your neck stands on end, that which makes every breath you draw painful as you run for your life.
            Darkness is a funny thing, we fear it and yet we're drawn towards it, we lie about it to our children, denying the fact that we ourselves are the monsters hiding in the closets and under the bed. We label it evil because we can't understand its thought patterns and demonize it while ravishing the rewards of misdeeds. 
            My father was called evil, he is the head of a corporation bent on owning the world, who perverted the senses and robbed humanity of its humanity, or so people say. What's humanity anyway? Loyalty? Dogs are loyal. Free will? Goats have free will, that's why they're so stubborn. Imposable thumbs and love? Monkeys have imposable thumbs and lionesses seemed to love their cubs. Humanity begins to sound a lot like mindless sheep ready for a slaughter when you really think about it.
             You see, humans aren't meant to be lambs, they're meant to eat them.
              Everyone wants to read about dark themes but when it comes down to it, they aren't too curious to tread into anything truly sinister where they can no longer deny it or maybe it's plain cowardice.
               No, it's definitely cowardice, why are people so afraid of the dark inside of themselves? If anything, doesn't it mean we are meant to be violent, self serving maniacs? We're all capable of it so why do we attach rules to ourselves that rules out our very nature?   
               What a hypocritical world.
               Those are my psychotic like thoughts as I pace in the dark room, this is my place. It's cramped in the small square I built around myself. Some people have cutting or drugs, I have darkness nearly robbing my sight of being able to handle light.
                The light is where mistakes are made and is where lies live. I want no part of that. It may seem crazy but just because those meaningless sheep can't understand my reasons doesn't make me insane. I sit in the corner with my hands on my head as if I'm in pain before deciding that my vision has become strong enough that I can see the items I've placed inside.
                My solitary room is located behind a secret panel within my father's office where he conducts all of his dirty dirty business.
                It is here that he sits in his leather chair with a phone in hand and a knife hidden behind his back as he makes life or death decisions for people he's never even met and yes I do mean life or death. Whether it be a worker, an accountant or some poor bloke on the street walking to his menial job to pay his rent, my father is up here above them like a deity ruling all.
                His back is turned as he watches the peons down below when I come out of the box. He has a slurpee on his desk waiting for me, a little generous token as he's come accustomed to my habits and my unconventional philosophy. I take it enjoying the cold rush past my teeth as I look away from my father's tailored back. "One day you'll learn Bryce," he says calmly, almost fatherly as he clenches his wrist a bit tighter behind his back.
                 I only snort turning away from the bright sunlight as it tears at my now sensitive eyes not that my father cares. I walk away as he continues to rumble on about how I need to see what could be in this urban wasteland that they call a city. They disgust me.


I dislike first person narrative. There's something very selfish and self centered about all the I's and me's. This won't be continued or finished. Originally the theme was supposed to be dark but people don't really want "dark" they want puppies and rainbows. All the heroes have been written and all their stories are the same, there's more character development in villains, it's high time we explore our fears. The absence of fear comes from understanding.