A Tribute

Last week, American author J.D. Salinger died.

I feel the need to mark his passing because I acknowledge a certain indebtedness to this particular author. Not because reading The Catcher in the Rye held any significance for me (to my remembrance, I hated this story when I read it in college.) But because his writing (yet perhaps his only by chance) had a hand in the reawakening of my soul to its forgotten love of all things literary. It was his collection of short stories (Nine Stories) that I happened upon at the local library a year or so ago. I don't have the utterance to express what I experienced as I read this collection. I can only say this -- that it wasn't the stories that touched me, but more simply the writing itself that moved me. Reading this writing was the highest pleasure. The prose was pure poetry. I was hooked. Again.

I read in the university newspaper that many of the author's materials have been donated to the Harry Ransom Center, materials that "offer an intimate perspective of his life." When I saw this, immediately I was intrigued and thought about making a trip to the center to peruse the collection.

But then, I thought, considering what little I have read about this man and his life, wouldn't it be more fitting NOT to go? This person who chose to life his life in a reclusive manner, out of the limelight, whose last published work was in 1965 - would it honor this person to flock together with all the other Salinger devotees to rifle through his personal materials and speculate about his life? I don't believe it would.

So for my part, I will only offer this small, inconsequential tribute. I will remain hooked. And I will continue to be inspired.

Many thanks.