I recently reread J.D. Salinger’s The Catcher in the Rye and realized what has made this novel such a cherished addition to classic American literature. The story is fueled not by plot – which runs its course in about a week’s time – but rather the cynical and humorously honest perspective of Holden Caulfield.

Holden as a narrator is endearingly likeable, and moreover he finds friendship with the reader.  A recurrent expression in his narration, “if you want to know the truth,” implies that the reader has won the merit of Holden’s honest, albeit exaggerated, perspective. And as we become further acquainted with Holden, we realize that sort of human approval does not come often. This phrase invites us to understand him in a way he does not yet understand himself. He admits that certain ordinary social customs have a tendency to “depress the hell outta” him. But he is not aware that this mistrust in traditional upbringing becomes an increasingly heroic quality both alienating and distinguishing him from his peers.

Because of my admiration of Salinger’s ability to carefully craft such a disenchanted yet highly intuitive character, I was surprised to read that the story’s first readers did not agree. In fact, The New Yorker turned down an excerpt of the novel due to the precocious attitude of the narrator, which they believe distracting to the story. Another critic, Eugene Reynel could not discern whether or not Holden was actually insane. In his article, “Holden at Fifty,” Louis Menand suggests, “that it might end up on the syllabus for ninth-grade English was probably close to the last thing Salinger had in mind when he wrote the book.”  Why then, has The Catcher in the Rye become such a staple in the canon of coming-of-age literature?

I find that despite his colloquial tone and boyish mannerisms, Holden is not so much a voice of teenagers but of a certain restlessness within society. To draw upon Menand’s observation, this identity would be the farthest thing from Holden’s perception of himself. In fact, it is a description he would invariable deem “phony.” However, Salinger deliberately does not instill these beliefs within a radical outcast, but instead a quirky mischief-maker with whom the reader cannot help but sympathize. As Menand writes, teenagers notoriously love to identify themselves with Holden. He suffers from an inability to “apply himself” in academics and social expectations.  And yet he is strongly dedicated to his personal relationships: his instinctive respect towards girls, his protection of his sister Phoebe, and his affinity for his audience.

And therein lies the true power of Holden Caulfied – he is an unassuming hero and the perfect disguise for Salinger’s humorous social criticisms. We’re invited, and never forced, to adopt Holden’s view of the world.  He is conflicted and compassionate, and if you want to know the truth, I think he’s one of the most complex rebels in English literature.

Louis Menand’s article, “Holden at Fifty:” http://www.newyorker.com/archive/2001/10/01/011001fa_FACT3