Hi everybody! First post from a longtime lurker. This is from "Teddy" by J. D. Salinger, 1953:
Teddy seemed oblivious of the fact that someone was standing at the foot of his chair--or, for that matter, casting a shadow over his notebook. A few people in the row or two behind him, however, were more distractible. They looked up at the young man as, perhaps, only people in deck chairs can look up at someone. The young man had a kind of poise about him, though, that looked as though it might hold up indefinitely, with the very small proviso that he keep at least one hand in one pocket. "Hello, there!" he said to Teddy.
Teddy looked up. "Hello," he said. He partly closed his notebook, partly let it close by itself.
"Mind if I sit down a minute?" the young man asked, with what seemed to be unlimited cordiality. "This anybody's chair?"
"Well, these four chairs belong to my family," Teddy said. "But my parents aren't up yet."
"Not up? On a day like this," the young man said. He had already lowered himself into the chair at Teddy's right. The chairs were placed so close together that the arms touched. "That's sacrilege," he said. "Absolute sacrilege." He stretched out his legs, which were unusually heavy at the thighs, almost like human bodies in themselves. He was dressed, for the most part, in Eastern seaboard regimentals: a turf haircut on top, run-down brogues on the bottom, with a somewhat mixed uniform in between--buff-colored woolen socks, charcoal-gray trousers, a button-down-collar shirt, no necktie, and a herringbone jacket that looked as though it had been properly aged in some of the more popular postgraduate seminars at Yale, or Harvard, or Princeton. "Oh, God, what a divine day," he said appreciatively, squinting up at the sun. "I'm an absolute pawn when it comes to the weather." He crossed his heavy legs, at the ankles. "As a matter of fact, I've been known to take a perfectly normal rainy day as a personal insult. So this is absolute manna to me." Though his speaking voice was, in the usual connotation, well bred, it carried considerably more than adequately, as though he had some sort of understanding with himself that anything he had to say would sound pretty much all right--intelligent, literate, even amusing or stimulating--either from Teddy's vantage point or from that of the people in the row behind, if they were listening. He looked obliquely down at Teddy, and smiled. "How are you and the weather?" he asked. His smile was not unpersonable, but it was social, or conversational, and related back, however indirectly, to his own ego. "The weather ever bother you out of all sensible proportion?" he asked, smiling.
A perfect debut - Welcome!
Thank you, Mr. Lean. More from Salinger:
Anyway, it was December and all, and it was cold as a witch's teat, especially on top of that stupid hill. I only had on my reversible and no gloves or anything. The week before that, somebody'd stolen my camel's-hair coat right out of my room, with my fur-lined gloves right in the pocket and all. Pencey was full of crooks. Quite a few guys came from these very wealthy families, but it was full of crooks anyway. The more expensive a school is, the more crooks it has-I'm not kidding. Anyway, I kept standing next to that crazy cannon, looking down at the game and freezing my ass off. Only, I wasn't watching the game too much. What I was really hanging around for, I was trying to feel some kind of a good-by. I mean I've left schools and places I didn't even know I was lean7ing them. I hate that. I don't care if it's a sad good-by or a bad good-by, but when I leave a place I like to know I'm leaving it. If you don't, you feel even worse.
Hey, this posting thing is fun! One more bit from Catcher in the Rye:
All of a sudden the door opened, and old Stradlater barged in, in a big hurry. He
was always in a big hurry. Everything was a very big deal. He came over to me and gave
me these two playful as hell slaps on both cheeks--which is something that can be very
annoying. 'Listen," he said. "You going out anywheres special tonight?"
"I don't know. I might. What the hell's it doing out--snowing?" He had snow all
over his coat.
"Yeah. Listen. If you're not going out anyplace special, how 'bout lending me
your hound's-tooth jacket?"
"Who won the game?" I said.
"It's only the half. We're leaving," Stradlater said. "No kidding, you gonna use
your hound's-tooth tonight or not? I spilled some crap all over my gray flannel."
"No, but I don't want you stretching it with your goddam shoulders and all," I
said. We were practically the same heighth, but he weighed about twice as much as I did.
He had these very broad shoulders.
"I won't stretch it." He went over to the closet in a big hurry. "How'sa boy,
Ackley?" he said to Ackley. He was at least a pretty friendly guy, Stradlater. It was partly
a phony kind of friendly, but at least he always said hello to Ackley and all.
Ackley just sort of grunted when he said "How'sa boy?" He wouldn't answer him,
but he didn't have guts enough not to at least grunt. Then he said to me, "I think I'll get
going. See ya later."
"Okay," I said. He never exactly broke your heart when he went back to his own
room.
Old Stradlater started taking off his coat and tie and all. "I think maybe I'll take a
fast shave," he said. He had a pretty heavy beard. He really did.
"Where's your date?" I asked him.
"She's waiting in the Annex." He went out of the room with his toilet kit and
towel under his arm. No shirt on or anything. He always walked around in his bare torso
because he thought he had a damn good build. He did, too. I have to admit it.
Now if I only could figure out how to post pictures...
Re: Salinger.
I'm English and so I don't know, but I always think that J.D.'s details are very telling and acurate. Am I right in this?
Being Norwegian myself, I really can't tell. But he certainly seems to have been a keen (and rather cynical) observer of what media students now call "cultural signifiers". Most novelists are, I suppose.
And there was, I guess, always something of an outsider-looking-in about him. For even if he grew up in a beautiful apartment smack on Park Avenue, went to some prestigeous prep schools, and later studied at Columbia, he never really seemed to have been a part of that culture, being jewish and all... In such situations small details become significant and very telling.
Does make sense at all? It´s been a while since I've written anything in English.
Makes perfect sense and I agree with you.
^ Fantastic!
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Last edited by Horace (2007-12-12 11:11:31)