Holden Caulfield made me cry

I’m musing about how the same things affect me differently at different points in my life.

Specifically, rereading books.

I’m an inveterate rereader, and if I love a book, I’ll read it over and over again.

Example: I recently read The Jock by Tal Bauer and actually marked it on my kindle as “unread” so I could go through and enjoy it all over again because it was so well done.

But recently, I decided to reread Catcher in the Rye by JD Salinger.

I think the first time I read it was in high school, and I liked it just fine. But I also knew it was “cool” to like Holden Caulfield, and I just kind of thought it was a relatable book, but not that big of a deal. It was “good.”

I reread it in college, too. Same battered copy. And again, I liked it. It was “cool.” It was “good.”

I don’t remember if I read it any other times. It’s possible. But it’s also been at least a decade, maybe more, since I read it.

Then I reread it this year, and it made me cry—actual, real, ugly, fat tears because I was so moved by the end of it. My reaction blindsided me. I was unprepared for the emotional impact the book had on me as an adult that it did not have when I was younger.

Now, clearly, the book didn’t change. I reread the very same battered copy I originally read in high school—which was yellowed and faded with the cover missing even back then when I read it the first time. The story didn’t change. Holden Caulfield didn’t change.

I did.

I’m not even going to write here the part that made me cry, because maybe if I reread it, it won’t happen again. I’ll have moved on to something else.

All I know is as an adult, the poignancy of the book shook me. I appreciated how underwritten it was. I finally understood all he did not say.

I think I was finally the right reader for the book.

This goes back to my philosophy that a reader brings all sorts of things to a book. It’s not an author talking to a reader; it’s a reader experiencing life as prompted by a writer. JD Salinger certainly couldn’t have controlled any of my three (or more) reactions to his work, but I’m grateful he chose to share it with the world.

If you don’t reread books, or if there is one that you thought you “should” like, but didn’t, and it’s been a while since you tried reading it, see what happens if you give it another shot. You might just learn something about yourself.

My battered copy of Catcher in the Rye