The Catcher in the Rye is a very novelistic novel. There are readymade “scenes” – only a fool would deny that – but, for me, the weight of the book is in the narrator’s voice, the non-stop peculiarities of it, his personal, extremely discriminating attitude to his reader-listener, his asides about gasoline rainbows in street puddles, his philosophy or way of looking at cowhide suitcases and empty toothpaste cartons – in a word, his thoughts. He can’t legitimately be separated from his own first-person technique.
- An Uncanny Adventure of Family and Loss: Jeremy Robert Johnson’s “In the River” Reviewed
- “Whatever You Do, Don’t Figure ‘It’ Out”: An Interview with Catherine Lacey
- We All Just Want to Be Touched: A Review of Courtney Maum’s “Touch”
- History, Revision, and Rebellion: An Interview With Molly Patterson