Friday Unrelated Information

1. I found a Salinger quote (I think from "Hapworth 16, 1924") in the blog archives that is encouraging:
"I find it magnificent how beautiful loose ends find each other in the world if one only waits with decent patience, resilience, and quite blind strength."

2. This video from the Shelter Pet Project has been making the rounds, but it's hilarious:


3. And in other old-but-new-to me news, I've discovered the Hobbit Name Generator. It's hours of fun (and there's an Elvish Name Generator, too!).

This Ad

This Cole Haan ad makes me covet that grass-green satchel (naturally), but "THE HEART IS A..." in the background also makes me think of Franny and Zooey: In the first part of "Zooey," he has a script for a play called "The Heart is an Autumn Wanderer," which inspires one of my favorite Salinger conversations.

"'The Heart is an Autumn Wanderer,'" [Mrs. Glass] read, mused, aloud. "Unusual title."

The response from behind the shower curtain was a trifle delayed but delighted. "It's a what? It's a what kind of title?"

Mrs. Glass's guard was already up..."Unusual, I said. I didn't say it was beautiful or anything so just--"

"Ahh, by George. You have to get up pretty early in the morning to get anything really classy past you, Bessie girl. You know what your heart is, Bessie? Would you like to know what your heart is? Your heart, Bessie, is an autumn garage. How's that for a catchy title, eh?"

I wish I could go around telling people their hearts are autumn garages, but the insult really only works with Salinger fans. (Wish I had that purse, too!)

Nice Things

It has been a week of crazy clients, anxiety, and stupid things happening (Toby's space heater broke, I tried to go to Brewvies Tuesday after work and the film projector broke, etc. etc.), so I had to read some Franny and Zooey last night. Here is a scene of Zooey watching a little girl playing with her dog--and yes, in the book it's all one paragraph:

A fair-sized maple tree stood in front of the girls' private school...and at that moment a child of seven or eight, female, was hiding behind it. She was wearing a navy-blue reefer and a tam that was very nearly the same shade of red as the blanket on the bed in van Gogh's room at Arles. Her tam did, in fact, from Zooey's vantage point, appear not unlike a daub of paint. Some fifteen feet away from the child, her dog--a young dachshund, wearing a green leather collar and leash--was sniffing to find her, scurrying in frantic circles, his leash dragging behind him. The anguish of separation was scarcely bearable for him, and when at last he picked up his mistress's scent, it wasn't a second too soon. The joy of reunion, for both, was immense. The dachshund gave a little yelp, then cringed forward, shimmying with ecstasy, till his mistress, shouting something at him, stepped hurriedly over the wire guard surrounding the tree and picked him up. She said a number of words of praise to him...then put him down and picked up his leash, and the two walked gaily west, toward Fifth Avenue and the Park and out of Zooey's sight..."God damn it," he said, "there are nice things in the world--and I mean nice things. We're all such morons to get so sidetracked."

Salinger-Related Information (On A Friday)

1. I learned yesterday (like most of you) that J.D. Salinger died Wednesday, at the age of 91. His New York Times obituary focuses mainly on his 50 years of reclusiveness, but did have this to say about the italics:
The stories were remarkable for their sharp social observation, their pitch-perfect dialogue (Mr. Salinger, who used italics almost as a form of musical notation, was a master not of literary speech but of speech as people actually spoke it), and for the way they demolished whatever was left of the traditional architecture of the short story — the old structure of beginning, middle, end — in favor of an architecture of emotion, in which a story could turn on a tiny alteration of mood or irony.

2. I have to admit that I always wondered if more Salinger would be published after he died, but now that he's dead I'd rather think of him still writing every day than of being able to read more of his work.

3. If you would like to read any of the short stories online, you can use your subscription to The New Yorker to do so here or you can read them for free (gasp! just like a library!) here.

ETA: 4. And The Onion's take on it: Bunch of Phonies Mourn J.D. Salinger. Thank you, Onion.

Friday Unrelated Information

1. I've had an unfocused, uninspired week, which is why the blog has suffered: I'm not interested in my latest projects and I'm only reading self-help books, so I don't even have anything good to quote here.

2. But there's always Salinger...in my opinion, Franny and Zooey IS a self-help book, just better written. Here's Zooey at the end talking about detachment, the theme of the week:
You can say the Jesus Prayer from now till doomsday, but if you don't realize that the only thing that counts in the religious life is detachment, I don't see how you'll ever even move an inch. Detachment, buddy, and only detachment. Desirelessness. "Cessation from all hankerings."

3. And finally, I wish this t-shirt used a better font, because I really love the sentiment:
"I knit so I don't kill people." Amen.

Another Salinger Cop-Out

Yes, it's been busy today, so we can all be glad I keep a record of these passages as I find them. (And yes, that is a James Thurber drawing of a dog. That's a particularly brilliant detail our old buddy Salinger adds.)

This is from "A Young Girl in 1941 With No Wast At All," Salinger's short story originally published in The New Yorker:

She was a beautifully, a perfectly, gray-haired woman in a long sleeved evening gown with Thurber dogs in the pattern. She was wearing a pear-shaped diamond ring and a diamond bracelet. Just on sight no one very sensible would have laid bets on her background. She might, years ago, have walked very erectly across a Broadway stage, with an ostrich fan, singing A Pretty Girl Is Like A Melody, or something similarly ostrich fan-ish. She might have been an ambassador’s daughter or a fireman’s daughter. She might have been her husband’s secretary for years. As only second-class beauty can be identified, there was no way of telling.

Salinger, Part III

"I find it magnificent how beautiful loose ends find each other in the world if one only waits with decent patience, resilience, and quite blind strength."

Let's hope this is proved correct. We have a huge site that has to go up Monday morning, and it's still being built. I hope our blind strength will be enough. It's a little sleep-deprived at this point.

Salinger, Part II

From the same story as yesterday:

While the food itself is not atrocious, it is cooked without a morsel of affection or inspiration, each string bean and simple carrot arriving on the camper's plate quite stripped if its tiny vegetal soul...A nameless inertia hangs over these two [the cooks], alternating with fits of unreasonable wrath, stripping them of any will or desire to prepare creditable, affectionate food or even to keep the bent silverware on the tables spotless and clean as a whistle. The sight of the forks alone often whips Buddy into a raw fury. He is working on this tendency, but a revolting fork is a revolting fork.

Word, Salinger

I have to admit that last week I had a moment of doubt and thought, "Is Salinger still alive?" He is, and I discovered lots of his uncollected stories have been put online. While this is not expressly against his wishes (they were published once, after all), it's probably entering the murky waters of copyright infringement. But in the spirit of the Internet, here's a link to the story "Hapworth 16, 1924," written by a precocious 7-year-old Seymour Glass. (It's a long story, so be warned.) It had such gems as this in it:

Few of these magnificent, healthy, sometimes remarkably handsome boys will mature. The majority, I will give you my heartbreaking opinion, will merely senesce. Is that a picture to tolerate in one's heart? On the contrary, it is a picture to rip the heart to pieces.

That's just so satisfying to hear.

Dombey & Son

I was in a Dickens mood about three weeks ago, went to the main library, and came home with Dombey and Son, which is a later one. I'm about 200 pages into it and getting my Dickens fix (there are lots of descriptions of somber parlors, a "flaxen-haired" little girl, and someone young has just died), but most people I've talked to (okay, only three people, but that's most of my accquaintance) have never heard of Dombey and Son. I had, distantly, and realized last night it was mentioned by Salinger in Franny and Zooey. I love the italics, so it's the quote for the day. (A quote from literature, about literature! It's a good day.) This is Franny speaking, near the end:

"He said he was--this is exactly what he said--he said he was sitting at the table in the kitchen, all by himself, drinking a glass of ginger ale and eating saltines and reading 'Dombey and Son,' and all of a sudden Jesus sat down in the other chair and asked if he could have a small glass of ginger ale. A small glass, mind you--that's exactly what he said. I mean he says things like that, and yet he thinks he's perfectly qualified to give me a lot of advice and stuff!"

So every time I think or read "Dombey and Son," it comes out Dombey.