Friday, February 5, 2010

The Friday Fish Wrap

An enigma wrapped in a mystery: What do you mean, who was J.D Salinger?

Jerome David Salinger, Author. Born 1 January, 1919, died at age ninety-one on 27 January 2010. Successful author and perennial contributor to The New Yorker magazine on the subject of cultural criticism.

His seminal work was 
Catcher in the Rye.

It is apparent from what has been written about what we did not know about him since his death that his relentless pursuit for privacy had been largely successful.

For many, myself included, it was the mystery of his silence, punctuated by occasional outpourings of brilliance that made him so interesting.  For thirty years, the mystery of his life kept us waiting with baited breath.

Now, after being denied entrance to his private sanctum for so long, the questing for answers has begun.

Writers and readers alike are wondering what will be found. Perhaps reams of manuscripts filled with cultural criticism that will incite a millennium of debate. Perhaps Salinger left behind a trove of new Holden Caulfield's for them to discover, or maybe more tales of members of the Glass family.

Whatever comes, I am neither immune nor alone in the hope that other works will surface.

When that day comes, whether we shall be moved to gladness or sadness, I cannot say.

... but whatever it is, by Salinger we will be moved.


From the odd-bins:

WANTED:Translator with experience in child-speak 

Part-Time owner-operator of small child requires translator conversant in one-year-oldish.

Proof of experience required. Please provide translation of the following;

gillanenous throth of fwowl


thilmeth prompthle wazzzal

P.O. Box 999

... and finally...

For Sale: Cheap

A bitter pill, a spare pet peeve, a couple of virulent viruses, a rancourous rage , a spiteful mischief, another vicious circle, a couple of vitriolic criticisms, a savage beast, a half dozen ferocious fears, a hate-filled Hattie [don' ask], a venomous villain ,a couple of poison pens, a poisonous piety for which there is no antidote , several acrid smells, and a rather nasty headache.

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