J.D.Salinger isn't really dead, oh,maybe in the physical
But not the metaphysical.....his words live and breathe, on thier very own
I don't pity J.D.Salinger in the slightest, regardless of his kind of sad, solitary existence
He never suffered from writers block, he lived comfortably in the woods of scenic Vermont
his first novel exploded onto the literary scene and has been reprinted God knows
how many times
The man stormed the beach of Normandy with copies of the first draft of Catcher
in his knapsack
He carried scorched dead bodies from the concentration camps
the smell, that still lingered in his nostrils
He was a survivor.
Most Authors would kill to have a work of thiers praised and heralded
But Salinger in the end, regretted Catcher in the rye....the exposure, scrutiny
I say, boo, hoo
Some many people,in so many walks of life, never get even a Thank you, good job
for their efforts, you did,in spades, my dear fellow
You never stopped writing
You left some Easter eggs, behind
Five new books (one a diary)
You knew, what you were doing, all along
You devil.......
No comments:
Post a Comment