TAPAS: Does it like me?

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                    <person xml:id="persHolden">
                        <persName>Holden Morrisey Caulfield</persName>
                    </person>
                    <person xml:id="persSally">
                        <persName>Sally Hayes</persName>
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                    <person xml:id="persGeorge">
                        <persName>George Harrison</persName>
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                    <person xml:id="persCarl">
                        <persName>Carl Luce</persName>
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                    <org xml:id="orgPencey">
                        <orgName>Pencey Preparatory School for Boys</orgName>
                    </org>
                    <org xml:id="orgWoodruff">
                        <orgName>Mary A. Woodruff School for Girls</orgName>
                    </org>
                    <org xml:id="orgSak">
                        <orgName>Saks</orgName>
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                    <org xml:id="orgAltman">
                        <orgName>Altman</orgName>
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                        <orgName>Lord and Taylor</orgName>
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            <p>ON vacation from <orgName>Pencey Preparatory School for Boys ("An Instructor for
                    Every Ten Students")</orgName>, <persName>Holden Morrisey Caulfield</persName>
                usually wore his <ref>chesterfield</ref><note>A long overcoat, popular in the 19th
                    and 20th century.</note> and a hat with a cutting edge at the "V" in the crown.
                While riding in <placeName>Fifth Avenue</placeName> buses, girls who knew Holden
                often thought they saw him walking past <orgName>Saks'</orgName> or
                    <orgName>Altman's</orgName> or <orgName>Lord and Taylor's</orgName>, but it was
                usually somebody else.</p>
            <p>This year, Holden's Christmas vacation from Pencey Prep broke at the same time as
                    <persName>Sally Hayes'</persName> from the <orgName>Mary A. Woodruff School for
                    Girls ("Special Attention to Those Interested in Dramatics")</orgName>. On
                vacation from Mary A. Woodruff, Sally usually went hatless and wore her new
                    <orig>silverblu</orig><corr>silver-blue</corr> muskrat coat. While riding in
                Fifth Avenue buses, boys who knew Sally often thought they saw her walking past
                Saks' or Altman's or Lord and Taylor's. It was usually somebody else.</p>
            <p>As soon as Holden got into <placeName>New York</placeName>, he took a cab home,
                dropped his <ref>Gladstone</ref><note>A small, leather suitcase, often made of stiff
                    material. Unlike most suitcases, it is deeper than it is long.</note> in the
                foyer, kissed his mother, lumped his hat and coat into a convenient chair, and
                    <orig>dialled</orig><corr>dialed</corr> Sally's number.</p>
            <p>"Hey!" he said into the <ref>mouthpiece</ref><note>The most common type of phone in
                    the 1940s was the rotary phone, which had its ear and mouth pieces connected,
                    which was then tethered to the rest of the telephone via a wire.</note>.
                "Sally?"</p>
            <p>"Yes. Who's that?"</p>
            <p>"Holden Caulfield. How are ya?"</p>
            <p>"Holden! I'm fine! How are you?"</p>
            <p>"Swell," said Holden. "Listen. <ref>How are ya, anyway? I mean how's
                    school?"</ref><note>Within around five or ten seconds of dialogue, Holden is
                    already repeating himself in extremely apparent ways. While this may seem like
                    an oversight on Salinger's part, it is most certainly not. It could be construed
                    as Holden having a simple vocabulary, or generally just being uninterested in
                    whatever Sally's answer was. However, I believe the repetition of "How are ya',"
                    and all other phrases that Holden repeats frequently can indicate his tepidness.
                    I would infer that Holden's brain is actually moving extremely quickly, and his
                    constant repetitions are a physical sign that the thoughts in his mind are
                    overtaking his ability to hold a proper conversation. We can relate to Holden in
                    this way, as he seems to struggle with expressing his thoughts and feelings
                    through his words and actions. This sentiment is studied more throughout the
                    entirety of the novel.</note></p>
            <p>"Fine," said Sally. "I mean-you know."</p>
            <p>"Swell," said Holden. "Well, <ref>listen.</ref><note>Holden is obsessed with getting
                    people to "listen" to him, though in the novel and his story that rarely
                    happens. In the longer of the two works, the only time when Holden is truly
                    listened to is by an adult friend of his, who later makes sexual advances on
                    him. Holden's anxiety and fears of the adult world are very real, and the only
                    person who truly listens has alterior motives. Plus, to say that the man 'truly'
                    listens may be an overstatement, as he could just be agreeing with Holden to
                    further his own wishes.</note> What are you doing tonight?"</p>
            <p>Holden took her to the <placeName>Wedgwood Room</placeName> that night, and they both
                dressed, Sally wearing her new turquoise job. They danced a lot. Holden's style was
                long, slow side steps back and forth, as though he were <ref>dancing over an open
                    manhole</ref><note>Holden's style of dancing can tell us a lot about his
                    personality. It seems very clear that Salinger intended this line to tell us
                    more about Holden than just his dancing abilities, or lack thereof. He uses this
                    statement to tell us that Holden is actually very careful of what he views as
                    impending dangers. In this case, the danger could be a fear of whether Sally
                    truly enjoys his company or not.</note>. They danced cheek to cheek, and when
                their faces got sticky from contact, <ref>neither of them minded</ref><note>It is
                    important to note that unlike the novel, this short story is in omniscient third
                    person, meaning that the narrator has full knowledge of how Sally feels, and
                    Holden does not. Unlike the book, we cannot assume that Holden understands
                    everything that the narrator says. This creates a large difference between the
                    two stories, as the novel is somewhat defined by Holden's unique narration
                    style.</note>. It was a long time between vacations.</p>
            <p>They made a wonderful thing out of the taxi ride home. Twice, when the cab stopped
                short in traffic, Holden fell off the seat.</p>
            <p>"I love you," he swore to Sally, removing his mouth from hers.</p>
            <p>"Oh, darling, I love you, too," Sally said, and added, <ref>less
                    passionately</ref><note>While it's not said exactly how Holden feels, by saying
                    that Sally is less passionate than he is, it sets up that Holden thinks more of
                    Sally than she does of him. This can extend past their love lives, as it seems
                    like Holden over-thinks a lot of things when compared to his peers.</note>,
                "Promise me you'll let your hair grow out. Crew cuts are corny."</p>
            <p>The next day was a Thursday and Holden took Sally to the matinee of "O Mistress
                Mine," which neither of them had seen. During the first intermission, they smoked in
                the lobby and vehemently agreed with each other that the Lunts were
                    <orig>marvellous</orig><corr>marvelous</corr>. George Harrison, of Andover, also
                was smoking in the lobby and he recognized Sally, as she hoped he would. They had
                been introduced once at a party and had never seen each other since. Now, in the
                loby at the Empire, they greeted each other with the gusto of two who might have
                taken baths together as small children. Sally asked George if he didn't think the
                show was <orig>marvellous</orig><corr>marvelous</corr>. George gave himself some
                room for his reply, bearing down on the foot of the woman behind him. He said that
                the play itself certainly was no masterpiece, but that the Lunts, of course, were
                absolute angels.</p>
            <p>"Angels," Holden thought. "Angels. For Chrissake. Angels."</p>
            <p>After the matinee, Sally told Holden that she had a
                    <orig>marvellous</orig><corr>marvelous</corr> idea. "Let's go ice skating at
                    <placeName>Radio City</placeName> tonight."</p>
            <p>"All right," Holden said. "Sure."</p>
            <p>"Do you mean it?" Sally said. "Don't just say it unless you mean it. I mean I
                don't give a darn, one way or the other."</p>
            <p>"No," said Holden. Let's go. It might be fun."</p>

            <p>Sally and Holden were both terrible ice skaters. Sally's ankles had a painful,
                unbecoming way of collapsing toward each other and Holden's weren't much better.
                That night there were at least a hundred people who had nothing better to do than
                watch the skaters.</p>
            <p>"Let's get a table and have a drink," Holden suggested suddenly.</p>
            <p>"That's the most <orig>marvellous</orig><corr>marvelous</corr> idea I've heard all
                day," Sally said.</p>
            <p>They removed their skates and sat down at a table in the warm inside lounge. Sally
                took off her red woollen mittens. Holden began to light matches. He let them burn
                down till he couldn't hold them, then he dropped what was left into an ashtray.</p>
            <p>"Look," Sally said, "I have to know-are you or aren't you going to help me trim the
                tree Christmas Eve?"</p>
            <p>"Sure," said Holden, without enthusiasm.</p>
            <p>"I mean I have to know," Sally said. </p>
            <p>Holden suddenly stopped lighting matches. He leaned forward over the table. "Sally,
                did you ever get fed up? I mean did you ever get scared that everything was gonna go
                lousy unless you did something?"</p>
            <p>"Sure," Sally said.</p>
            <p>"Do you like school?" Holden inquired.</p>
            <p>"It's a terrific bore."</p>
            <p>"Do you hate it, I mean?"</p>
            <p>"Well, I don't hate it."</p>
            <p>"Well, I hate it," said Holden. "Boy, do I hate it! But it isn't just that.
                It's everything. I hate living in New York. I hate Fifth Avenue buses and Madison
                Avenue buses and getting out at the center doors. I hate the Seventy-second Street
                movie, with those fake clouds on the ceiling, and being introduced to guys like
                George Harrison, and going down in elevators when you wanna go out, and guys fitting
                your pants all the time at Brooks." His voice got more excited. "Stuff like that.
                Know what I mean? You know something? You're the only reason I came home this
                vacation."</p>
            <p><ref>"You're sweet," said Sally, wishing he'd change the subject.</ref><note>Up until
                    this point in their dialogue, it would seem as if Sally is listening. Despite
                    this, the third-person omniscient narrator tells us that she wishes he would
                    stop speaking like this. While Holden doesn't know it for sure, his suspicions
                    and worries are true: Sally doesn't really care about the things that are
                    troubling him. As you can imagine, the thought that people are feigning interest
                    most likely plagues Holden's mind, allowing it to sink deeper into his
                    despair.</note></p>
            <p>"Boy, I hate school! You oughta go to a boys' school sometime. All you do is study,
                and make believe you give a damn if the football team wins, and talk about
                    <ref>girls and clothes and liquor</ref><note>Note here that Holden tells us that
                    his actions quite frequently lie aout what he truly feels inside. We can trust
                    this statement because it is contained within a mental breakdown, when he
                    doesn't have the capability to lie to Sally, or the reader. When I say that he
                    lies, I mean that what he says about disliking talking about "girls and clothes
                    and liqour" is the truth. Despite this, throughout the novel and this story, he
                    is seen acting in complete opposite to these values. He fools around with Sally
                    in the taxi, and in the novel refers to himself as a "pretty sexual guy". While
                    the narrator in the short story is not Holden, they bear a striking resemblence
                    in terms of world views and their voice. They both take great care in commenting
                    on people's style, like Holden's chesterfield coat or red hunting cap, because
                    he believes that people care about that, and will enjoy reading about them.
                    Lastly, throughout the novel he pretends to be enamoured by liquor and other
                    things indicative of maturity, like smoking cigarettes. In this scene for
                    example, Holden fidgets with cigarettes, lighting them over and over, but never
                    actually smoking. We can view these quasi-lies as Holden attempting to dip his
                    foot into the pool that he sees as 'the adult world'. In this conversation, he
                    admits to Sally that he doesn't like the temperature of the water, so to
                    speak.</note>, and-"</p>
            <p>"Now, listen," Sally interrupted. "Lot's of boys get more out of school than
                that."</p>
            <p><ref>"I agree," said Holden</ref><note>Holden takes great care to make sure Sally
                    doesn't think he disagrees with her, in what seems like a desperate attempt to
                    hold on to her attention.</note>. "But that's all I get out of it. See?
                That's what I mean. I don't get anything out of anything. I'm in bad shape. I'm in
                lousy shape. <ref>Look, Sally.</ref><note>Another quick attempt to get Sally to
                    listen to him.</note> How would you like to just beat it? Here's my idea. I'll
                borrow Fred Halsey's car and tomorrow morning we'll drive up to <ref>Massachusetts
                    and Vermont and around there</ref><note>We can interpret his indecisiveness and
                    list of multiple places as him grasping at loose straws in his head. It seems to
                    me like he doesn't have a solid plan, which could emphasize his crowded,
                    confused head.</note>, see? It's beautiful. I mean it's wonderful up there,
                    <ref>honest to God</ref><note>Note here that Holden feels the need to swear to
                    God that he's telling Sally the truth, as if just the fact that he's being
                    honest will convicne her.</note>. We'll stay in these cabin camps and stuff like
                that until my money runs out. I have a hundred and twelve dollars with me. Then,
                when the money runs out, I'll get a job and we'll live somewhere a brook and stuff.
                Know what I mean? Honest to God, Sally, we'll have a swell time. Then, later on,
                we'll get married or something. <ref>Wuddaya say? C'mon! Wuddaya say? C'mon! Let's
                    do it, huh?</ref><note>More desperate repitition.</note>"</p>
            <p>"You can't just do something like that," Sally said.</p>
            <p>"Why not?" Holden asked <ref>shrilly</ref><note>By describing Holden's voice as
                    shrill, Salinger gives off the impression the Holden's vocie seems almost
                    childish to an outside perspective. Personally, when I think of something
                    shrill, I think of either an alarm bell, or a small child screaming in a
                    department store.</note>. "Why the hell not?"</p>
            <p>"Because you can't," Sally said. "You just can't, that's all. Supposing your money
                ran out and you didn't get a job-then what?"</p>
            <p>"<ref>I'd get a job</ref><note>Holden is so desperate for mental salvation that he
                    completely denounces the idea that his plan is unrealsitc, or has huge
                    flaws.</note>. Don't worry about that. You don't have to worry about that part
                of it. What's the matter? Don't you wanna go with me?"</p>
            <p>"It isn't that," Sally said. "It's not that at all. Holden, we'll have lots of time
                to do those things-all those things. After you go to college and we get
                married and all. There'll be oodles or <orig>marvellous</orig><corr>marvelous</corr>
                places to go."</p>
            <p>"No, there wouldn't be," Holden said. "It'd be entirely different."</p>
            <p>Sally looked at him, he had contradicted her so quietly.</p>
            <p><ref>"It wouldn't be the same at all. We'd have to go downstairs in elevators with
                    suitcases and stuff. We'd have to call up everyone and tell 'em goodbye and send
                    'em postcards. And I'd have to work at my father's and ride in Madison Avenue
                    buses and read newspapers. We'd have to go to the Seventy-second Street all the
                    time and see newsreels. Newsreels! There's always a dumb horse race and some
                    dame breaking a bottle over a ship. You don't see what I mean at
                    all."</ref><note>This small monologue from Holden is truly heartbreaking. This
                    is the heart of the short story, and sums up Holden's troubles in the novel as
                    well. What Holden truly fears is becoming an adult. He believes that after you
                    cross the threshold into maturity, you lose all sense of individuality. Holden
                    feels as if he will be forced to accept the world he was born into, full of ties
                    and suitcases and newspapers. He doesn't want to do all the things that he sees
                    adults do, as he fears that they are being forced to do them. To Holden, the
                    industrialized, professional world seems unsightly. I'm sure you would be
                    hard-pressed to find that you were never scared of adulthood as a child, or even
                    now. This fear, combined with Holden's general anxiety and depression, take over
                    his brain. They send him in circles, around a merry-go-round which seemingly
                    never ends, as he grasps for people's attention. This metaphor is explorered
                    further in the novel with Pheobe Caulfield. Pheobe, Holden's sister, rides a
                    merry-go-round at the end of the novel as Holden watches her. He sees her
                    grasping for this ring, and comments that he wishes he could ask her to be
                    careful. Instead, he says that "The thing with kids is, if they want to grab the
                    gold ring, you have to let them do it, and not say anything. If they fall off,
                    the fall off, but it's bad if you say anything to them." This can be seen as
                    Holden accepting that kids need to grow up of their own volition, yet he can't
                    seem to fall off the nerry-go-round entirely. But he does see it stop spinning,
                    which I personally see as him gaining the hope that his own thought circles may
                    stop someday.</note></p>
            <p>"Maybe I don't. Maybe you don't either," Sally said.</p>
            <p>Holden stood up, with his skates swung over one shoulder. "You give me a royal pain,"
                he announced quite dispassionately.</p>

            <p>A LITTLE after midnight, Holden and a fat, unattractive boy named <persName>Carl
                    Luce</persName> sat at the Wadsworth Bar, drinking Scotch-and-sodas and eating
                potato chips. Carl was at Pencey Prep, too, and led his class.</p>
            <p>"Hey, Carl," Holden said, "you're one of these <ref>intellectual
                    guys</ref><note>Holden complements Carl by calling him intellectualy, yet asks a
                    question which has much more to do with wisdom than intellect. Once again,
                    Holden is looking for any way possible to get people to listen to him.</note>.
                Tell me something. Supposing you were fed up. Supposing you were going stark,
                starking mad. Supposing you wanted to quit school and everything and get the hell
                out of New York. What would you do?"</p>
            <p>"Drink up," Carl said. "The hell with that."</p>
            <p>"No, I'm serious," Holden <ref>pleaded</ref><note>Unlike the cryptic code that Holden
                    usually hides his true thoughts in, the narrator tells us he is pleading,
                    implying that he has started to falter in hiding his thoughts from his
                    audience.</note>.</p>
            <p><ref>"You've always got a bug," Carl said, and got up and left.</ref><note>Carl is
                    quite blunt here, and the next paragraph opening with Holden drinking a lot is
                    jarring, and can show us how hard Carl's denial to listen really affected
                    him.</note></p>
            <p>Holden went on drinking. He drank up nine dollars' worth Scotch-and-sodas and at 2
                A.M made his way from the bar into the little anteroom, where there was a telephone.
                He <orig>dialled</orig><corr>dialed</corr> three numbers before he got the proper
                one.</p>
            <p>"Hullo!" Holden shouted into the phone.</p>
            <p>"Who is this?" inquired a cold voice.</p>
            <p>"This is me, Holden Caulfield. Can I speak to Sally, please?"</p>
            <p>"Sally's asleep. This is Mrs. Hayes. Why are you calling up at this hour,
                Holden?"</p>
            <p>"Wanna talk Sally, Mis' Hayes. Very 'portant. Put her on."</p>
            <p>"Sally's asleep, Holden. Call tomorrow. Good night."</p>
            <p>"Wake 'er up. Wake 'er up, huh? Wake 'er up, Mis' Hayes."</p>
            <p>"Holden," Sally said, from the other end of the wire. "This is me. What's the
                idea?"</p>
            <p>"Sally? Sally, that you?"</p>
            <p>"Yes. You're drunk."</p>
            <p><ref>"Sally, I'll come over Christmas Eve. Trim the tree for ya. Huh? Wuddaya say?
                    Huh?"</ref><note>Holden bargains with her. We can infer that Holden calls her to
                    say he'll trim the tree because he believes that it will be another oppotrunity
                    for her to listen to him.</note></p>
            <p>"Yes. Go to bed now. Where are you? Who's with you?"</p>
            <p>"I'll trim the tree for ya. Huh? Wuddaya say? Huh?"</p>
            <p>"Yes. Go to bed now. Where are you? Who's with you?"</p>
            <p>"I'll trim the tree for ya. Huh? O.K.?"</p>
            <p>"Yes! Good night!"</p>
            <p>"G'night. G'night, Sally baby. Sally sweetheart, darling."</p>
            <p>Holden hung up and stood by the phone for nearly fifteen minutes. Then he put another
                nickel in the slot and dialled the same number again.</p>
            <p>"Hullo!" he yelled into the mouthpiece. "Speak to Sally, please."</p>
            <p>There was a sharp click as the phone was hung up, and Holden hung up, too. He stood
                swaying for a moment. Then he made his way into the men's room and filled one of the
                washbowls with cold water. He immersed his head to the ears, after which he walked,
                dripping, to the radiator and sat down on it. He sat there counting the squares in
                the tile floor while the water dripped down his face and the back of his neck,
                soaking his shirt collar and necktie. Twenty minutes later the barroom piano player
                came in to comb his wavy hair.</p>
            <p>"Hiya, boy!" Holden greeted him from the radiator. "I'm on the hot seat. They pulled
                the switch on me. I'm getting fried."</p>
            <p>The piano player smiled.</p>
            <p>"Boy, you can play!" Holden said. "You really can play that piano. You oughta go on
                the radio. You know that? You're damn good, boy."</p>
            <p>"You wanna towel, fella?" asked the piano player.</p>
            <p>"Not me," said Holden.</p>
            <p>"Why don't you go home, kid?"</p>
            <p>Holden shook his head. "Not me," he said. "Not me."</p>
            <p>The piano player shrugged and replaced the lady's comb in his inside pocket. When he
                left the room, <ref>Holden stood up from the radiator and blinked several times to
                    let the tears out of his eyes</ref><note>It is never stated that Holden started
                    crying, so it seems quite sudden. However, in further analysis of the rest of
                    the story, it seems clear why he's crying. Not even the piano player will listen
                    to him.</note>. Then he went to the checkroom. He put on his chesterfield
                without buttoning it and jammed his hat on the back of his soaking-wet head.</p>
            <p>His teeth chattering violently, <ref>Holden stood on the corner and waited for a
                    Madison Avenue bus. It was a long wait.</ref><note>In the end, Holden has to
                    wait for and ride on a Madison Avenue bus. I believe that Salinger ended the
                    story with this statement rather than Holden crying for a very specific reason.
                    Salinger was very aware of innocence, the loss of it, and many young men's wish
                    to retain it. However, after his experience as a soldier, he seemed to believe
                    that innocence is a priviledge which the world will never allow you to have.
                    Just as J.D Saligner's time in the war ripped his innocence from him, Holden's
                    innocence is similarly riped from him, and he is forced to take the buses he
                    hates so much, and try meekly to be okay with that.</note></p>


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Title

Publication Information

ON vacation from Pencey Preparatory School for Boys ("An Instructor for Every Ten Students"), Holden Morrisey Caulfield usually wore his chesterfield01 A long overcoat, popular in the 19th and 20th century. and a hat with a cutting edge at the "V" in the crown. While riding in Fifth Avenue buses, girls who knew Holden often thought they saw him walking past Saks' or Altman's or Lord and Taylor's, but it was usually somebody else.

This year, Holden's Christmas vacation from Pencey Prep broke at the same time as Sally Hayes' from the Mary A. Woodruff School for Girls ("Special Attention to Those Interested in Dramatics"). On vacation from Mary A. Woodruff, Sally usually went hatless and wore her new silverblu silver-blue muskrat coat. While riding in Fifth Avenue buses, boys who knew Sally often thought they saw her walking past Saks' or Altman's or Lord and Taylor's. It was usually somebody else.

As soon as Holden got into New York, he took a cab home, dropped his Gladstone02 A small, leather suitcase, often made of stiff material. Unlike most suitcases, it is deeper than it is long. in the foyer, kissed his mother, lumped his hat and coat into a convenient chair, and dialled dialed Sally's number.

"Hey!" he said into the mouthpiece03 The most common type of phone in the 1940s was the rotary phone, which had its ear and mouth pieces connected, which was then tethered to the rest of the telephone via a wire.. "Sally?"

"Yes. Who's that?"

"Holden Caulfield. How are ya?"

"Holden! I'm fine! How are you?"

"Swell," said Holden. "Listen. How are ya, anyway? I mean how's school?"04 Within around five or ten seconds of dialogue, Holden is already repeating himself in extremely apparent ways. While this may seem like an oversight on Salinger's part, it is most certainly not. It could be construed as Holden having a simple vocabulary, or generally just being uninterested in whatever Sally's answer was. However, I believe the repetition of "How are ya'," and all other phrases that Holden repeats frequently can indicate his tepidness. I would infer that Holden's brain is actually moving extremely quickly, and his constant repetitions are a physical sign that the thoughts in his mind are overtaking his ability to hold a proper conversation. We can relate to Holden in this way, as he seems to struggle with expressing his thoughts and feelings through his words and actions. This sentiment is studied more throughout the entirety of the novel.

"Fine," said Sally. "I mean-you know."

"Swell," said Holden. "Well, listen.05 Holden is obsessed with getting people to "listen" to him, though in the novel and his story that rarely happens. In the longer of the two works, the only time when Holden is truly listened to is by an adult friend of his, who later makes sexual advances on him. Holden's anxiety and fears of the adult world are very real, and the only person who truly listens has alterior motives. Plus, to say that the man 'truly' listens may be an overstatement, as he could just be agreeing with Holden to further his own wishes. What are you doing tonight?"

Holden took her to the Wedgwood Room that night, and they both dressed, Sally wearing her new turquoise job. They danced a lot. Holden's style was long, slow side steps back and forth, as though he were dancing over an open manhole06 Holden's style of dancing can tell us a lot about his personality. It seems very clear that Salinger intended this line to tell us more about Holden than just his dancing abilities, or lack thereof. He uses this statement to tell us that Holden is actually very careful of what he views as impending dangers. In this case, the danger could be a fear of whether Sally truly enjoys his company or not.. They danced cheek to cheek, and when their faces got sticky from contact, neither of them minded07 It is important to note that unlike the novel, this short story is in omniscient third person, meaning that the narrator has full knowledge of how Sally feels, and Holden does not. Unlike the book, we cannot assume that Holden understands everything that the narrator says. This creates a large difference between the two stories, as the novel is somewhat defined by Holden's unique narration style.. It was a long time between vacations.

They made a wonderful thing out of the taxi ride home. Twice, when the cab stopped short in traffic, Holden fell off the seat.

"I love you," he swore to Sally, removing his mouth from hers.

"Oh, darling, I love you, too," Sally said, and added, less passionately08 While it's not said exactly how Holden feels, by saying that Sally is less passionate than he is, it sets up that Holden thinks more of Sally than she does of him. This can extend past their love lives, as it seems like Holden over-thinks a lot of things when compared to his peers., "Promise me you'll let your hair grow out. Crew cuts are corny."

The next day was a Thursday and Holden took Sally to the matinee of "O Mistress Mine," which neither of them had seen. During the first intermission, they smoked in the lobby and vehemently agreed with each other that the Lunts were marvellous marvelous. George Harrison, of Andover, also was smoking in the lobby and he recognized Sally, as she hoped he would. They had been introduced once at a party and had never seen each other since. Now, in the loby at the Empire, they greeted each other with the gusto of two who might have taken baths together as small children. Sally asked George if he didn't think the show was marvellous marvelous. George gave himself some room for his reply, bearing down on the foot of the woman behind him. He said that the play itself certainly was no masterpiece, but that the Lunts, of course, were absolute angels.

"Angels," Holden thought. "Angels. For Chrissake. Angels."

After the matinee, Sally told Holden that she had a marvellous marvelous idea. "Let's go ice skating at Radio City tonight."

"All right," Holden said. "Sure."

"Do you mean it?" Sally said. "Don't just say it unless you mean it. I mean I don't give a darn, one way or the other."

"No," said Holden. Let's go. It might be fun."

Sally and Holden were both terrible ice skaters. Sally's ankles had a painful, unbecoming way of collapsing toward each other and Holden's weren't much better. That night there were at least a hundred people who had nothing better to do than watch the skaters.

"Let's get a table and have a drink," Holden suggested suddenly.

"That's the most marvellous marvelous idea I've heard all day," Sally said.

They removed their skates and sat down at a table in the warm inside lounge. Sally took off her red woollen mittens. Holden began to light matches. He let them burn down till he couldn't hold them, then he dropped what was left into an ashtray.

"Look," Sally said, "I have to know-are you or aren't you going to help me trim the tree Christmas Eve?"

"Sure," said Holden, without enthusiasm.

"I mean I have to know," Sally said.

Holden suddenly stopped lighting matches. He leaned forward over the table. "Sally, did you ever get fed up? I mean did you ever get scared that everything was gonna go lousy unless you did something?"

"Sure," Sally said.

"Do you like school?" Holden inquired.

"It's a terrific bore."

"Do you hate it, I mean?"

"Well, I don't hate it."

"Well, I hate it," said Holden. "Boy, do I hate it! But it isn't just that. It's everything. I hate living in New York. I hate Fifth Avenue buses and Madison Avenue buses and getting out at the center doors. I hate the Seventy-second Street movie, with those fake clouds on the ceiling, and being introduced to guys like George Harrison, and going down in elevators when you wanna go out, and guys fitting your pants all the time at Brooks." His voice got more excited. "Stuff like that. Know what I mean? You know something? You're the only reason I came home this vacation."

"You're sweet," said Sally, wishing he'd change the subject.09 Up until this point in their dialogue, it would seem as if Sally is listening. Despite this, the third-person omniscient narrator tells us that she wishes he would stop speaking like this. While Holden doesn't know it for sure, his suspicions and worries are true: Sally doesn't really care about the things that are troubling him. As you can imagine, the thought that people are feigning interest most likely plagues Holden's mind, allowing it to sink deeper into his despair.

"Boy, I hate school! You oughta go to a boys' school sometime. All you do is study, and make believe you give a damn if the football team wins, and talk about girls and clothes and liquor10 Note here that Holden tells us that his actions quite frequently lie aout what he truly feels inside. We can trust this statement because it is contained within a mental breakdown, when he doesn't have the capability to lie to Sally, or the reader. When I say that he lies, I mean that what he says about disliking talking about "girls and clothes and liqour" is the truth. Despite this, throughout the novel and this story, he is seen acting in complete opposite to these values. He fools around with Sally in the taxi, and in the novel refers to himself as a "pretty sexual guy". While the narrator in the short story is not Holden, they bear a striking resemblence in terms of world views and their voice. They both take great care in commenting on people's style, like Holden's chesterfield coat or red hunting cap, because he believes that people care about that, and will enjoy reading about them. Lastly, throughout the novel he pretends to be enamoured by liquor and other things indicative of maturity, like smoking cigarettes. In this scene for example, Holden fidgets with cigarettes, lighting them over and over, but never actually smoking. We can view these quasi-lies as Holden attempting to dip his foot into the pool that he sees as 'the adult world'. In this conversation, he admits to Sally that he doesn't like the temperature of the water, so to speak., and-"

"Now, listen," Sally interrupted. "Lot's of boys get more out of school than that."

"I agree," said Holden11 Holden takes great care to make sure Sally doesn't think he disagrees with her, in what seems like a desperate attempt to hold on to her attention.. "But that's all I get out of it. See? That's what I mean. I don't get anything out of anything. I'm in bad shape. I'm in lousy shape. Look, Sally.12 Another quick attempt to get Sally to listen to him. How would you like to just beat it? Here's my idea. I'll borrow Fred Halsey's car and tomorrow morning we'll drive up to Massachusetts and Vermont and around there13 We can interpret his indecisiveness and list of multiple places as him grasping at loose straws in his head. It seems to me like he doesn't have a solid plan, which could emphasize his crowded, confused head., see? It's beautiful. I mean it's wonderful up there, honest to God14 Note here that Holden feels the need to swear to God that he's telling Sally the truth, as if just the fact that he's being honest will convicne her.. We'll stay in these cabin camps and stuff like that until my money runs out. I have a hundred and twelve dollars with me. Then, when the money runs out, I'll get a job and we'll live somewhere a brook and stuff. Know what I mean? Honest to God, Sally, we'll have a swell time. Then, later on, we'll get married or something. Wuddaya say? C'mon! Wuddaya say? C'mon! Let's do it, huh?15 More desperate repitition."

"You can't just do something like that," Sally said.

"Why not?" Holden asked shrilly16 By describing Holden's voice as shrill, Salinger gives off the impression the Holden's vocie seems almost childish to an outside perspective. Personally, when I think of something shrill, I think of either an alarm bell, or a small child screaming in a department store.. "Why the hell not?"

"Because you can't," Sally said. "You just can't, that's all. Supposing your money ran out and you didn't get a job-then what?"

"I'd get a job17 Holden is so desperate for mental salvation that he completely denounces the idea that his plan is unrealsitc, or has huge flaws.. Don't worry about that. You don't have to worry about that part of it. What's the matter? Don't you wanna go with me?"

"It isn't that," Sally said. "It's not that at all. Holden, we'll have lots of time to do those things-all those things. After you go to college and we get married and all. There'll be oodles or marvellous marvelous places to go."

"No, there wouldn't be," Holden said. "It'd be entirely different."

Sally looked at him, he had contradicted her so quietly.

"It wouldn't be the same at all. We'd have to go downstairs in elevators with suitcases and stuff. We'd have to call up everyone and tell 'em goodbye and send 'em postcards. And I'd have to work at my father's and ride in Madison Avenue buses and read newspapers. We'd have to go to the Seventy-second Street all the time and see newsreels. Newsreels! There's always a dumb horse race and some dame breaking a bottle over a ship. You don't see what I mean at all."18 This small monologue from Holden is truly heartbreaking. This is the heart of the short story, and sums up Holden's troubles in the novel as well. What Holden truly fears is becoming an adult. He believes that after you cross the threshold into maturity, you lose all sense of individuality. Holden feels as if he will be forced to accept the world he was born into, full of ties and suitcases and newspapers. He doesn't want to do all the things that he sees adults do, as he fears that they are being forced to do them. To Holden, the industrialized, professional world seems unsightly. I'm sure you would be hard-pressed to find that you were never scared of adulthood as a child, or even now. This fear, combined with Holden's general anxiety and depression, take over his brain. They send him in circles, around a merry-go-round which seemingly never ends, as he grasps for people's attention. This metaphor is explorered further in the novel with Pheobe Caulfield. Pheobe, Holden's sister, rides a merry-go-round at the end of the novel as Holden watches her. He sees her grasping for this ring, and comments that he wishes he could ask her to be careful. Instead, he says that "The thing with kids is, if they want to grab the gold ring, you have to let them do it, and not say anything. If they fall off, the fall off, but it's bad if you say anything to them." This can be seen as Holden accepting that kids need to grow up of their own volition, yet he can't seem to fall off the nerry-go-round entirely. But he does see it stop spinning, which I personally see as him gaining the hope that his own thought circles may stop someday.

"Maybe I don't. Maybe you don't either," Sally said.

Holden stood up, with his skates swung over one shoulder. "You give me a royal pain," he announced quite dispassionately.

A LITTLE after midnight, Holden and a fat, unattractive boy named Carl Luce sat at the Wadsworth Bar, drinking Scotch-and-sodas and eating potato chips. Carl was at Pencey Prep, too, and led his class.

"Hey, Carl," Holden said, "you're one of these intellectual guys19 Holden complements Carl by calling him intellectualy, yet asks a question which has much more to do with wisdom than intellect. Once again, Holden is looking for any way possible to get people to listen to him.. Tell me something. Supposing you were fed up. Supposing you were going stark, starking mad. Supposing you wanted to quit school and everything and get the hell out of New York. What would you do?"

"Drink up," Carl said. "The hell with that."

"No, I'm serious," Holden pleaded20 Unlike the cryptic code that Holden usually hides his true thoughts in, the narrator tells us he is pleading, implying that he has started to falter in hiding his thoughts from his audience..

"You've always got a bug," Carl said, and got up and left.21 Carl is quite blunt here, and the next paragraph opening with Holden drinking a lot is jarring, and can show us how hard Carl's denial to listen really affected him.

Holden went on drinking. He drank up nine dollars' worth Scotch-and-sodas and at 2 A.M made his way from the bar into the little anteroom, where there was a telephone. He dialled dialed three numbers before he got the proper one.

"Hullo!" Holden shouted into the phone.

"Who is this?" inquired a cold voice.

"This is me, Holden Caulfield. Can I speak to Sally, please?"

"Sally's asleep. This is Mrs. Hayes. Why are you calling up at this hour, Holden?"

"Wanna talk Sally, Mis' Hayes. Very 'portant. Put her on."

"Sally's asleep, Holden. Call tomorrow. Good night."

"Wake 'er up. Wake 'er up, huh? Wake 'er up, Mis' Hayes."

"Holden," Sally said, from the other end of the wire. "This is me. What's the idea?"

"Sally? Sally, that you?"

"Yes. You're drunk."

"Sally, I'll come over Christmas Eve. Trim the tree for ya. Huh? Wuddaya say? Huh?"22 Holden bargains with her. We can infer that Holden calls her to say he'll trim the tree because he believes that it will be another oppotrunity for her to listen to him.

"Yes. Go to bed now. Where are you? Who's with you?"

"I'll trim the tree for ya. Huh? Wuddaya say? Huh?"

"Yes. Go to bed now. Where are you? Who's with you?"

"I'll trim the tree for ya. Huh? O.K.?"

"Yes! Good night!"

"G'night. G'night, Sally baby. Sally sweetheart, darling."

Holden hung up and stood by the phone for nearly fifteen minutes. Then he put another nickel in the slot and dialled the same number again.

"Hullo!" he yelled into the mouthpiece. "Speak to Sally, please."

There was a sharp click as the phone was hung up, and Holden hung up, too. He stood swaying for a moment. Then he made his way into the men's room and filled one of the washbowls with cold water. He immersed his head to the ears, after which he walked, dripping, to the radiator and sat down on it. He sat there counting the squares in the tile floor while the water dripped down his face and the back of his neck, soaking his shirt collar and necktie. Twenty minutes later the barroom piano player came in to comb his wavy hair.

"Hiya, boy!" Holden greeted him from the radiator. "I'm on the hot seat. They pulled the switch on me. I'm getting fried."

The piano player smiled.

"Boy, you can play!" Holden said. "You really can play that piano. You oughta go on the radio. You know that? You're damn good, boy."

"You wanna towel, fella?" asked the piano player.

"Not me," said Holden.

"Why don't you go home, kid?"

Holden shook his head. "Not me," he said. "Not me."

The piano player shrugged and replaced the lady's comb in his inside pocket. When he left the room, Holden stood up from the radiator and blinked several times to let the tears out of his eyes23 It is never stated that Holden started crying, so it seems quite sudden. However, in further analysis of the rest of the story, it seems clear why he's crying. Not even the piano player will listen to him.. Then he went to the checkroom. He put on his chesterfield without buttoning it and jammed his hat on the back of his soaking-wet head.

His teeth chattering violently, Holden stood on the corner and waited for a Madison Avenue bus. It was a long wait.24 In the end, Holden has to wait for and ride on a Madison Avenue bus. I believe that Salinger ended the story with this statement rather than Holden crying for a very specific reason. Salinger was very aware of innocence, the loss of it, and many young men's wish to retain it. However, after his experience as a soldier, he seemed to believe that innocence is a priviledge which the world will never allow you to have. Just as J.D Saligner's time in the war ripped his innocence from him, Holden's innocence is similarly riped from him, and he is forced to take the buses he hates so much, and try meekly to be okay with that.

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Holden Morrisey Caulfield Sally Hayes George Harrison Carl Luce Pencey Preparatory School for Boys Mary A. Woodruff School for Girls Saks Altman Lord and Taylor

ON vacation from Pencey Preparatory School for Boys ("An Instructor for Every Ten Students"), Holden Morrisey Caulfield usually wore his chesterfield A long overcoat, popular in the 19th and 20th century. and a hat with a cutting edge at the "V" in the crown. While riding in Fifth Avenue buses, girls who knew Holden often thought they saw him walking past Saks' or Altman's or Lord and Taylor's, but it was usually somebody else.

This year, Holden's Christmas vacation from Pencey Prep broke at the same time as Sally Hayes' from the Mary A. Woodruff School for Girls ("Special Attention to Those Interested in Dramatics"). On vacation from Mary A. Woodruff, Sally usually went hatless and wore her new silverblu silver-blue muskrat coat. While riding in Fifth Avenue buses, boys who knew Sally often thought they saw her walking past Saks' or Altman's or Lord and Taylor's. It was usually somebody else.

As soon as Holden got into New York, he took a cab home, dropped his Gladstone A small, leather suitcase, often made of stiff material. Unlike most suitcases, it is deeper than it is long. in the foyer, kissed his mother, lumped his hat and coat into a convenient chair, and dialled dialed Sally's number.

"Hey!" he said into the mouthpiece The most common type of phone in the 1940s was the rotary phone, which had its ear and mouth pieces connected, which was then tethered to the rest of the telephone via a wire.. "Sally?"

"Yes. Who's that?"

"Holden Caulfield. How are ya?"

"Holden! I'm fine! How are you?"

"Swell," said Holden. "Listen. How are ya, anyway? I mean how's school?" Within around five or ten seconds of dialogue, Holden is already repeating himself in extremely apparent ways. While this may seem like an oversight on Salinger's part, it is most certainly not. It could be construed as Holden having a simple vocabulary, or generally just being uninterested in whatever Sally's answer was. However, I believe the repetition of "How are ya'," and all other phrases that Holden repeats frequently can indicate his tepidness. I would infer that Holden's brain is actually moving extremely quickly, and his constant repetitions are a physical sign that the thoughts in his mind are overtaking his ability to hold a proper conversation. We can relate to Holden in this way, as he seems to struggle with expressing his thoughts and feelings through his words and actions. This sentiment is studied more throughout the entirety of the novel.

"Fine," said Sally. "I mean-you know."

"Swell," said Holden. "Well, listen. Holden is obsessed with getting people to "listen" to him, though in the novel and his story that rarely happens. In the longer of the two works, the only time when Holden is truly listened to is by an adult friend of his, who later makes sexual advances on him. Holden's anxiety and fears of the adult world are very real, and the only person who truly listens has alterior motives. Plus, to say that the man 'truly' listens may be an overstatement, as he could just be agreeing with Holden to further his own wishes. What are you doing tonight?"

Holden took her to the Wedgwood Room that night, and they both dressed, Sally wearing her new turquoise job. They danced a lot. Holden's style was long, slow side steps back and forth, as though he were dancing over an open manhole Holden's style of dancing can tell us a lot about his personality. It seems very clear that Salinger intended this line to tell us more about Holden than just his dancing abilities, or lack thereof. He uses this statement to tell us that Holden is actually very careful of what he views as impending dangers. In this case, the danger could be a fear of whether Sally truly enjoys his company or not.. They danced cheek to cheek, and when their faces got sticky from contact, neither of them minded It is important to note that unlike the novel, this short story is in omniscient third person, meaning that the narrator has full knowledge of how Sally feels, and Holden does not. Unlike the book, we cannot assume that Holden understands everything that the narrator says. This creates a large difference between the two stories, as the novel is somewhat defined by Holden's unique narration style.. It was a long time between vacations.

They made a wonderful thing out of the taxi ride home. Twice, when the cab stopped short in traffic, Holden fell off the seat.

"I love you," he swore to Sally, removing his mouth from hers.

"Oh, darling, I love you, too," Sally said, and added, less passionately While it's not said exactly how Holden feels, by saying that Sally is less passionate than he is, it sets up that Holden thinks more of Sally than she does of him. This can extend past their love lives, as it seems like Holden over-thinks a lot of things when compared to his peers., "Promise me you'll let your hair grow out. Crew cuts are corny."

The next day was a Thursday and Holden took Sally to the matinee of "O Mistress Mine," which neither of them had seen. During the first intermission, they smoked in the lobby and vehemently agreed with each other that the Lunts were marvellous marvelous. George Harrison, of Andover, also was smoking in the lobby and he recognized Sally, as she hoped he would. They had been introduced once at a party and had never seen each other since. Now, in the loby at the Empire, they greeted each other with the gusto of two who might have taken baths together as small children. Sally asked George if he didn't think the show was marvellous marvelous. George gave himself some room for his reply, bearing down on the foot of the woman behind him. He said that the play itself certainly was no masterpiece, but that the Lunts, of course, were absolute angels.

"Angels," Holden thought. "Angels. For Chrissake. Angels."

After the matinee, Sally told Holden that she had a marvellous marvelous idea. "Let's go ice skating at Radio City tonight."

"All right," Holden said. "Sure."

"Do you mean it?" Sally said. "Don't just say it unless you mean it. I mean I don't give a darn, one way or the other."

"No," said Holden. Let's go. It might be fun."

Sally and Holden were both terrible ice skaters. Sally's ankles had a painful, unbecoming way of collapsing toward each other and Holden's weren't much better. That night there were at least a hundred people who had nothing better to do than watch the skaters.

"Let's get a table and have a drink," Holden suggested suddenly.

"That's the most marvellous marvelous idea I've heard all day," Sally said.

They removed their skates and sat down at a table in the warm inside lounge. Sally took off her red woollen mittens. Holden began to light matches. He let them burn down till he couldn't hold them, then he dropped what was left into an ashtray.

"Look," Sally said, "I have to know-are you or aren't you going to help me trim the tree Christmas Eve?"

"Sure," said Holden, without enthusiasm.

"I mean I have to know," Sally said.

Holden suddenly stopped lighting matches. He leaned forward over the table. "Sally, did you ever get fed up? I mean did you ever get scared that everything was gonna go lousy unless you did something?"

"Sure," Sally said.

"Do you like school?" Holden inquired.

"It's a terrific bore."

"Do you hate it, I mean?"

"Well, I don't hate it."

"Well, I hate it," said Holden. "Boy, do I hate it! But it isn't just that. It's everything. I hate living in New York. I hate Fifth Avenue buses and Madison Avenue buses and getting out at the center doors. I hate the Seventy-second Street movie, with those fake clouds on the ceiling, and being introduced to guys like George Harrison, and going down in elevators when you wanna go out, and guys fitting your pants all the time at Brooks." His voice got more excited. "Stuff like that. Know what I mean? You know something? You're the only reason I came home this vacation."

"You're sweet," said Sally, wishing he'd change the subject. Up until this point in their dialogue, it would seem as if Sally is listening. Despite this, the third-person omniscient narrator tells us that she wishes he would stop speaking like this. While Holden doesn't know it for sure, his suspicions and worries are true: Sally doesn't really care about the things that are troubling him. As you can imagine, the thought that people are feigning interest most likely plagues Holden's mind, allowing it to sink deeper into his despair.

"Boy, I hate school! You oughta go to a boys' school sometime. All you do is study, and make believe you give a damn if the football team wins, and talk about girls and clothes and liquor Note here that Holden tells us that his actions quite frequently lie aout what he truly feels inside. We can trust this statement because it is contained within a mental breakdown, when he doesn't have the capability to lie to Sally, or the reader. When I say that he lies, I mean that what he says about disliking talking about "girls and clothes and liqour" is the truth. Despite this, throughout the novel and this story, he is seen acting in complete opposite to these values. He fools around with Sally in the taxi, and in the novel refers to himself as a "pretty sexual guy". While the narrator in the short story is not Holden, they bear a striking resemblence in terms of world views and their voice. They both take great care in commenting on people's style, like Holden's chesterfield coat or red hunting cap, because he believes that people care about that, and will enjoy reading about them. Lastly, throughout the novel he pretends to be enamoured by liquor and other things indicative of maturity, like smoking cigarettes. In this scene for example, Holden fidgets with cigarettes, lighting them over and over, but never actually smoking. We can view these quasi-lies as Holden attempting to dip his foot into the pool that he sees as 'the adult world'. In this conversation, he admits to Sally that he doesn't like the temperature of the water, so to speak., and-"

"Now, listen," Sally interrupted. "Lot's of boys get more out of school than that."

"I agree," said Holden Holden takes great care to make sure Sally doesn't think he disagrees with her, in what seems like a desperate attempt to hold on to her attention.. "But that's all I get out of it. See? That's what I mean. I don't get anything out of anything. I'm in bad shape. I'm in lousy shape. Look, Sally. Another quick attempt to get Sally to listen to him. How would you like to just beat it? Here's my idea. I'll borrow Fred Halsey's car and tomorrow morning we'll drive up to Massachusetts and Vermont and around there We can interpret his indecisiveness and list of multiple places as him grasping at loose straws in his head. It seems to me like he doesn't have a solid plan, which could emphasize his crowded, confused head., see? It's beautiful. I mean it's wonderful up there, honest to God Note here that Holden feels the need to swear to God that he's telling Sally the truth, as if just the fact that he's being honest will convicne her.. We'll stay in these cabin camps and stuff like that until my money runs out. I have a hundred and twelve dollars with me. Then, when the money runs out, I'll get a job and we'll live somewhere a brook and stuff. Know what I mean? Honest to God, Sally, we'll have a swell time. Then, later on, we'll get married or something. Wuddaya say? C'mon! Wuddaya say? C'mon! Let's do it, huh? More desperate repitition."

"You can't just do something like that," Sally said.

"Why not?" Holden asked shrilly By describing Holden's voice as shrill, Salinger gives off the impression the Holden's vocie seems almost childish to an outside perspective. Personally, when I think of something shrill, I think of either an alarm bell, or a small child screaming in a department store.. "Why the hell not?"

"Because you can't," Sally said. "You just can't, that's all. Supposing your money ran out and you didn't get a job-then what?"

"I'd get a job Holden is so desperate for mental salvation that he completely denounces the idea that his plan is unrealsitc, or has huge flaws.. Don't worry about that. You don't have to worry about that part of it. What's the matter? Don't you wanna go with me?"

"It isn't that," Sally said. "It's not that at all. Holden, we'll have lots of time to do those things-all those things. After you go to college and we get married and all. There'll be oodles or marvellous marvelous places to go."

"No, there wouldn't be," Holden said. "It'd be entirely different."

Sally looked at him, he had contradicted her so quietly.

"It wouldn't be the same at all. We'd have to go downstairs in elevators with suitcases and stuff. We'd have to call up everyone and tell 'em goodbye and send 'em postcards. And I'd have to work at my father's and ride in Madison Avenue buses and read newspapers. We'd have to go to the Seventy-second Street all the time and see newsreels. Newsreels! There's always a dumb horse race and some dame breaking a bottle over a ship. You don't see what I mean at all." This small monologue from Holden is truly heartbreaking. This is the heart of the short story, and sums up Holden's troubles in the novel as well. What Holden truly fears is becoming an adult. He believes that after you cross the threshold into maturity, you lose all sense of individuality. Holden feels as if he will be forced to accept the world he was born into, full of ties and suitcases and newspapers. He doesn't want to do all the things that he sees adults do, as he fears that they are being forced to do them. To Holden, the industrialized, professional world seems unsightly. I'm sure you would be hard-pressed to find that you were never scared of adulthood as a child, or even now. This fear, combined with Holden's general anxiety and depression, take over his brain. They send him in circles, around a merry-go-round which seemingly never ends, as he grasps for people's attention. This metaphor is explorered further in the novel with Pheobe Caulfield. Pheobe, Holden's sister, rides a merry-go-round at the end of the novel as Holden watches her. He sees her grasping for this ring, and comments that he wishes he could ask her to be careful. Instead, he says that "The thing with kids is, if they want to grab the gold ring, you have to let them do it, and not say anything. If they fall off, the fall off, but it's bad if you say anything to them." This can be seen as Holden accepting that kids need to grow up of their own volition, yet he can't seem to fall off the nerry-go-round entirely. But he does see it stop spinning, which I personally see as him gaining the hope that his own thought circles may stop someday.

"Maybe I don't. Maybe you don't either," Sally said.

Holden stood up, with his skates swung over one shoulder. "You give me a royal pain," he announced quite dispassionately.

A LITTLE after midnight, Holden and a fat, unattractive boy named Carl Luce sat at the Wadsworth Bar, drinking Scotch-and-sodas and eating potato chips. Carl was at Pencey Prep, too, and led his class.

"Hey, Carl," Holden said, "you're one of these intellectual guys Holden complements Carl by calling him intellectualy, yet asks a question which has much more to do with wisdom than intellect. Once again, Holden is looking for any way possible to get people to listen to him.. Tell me something. Supposing you were fed up. Supposing you were going stark, starking mad. Supposing you wanted to quit school and everything and get the hell out of New York. What would you do?"

"Drink up," Carl said. "The hell with that."

"No, I'm serious," Holden pleaded Unlike the cryptic code that Holden usually hides his true thoughts in, the narrator tells us he is pleading, implying that he has started to falter in hiding his thoughts from his audience..

"You've always got a bug," Carl said, and got up and left. Carl is quite blunt here, and the next paragraph opening with Holden drinking a lot is jarring, and can show us how hard Carl's denial to listen really affected him.

Holden went on drinking. He drank up nine dollars' worth Scotch-and-sodas and at 2 A.M made his way from the bar into the little anteroom, where there was a telephone. He dialled dialed three numbers before he got the proper one.

"Hullo!" Holden shouted into the phone.

"Who is this?" inquired a cold voice.

"This is me, Holden Caulfield. Can I speak to Sally, please?"

"Sally's asleep. This is Mrs. Hayes. Why are you calling up at this hour, Holden?"

"Wanna talk Sally, Mis' Hayes. Very 'portant. Put her on."

"Sally's asleep, Holden. Call tomorrow. Good night."

"Wake 'er up. Wake 'er up, huh? Wake 'er up, Mis' Hayes."

"Holden," Sally said, from the other end of the wire. "This is me. What's the idea?"

"Sally? Sally, that you?"

"Yes. You're drunk."

"Sally, I'll come over Christmas Eve. Trim the tree for ya. Huh? Wuddaya say? Huh?" Holden bargains with her. We can infer that Holden calls her to say he'll trim the tree because he believes that it will be another oppotrunity for her to listen to him.

"Yes. Go to bed now. Where are you? Who's with you?"

"I'll trim the tree for ya. Huh? Wuddaya say? Huh?"

"Yes. Go to bed now. Where are you? Who's with you?"

"I'll trim the tree for ya. Huh? O.K.?"

"Yes! Good night!"

"G'night. G'night, Sally baby. Sally sweetheart, darling."

Holden hung up and stood by the phone for nearly fifteen minutes. Then he put another nickel in the slot and dialled the same number again.

"Hullo!" he yelled into the mouthpiece. "Speak to Sally, please."

There was a sharp click as the phone was hung up, and Holden hung up, too. He stood swaying for a moment. Then he made his way into the men's room and filled one of the washbowls with cold water. He immersed his head to the ears, after which he walked, dripping, to the radiator and sat down on it. He sat there counting the squares in the tile floor while the water dripped down his face and the back of his neck, soaking his shirt collar and necktie. Twenty minutes later the barroom piano player came in to comb his wavy hair.

"Hiya, boy!" Holden greeted him from the radiator. "I'm on the hot seat. They pulled the switch on me. I'm getting fried."

The piano player smiled.

"Boy, you can play!" Holden said. "You really can play that piano. You oughta go on the radio. You know that? You're damn good, boy."

"You wanna towel, fella?" asked the piano player.

"Not me," said Holden.

"Why don't you go home, kid?"

Holden shook his head. "Not me," he said. "Not me."

The piano player shrugged and replaced the lady's comb in his inside pocket. When he left the room, Holden stood up from the radiator and blinked several times to let the tears out of his eyes It is never stated that Holden started crying, so it seems quite sudden. However, in further analysis of the rest of the story, it seems clear why he's crying. Not even the piano player will listen to him.. Then he went to the checkroom. He put on his chesterfield without buttoning it and jammed his hat on the back of his soaking-wet head.

His teeth chattering violently, Holden stood on the corner and waited for a Madison Avenue bus. It was a long wait. In the end, Holden has to wait for and ride on a Madison Avenue bus. I believe that Salinger ended the story with this statement rather than Holden crying for a very specific reason. Salinger was very aware of innocence, the loss of it, and many young men's wish to retain it. However, after his experience as a soldier, he seemed to believe that innocence is a priviledge which the world will never allow you to have. Just as J.D Saligner's time in the war ripped his innocence from him, Holden's innocence is similarly riped from him, and he is forced to take the buses he hates so much, and try meekly to be okay with that.