Still catching the 'Rye'

Ron Rollins 
Cox News Service 

   Any baby boomer who made it through the junior year of high school probably knows, or at least vaguely recalls, these words: 
   "If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you'll probably want to know is where I was born, and what my lousy childhood was like, and how my parents were occupied and all before they had me, and all that David Copperfield kind of crap, but I don't feel like going into it, if you want to know the truth. In the first place, that stuff bores me, and in the second place, my parents would have about two hemorrhages apiece if I told anything pretty personal about them.'' 
   Too many commas to be Hemingway. They are the opening sentences of "The Catcher in the Rye,'' J.D. Salinger's famous novel about the awkward tribulations of surviving adolescence. 
   The book will mark its 50th anniversary this year, published in July 1951 by Little, Brown -- the company that has wisely held onto it ever since. It's no longer published with the familiar red cover it had when I read it in high school (the graphic resemblance to Mao's little red book providing an extra little bit of tacit sedition, natch), but otherwise today's editions of young Holden Caulfield's struggles with life and love are still printed simply -- without a bunch of fancy recommendations from critics or any scholarly raves. The book stands by itself as what it is. 
   What it is on the surface, you recall, is a few days in the life of 16-year-old Holden right after he's been tossed out of prep school. He wanders semi-perilously from one thing to the next in New York City, bummed out about having to leave behind his youth and scared to death about embracing adulthood. 
   Holden speaks in an edgy, jaded, world-weary slang that perfectly captures his cynical take on all he sees around him. Teachers, girlfriends, parents -- they're all "phonies'' to Holden. Part of the book's magic is that they all seem to end up becoming phonies to us, too. Holden's appeal is that he is a scared kid who layers on the bluster and hopes nobody will notice. 
   Salinger's young "madman,'' as he likes to call himself, became the literary equivalent of Everyteen, instantly recognizable and a subject of empathy no matter when in your life you read the book. As it turned out, "Catcher'' became a bible of disenchantment for kids and a great American book for high-school teachers, making it one of the very few novels written, perhaps, that has appealed equally to instructor and student on a mass level. 
   Adding to the book's mystique over the years have been the strange, reclusive habits of Salinger, who went into hiding decades ago and hasn't come out since. Now 82, he's gone to Howard Hughes-like lengths to remain hermitic, ducking interviews and suing writers and fans who've tried to pry into his shell. 
   In keeping with Salinger's quietude, Little, Brown and Co. is following a strict code of silence in connection with "Catcher's'' golden anniversary - just the opposite of what might be expected on such a hype-possible event. According to the Associated Press, "There will be no official readings, no panel discussions, not even a press release.'' 
   Actually, that's kind of refreshing, isn't it? Not phony at all. Holden would no doubt approve -- and that's really weird, if you think about it.