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Holden Caulfield... Word For Word
Holden mentions catching or a glove in two special references. Once he was speaking of Allie's mit that had all of the poetry on it, and then he spoke of being ''the catcher in rye''. In these contexts they both relate to innocence or the preservation of innocence. He preserved Allie's memory through carrying his mit everywhere he went in his luggage. Since Allie is preserved through his early death in childhood and thus innocence, this is foreshadows Holden's desire to ''catch innocence. Holden was inspired by Robert Burns's poem and further elaborated on his desire to preserve innocence.
Pency is seen as the quintessence of where Holden does not want to be at all. He views it as an institution that is against him and that fails in every way. He mentions several times on the discrepinsies between what Pency is seen as ''a very good school' that produces scholars of good character and as a phony institution that is well acredited, but not worth Holden's time. This may be because Holden was kicked out and he wants to make himself feel better about being let go again by putting the school down. He seems to act more immature at school, like he horses around, and admits he acts childish at times, The bulk of hose times were when he was still at Pency. This relatation between childness and the school is enforced when Holden tries to act more mature out of school by going out drinking and hiring a prostitute. Pency can symbolize many things.
Fists in this novel are seen as a weakness of Holden's. He can no longer make a proper fist with his one hand because he had become upset the night that Allie died and he punched out all the windows in his garage and hurt his hand. He attributes being 'yellow' partly because of this disability and his ineffectivity to punch. When Holden tries to punch Stradlater after his date with Jane, he fails and ends up getting beat up himself. He tries to defend innocence through his fist and always fails. He also fails to protect innocence when he tries to rub out all the profanity from the walls. He then realizes that he cannot protect all of the innocence. That is a large part of Holden growing up.
Holden mentions people, places, situations or things as being phony. It is difficult to figure out exactly what he means by the term, but generally he is referring to something or someone that acts in a way that is contrary to their true feelings, or puts on an act in front of different situations. Holden states that he hates phonies but in many situations he acts hypocritically. He makes up fake names, fake identities, and acts differently that he thinks. This seems phony to me. Holden also says that he is a liar. This he says very bluntly. According to one dictionary a lie can be defined in 4 ways:''lie– noun 1. a false statement made with deliberate intent to deceive; an intentional untruth; a falsehood. 2. something intended or serving to convey a false impression; imposture: His flashy car was a lie that deceived no one. 3. an inaccurate or false statement. 4. the charge or accusation of lying: He flung the lie back at his accusers.'', and phony is defined as: ''phony- adjective 1. not real or genuine; fake; counterfeit: a phony diamond. 2. false or deceiving; not truthful; concocted: a phony explanation. 3. insincere or deceitful; affected or pretentious: a phony sales representative.'' to me those are very similar. I wonder how Holden discriminates between them.
Holden's red hunting hat can be seen as a symbol for protection, his sibblings, or as a comfort item. This is because Holden uses it in times when he does not care what other people think of him or when he feels like he needs something to make him feel invincible.
Jane Gallagher is special to Holden he really likes her. He sees her as intellegent, and innocent. He appreciates her and wants to protect her. He notices things about her like she is a good hand holder, and she keeps her kings in the back row when they played checkers. He fought Ward Stradlater over her because Stradlater went out on a date with Jane and because of his reputation, Holden did not like the idea. This represents the feeling that Holden has for Jane. Jane always seems just out of reach for Holden. She does not answer the phone when he calls and Holden does not go speak with her when she was waiting for Stradlater, and he never gets very intimate with her. This can be seen as another symbol of failure on Holden's part.
The symbol of the ducks in the Central Park South lagoon is very over analyzed. Pretty much they represent Holden's apprehensions to being taken care of when life is icy towards him. To me they also represent Holden's want for someone to listen to him and someone to tell him that everything will be fine. I think the most satisfying response came from Horace the cab driver, but Holden still feels alone, especially when he visits the lagoon and finds no ducks, and feels like he is going to die. They can be seen as a yearning for nurturing and a plan of action.
Sally Hayes is the girl that Holden is dating. He has a framed picture of her in his dorm at Pency. He goes on a date with her that Holden does not enjoy. He tries reaching out to her on several ocassions and is always snubbed. When they went to the play, she spends most of the time speaking to another guy. She also always shows up late. She also shoots down Holden's crazy plot to run away. She seems like she is a generally okay person, but Holden seems to think little of her as an intellectual, but he thinks of her highly when she comes to looks. This is different from Jane who he thinks is pretty, but thinks of her more favorably on an intellectual and personal level.
''I keep picturing all these little kids playing some game in this big field of rye and all.... If they're running and they don't look where they're going I have to come out from somewhere and catch them. That's all I'd do all day. I'd just be the catcher in the rye and all. I know it's crazy.''(ch. 22 )
Plot Summary/Analysis/Criticism
"Boy!" I said. I also say "Boy!" quite a lot. Partly because I have a lousy vocabulary and partly because I act quite young for my age sometimes. I was sixteen then, and I'm seventeen now, and sometimes I act like I'm about thirteen. It's really ironical, because I'm six foot two and a half and I have gray hair. I really do. The one side of my head – the right side – is full of millions of gray hairs. I've had them ever since I was a kid. And yet I still act sometimes like I was only about twelve. Everybody says that, especially my father. It's partly true, too, but it isn't all true. People always think something's all true. I don't give a damn, except that I get bored sometimes when people tell me to act my age. Sometimes I act a lot older than I am – I really do – but people never notice it. People never notice anything. (ch 2)
One of the biggest reasons I left Elkton Hills was because I was surrounded by phonies. That's all. They were coming in the goddam window. For instance, they had this headmaster, Mr. Haas, that was the phoniest bastard I ever met in my life. Ten times worse than old Thurmer. On Sundays, for instance, old Haas went around shaking hands with everybody's parents when they drove up to school. He'd be charming as hell and all. Except if some boy had little old funny-looking parents. You should've seen the way he did with my roommate's parents. I mean if a boy's mother was sort of fat or corny-looking or something, and if somebody's father was one of those guys that wear those suits with very big shoulders and corny black-and-white shoes, then old Hans would just shake hands with them and give them a phony smile and then he'd go talk, for maybe a half an hour, with somebody else's parents. I can't stand that stuff. It drives me crazy. It makes me so depressed I go crazy. I hated that goddam Elkton Hills. (ch 2)
I didn't want to start an argument. "Okay," I said. Then I thought of something, all of a sudden. "Hey, listen," I said. "You know those ducks in that lagoon right near Central Park South? That little lake? By any chance, do you happen to know where they go, the ducks, when it gets all frozen over? Do you happen to know, by any chance?" I realized it was only one chance in a million. He turned around and looked at me like I was a madman. "What're ya tryna do, bud?" he said. "Kid me?" "No – I was just interested, that's all." He didn't say anything more, so I didn't either. Until we came out of the park at Ninetieth Street. Then he said, "All right, buddy. Where to?" (ch9) "The ducks. Do you know, by any chance? I mean does somebody come around in a truck or something and take them away, or do they fly away by themselves – go south or something?" Old Horwitz turned all the way around and looked at me. He was a very impatient-type guy. He wasn't a bad guy, though. "How the hell should I know?" he said. "How the hell should I know a stupid thing like that?" "Well, don't get sore about it," I said. He was sore about it or something. "Who's sore? Nobody's sore." I stopped having a conversation with him, if he was going to get so damn touchy about it. But he started it up again himself. He turned all the way around again, and said, "The fish don't go no place. They stay right where they are, the fish. Right in the goddam lake." […] "Listen," he said. "If you was a fish, Mother Nature'd take care of you, wouldn't she? Right? You don't think them fish just die when it gets to be winter, do ya?" "No, but – " "You're goddam right they don't," Horwitz said, and drove off like a bat out of hell. He was about the touchiest guy I ever met. Everything you said made him sore. (ch 12)
I was only thirteen, and they were going to have me psychoanalyzed and all, because I broke all the windows in the garage. I don't blame them. I really don't. I slept in the garage the night he died, and I broke all the goddam windows with my fist, just for the hell of it. I even tried to break all the windows on the station wagon we had that summer, but my hand was already broken and everything by that time, and I couldn't do it. It was a very stupid thing to do, I'll admit, but I hardly didn't even know I was doing it, and you didn't know Allie. My hand still hurts me once in a while when it rains and all, and I can't make a real fist any more – not a tight one, I mean – but outside of that I don't care much. I mean I'm not going to be a goddam surgeon or a violinist or anything anyway. (ch5)
"She's a dancer," I said. "Ballet and all. She used to practice about two hours every day, right in the middle of the hottest weather and all. She was worried that it might make her legs lousy--all thick and all. I used to play checkers with her all the time." "You used to play what with her all the time?" "Checkers." "Checkers, for Chrissake!" "Yeah. She wouldn't move any of her kings. What she'd do, when she'd get a king, she wouldn't move it. She'd just leave it in the back row. She'd get them all lined up in the back row. Then she'd never use them. She just liked the way they looked when they were all in the back row." Stradlater didn't say anything. That kind of stuff doesn't interest most people. (ch4) Anyway, I was telling you about that afternoon Jane and I came close to necking. It was raining like hell and we were out on her porch, and all of a sudden this booze hound her mother was married to came out on the porch and asked Jane if there were any cigarettes in the house. […] He had a lousy personality. Anyway, old Jane wouldn't answer him when he asked her if she knew where there was any cigarettes. So the guy asked her again, but she still wouldn't answer him. She didn't even look up from the game. Finally the guy went inside the house. When he did, I asked Jane what the hell was going on. She wouldn't even answer me, then. She made out like she was concentrating on her next move in the game and all. Then all of a sudden, this tear plopped down on the checkerboard. […] I don't know why, but it bothered hell out of me. So what I did was, I went over and made her move over on the glider so that I could sit down next to her – I practically sat down in her lap, as a matter of fact. Then she really started to cry, and the next thing I knew, I was kissing her all over – anywhere – her eyes, her nose, her forehead, her eyebrows and all, her ears – her whole face except her mouth and all. She sort of wouldn't let me get to her mouth. Anyway, it was the closest we ever got to necking. […] I asked her […] if Mr. Cudahy – that was the booze hound's name – had ever tried to get wise with her. She was pretty young, but she had this terrific figure, and I wouldn't've put it past that Cudahy bastard. She said no, though. I never did find out what the hell was the matter. Some girls you practically never find out what's the matter. (ch11)
We horsed around a little bit in the cab on the way over to the theater. At first she didn't want to, because she had her lipstick on and all, but I was being seductive as hell and she didn't have any alternative. Twice, when the goddam cab stopped short in traffic, I damn near fell off the seat. Those damn drivers never even look where they're going, I swear they don't. Then, just to show you how crazy I am, when we were coming out of this big clinch, I told her I loved her and all. It was a lie, of course, but the thing is, I meant it when I said it. I'm crazy. I swear to God I am. "Oh, darling, I love you too," she said. Then, right in the same damn breath, she said, "Promise me you'll let your hair grow. Crew cuts are getting corny. And your hair's so lovely." Lovely my ass. (ch 17)
I took of my coat and my tie and unbuttoned my shirt collar, and then i put on this red hunting hat that I'd bought in New York that morning. It wasthis red hunting hat, with one of those very, very long peeks.....I wore it, I swung the old peak way around to the back- very corny, I'll admit, but Iiiked it that way. (ch3) Then what she did- it dan near killed me- she readhed in my coat pocket and took out my red hunting hat and put it on my head. .... My hunting hat really gave me quite a lot of protection, in a way, but I got soaked anyway. I didn't care, though. (ch 25)
