"Only six!" said the young man. Do you call that only?"
That's an artist's way of getting the perspective right.
In "Catcher in the Rye," Holden Caufield is not Huckleberry Finn, but he's a true literary descendant of Huck, imparting the wizened thoughts of a kid who can see through the phonies and the pomposities and insecurities of both children and adults. Other characters do likewise. Watch Lane, the boyfriend in "Franny," order snails and frogs' legs, telling those little froggies to "sit still." Snobbish foodies today could learn from his caustic criticism tempered with delicious wit. Who doesn't believe that Salinger's favorite food was the hole in the doughnut?
Huckleberry Finn takes the measure of human nature from those who live on the Mighty Mississippi; Holden Caufield exposes the sophisticates in and around New York City. If I were still a teacher, I would challenge my students to write a page of "Catcher" in words from their own experience, just to see how hard the craft really is. No tricks of Harry Potter allowed, no pushing a plot around or employing vampires to sexually titillate adolescents. Holden, a true child of the '50s, complains that he doesn't understand what a girl means when he's necking with her and she tells him to stop. His voice, unlike vulgar contemporary adolescent jargon, displays perfect pitch in capturing the budding perplexity and puzzlement of an early sexual encounter.
"Catcher in the Rye" takes its title from an overriding metaphor. Holden weaves a fantasy image of himself standing at the edge of a crazy cliff near a field of rye. When children playing a game in the rye above the cliff begin to fall off it, it's Holden's responsibility as the only big person around to catch them. The pleasures of childhood can be dangerous and difficult, but he doesn't want them to miss those thrills. Salinger gives the catcher an authentic voice in the terrifying space between childhood and adulthood. Too bad this remarkable author wouldn't let us be his friend, too.