The Echo

Something a little different today, an excellent piece of prose by Francis Storrs:

(Click anywhere on the piece to link back to the full article.)

Searching for Salinger, Finding Something More

BOSTON (Jan. 29) -- The obituaries that have followed the death of J.D. Salinger invariably mention the author's infamous reclusiveness. More than a few also discuss the legions of fans who over the years have traveled to his home in Cornish, N.H., skulking around the edges of his 90-acre compound in the hope of spotting their literary hero. The place is surprisingly easy to find, but such was Salinger's legend, and legendary wrath, that the final few yards to his door presented another kind of obstacle. At least, that's how it went for me.

In 1953, two years after "The Catcher in the Rye" had made him famous, Salinger fled Manhattan for the tiny town, which is the kind of place where everyone knows the neighbors and yet tries to avoid speaking with them. Soon thereafter, he insisted that his photograph be removed from his books. He began declining interviews. Then, in 1965, at the age of 46, Salinger stopped sharing his writing altogether. "There is a marvelous peace in not publishing," he told a reporter a decade later, one of the last times he would speak publicly...