Up to Bat.

When I was in high school, I think I was the world's biggest book snob. I'd only read books by Names: Steinbeck, Vonnegut, Golding...the list could go on. Thing is, I remember reading a lot of books before I was actually ready to. Treasure Island in third grade, just to make me feel important; do I remember it? No. Did I understand any of it? Most likely not.

At the moment, I'm rereading John Updike's "Maples" stories in Too Far to Go. I read them in high school and loved them, loved the family (even through all their in-fighting and subsequent demise). I'm also reading The Catcher in the Rye because the only thing I remember from it is the sour taste Holden Caulfield left in my mouth and the hooker in the green dress. That's it. I'm three chapters in and he's already annoying me; most obnoxious character ever written. Did Holden Caulfield change my life like he has so many since his inception in the 1940's? Yes. It's made me dislike men named Holden.