I must comment on this.
I read about 90% of this novel over my teenage years (could never finish it for some reason). I felt it was a strong, compelling slice-of-life story about someone I could really care about. I didn’t mind Holden’s whining at all. I didn’t mind his cynicism about “phonies”. I didn’t mind his anger at the world, his inability to make friends, or his complete distrust of nearly everything.
Because that used to be me.
I spent four years in an anarchic hellhole of a high school where virtually every grownup was a full-bore phony. I got picked on on almost a daily basis for no good reason, and nobody ever did a damn thing about it. The teachers were hacks. The principal was a bible-thumping blowhard who could not catch or punish wrongdoers and let several students get completely out of control. The counselors were worthless, irascible hacks who didn’t deserve a tenth of whatever they were earning. My parents’ response to all my troubles was either 1. Pretend they didn’t exist, 2. bring up some ludicrous 50-year-old examples which had zippo relevance to my situation, or 3. scream incoherently.
The entire system was corrupt, diseased, and completely perverted from its original purposes; I knew it, and every student with half a brain knew it (which was how they knew they could get away with murder…almost literally, in one instance). So, like Holden, I really didn’t see any point in pretending otherwise.
Do you expect me to “get over it” and get used to being a phony? Hey, the day I start become anything like that egomaniacal, petty, half-cocked, shallow, endlessly hypocritical reprobate of a principal, I want someone to charge through that rye field and hold me very tightly.
It’s easy to be critical of people like Holden when you’ve had compassionate parents, friendly fellow students, intelligent teachers who understood the importance of respect and harmony, and a safe, nuturing environment to grow up in. NONE of this was the case for me. And in those darkest hours, when I was practically drowning in the phoniness, it was gratifying to see just one other person who knew what I was going through. Even if it was a fictional character who eventually got over it.
I guess there’s a reason us eternal ionoclasts exist…