Salinger, J. D. | "The Catcher in the Rye," first edition of this contemporary American classic

Salinger, J. D.

The Catcher in the Rye. Boston: Little, Brown and Company, 1951

8vo. Publisher's black cloth, gilt-lettered spine; gilt somewhat faded, one corner lightly bumped, small dampstain to top of textblock. Original dust-jacket, illustration by Michael Mitchell on upper cover and spine, with the photographic portrait of the author by Lotte Jacobi on the rear panel; lightly toned, particularly the spine panel, head of spine frayed, a few minor chips to edges, surface abrasions to inside flaps old jacket protector.

First edition of this contemporary American classic, exploring the failures of the adult world.

The Book-Of-The-Month Club picked up The Catcher in the Rye just after it was set in galleys. Salinger, ever averse to publicity of any sort, felt the portrait photo on the back cover, as seen in this copy, was too big. He later lobbied to have the photograph removed, and it has not been reprinted since.

Salinger worked on Catcher, chronicling Holden Caulfield's escape from Pencey Prep—reportedly modeled on the Valley Forge Military Academy that Salinger himself attended—to his personal New York City underground, on and off for ten years. It was finally published to mixed reviews, which praised Salinger's brilliance and insight but condemned the pervasiveness of obscenities in the novel. It continues to provoke the "phonies" to the present day and is often the target of overly concerned parents when spotted on school reading lists.

"This novel is a key-work of the nineteen-fifties in that the theme of youthful rebellion is first adumbrated in it, though the hero, Holden Caulfield, is more a gentle voice of protest, unprevailing in the noise, than a militant world-changer... The Catcher in the Rye was a symptom of a need, after a ghastly war and during a ghastly pseudo-peace, for the young to raise a voice of protest against the failures of the adult world. The young used many voices—anger, contempt, self-pity—but the quietest, that of a decent perplexed American adolescent, proved the most telling" (Anthony Burgess, 99 Novels, pp. 53-54.)

REFERENCES:

Burgess 99