‘The Catcher in the Rye’ is 75, and every time I meet Holden Caulfield, I see him anew

Reading The Catcher in the Rye in high school once carried a certain edgy credibility. Holden Caulfield was the embodiment of youthful alienation for generations of readers and critics. Novelist Joseph O’Connor recalls how, “like many teenaged readers”, he “felt like Holden was talking to me – perhaps to me alone” on first reading the novel in 1981.

This was the obvious irony of readers’ identification with JD Salinger’s teenage loner: if everyone identifies with him, how unique is he really? Perhaps every teenager has at least a few hours where they think of themselves as singular, authentic, misunderstood.

But The Catcher in the Rye turned 75 this year. Holden would now be in his 90s, and identifying with him has become less fashionable. Readers in the 21st century are more likely to skewer him for unchecked privilege, viewing his disaffection as a form of affluenza tied to wealth and whiteness. Even those whose backgrounds and circumstances resemble Holden’s may struggle to sympathise with a character so oblivious to his advantages.

Surely, Holden has it all: high-end luggage, brand-new ice skates, wads of spending money, a series of fresh starts at different private schools. His father “haul[s] it in” as a corporate lawyer. A rich boy enjoying the luxury of self-sabotage in the name...

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