Original subtitles

Dear Whit..

...I regret to inform you

that Holden Caulfield is dead.

I know you thought he could protect me.

Or, at the very least

give me refuge from my sarcasm.

But Holden is gone forever.

And I don't know if anything can save me now.

Oh, where's your girl, Jerry? Where'd she go?

Ah, she wanted to dance with her brother.

Oh, it's a tight family.

You know, the Lusitania making it to England

Oh, I don't know, spoiled rich girls love college dropouts.

"He's not only broke, daddy, he's also a Jew."

Hey! Half-Jew.

Oh, God. Why do we keep coming here?

I can't stand all these flits and phonies.

To give girls like that the time.

- Who is that? - Oona O'Neill.

What? As in Eugene O'Neill?

That's her dad.

Rumor is, she's got a thing for writers.

Maybe I can get her drunk and read her one of my stories.

The drunk part, yes, not so sure about the second

I've read your work.

You're a real prince of a guy.

Who are the bodyguards?

Blythe Chaucer and Carol Flourentine

her protectors from morphine addicts

and boys without trust funds.

If you even try to give Oona the time

they'll take your watch away.

Okay.

I'm going in.

Ladies.

- Oona. - Hello.

I'm Jerome David Salinger.

My friends call me Jerry.

It's a pleasure to meet you, Jerome David Salinger.

I'm a huge admirer of your father.

I'm a writer myself, and his plays have been

a great source of inspiration to me.

What do you write?

I, uh..

I write short stories.

- Really? Have you -- - Have you been published?

Come on, Oona, I want to introduce you to Billy Chanler.

- He's here? - Yes.

Oh, right now?

- Great. - Let's go.

Until we meet again, Jerome David Salinger.

Come on, Oona doll.

Billy!

Excuse me, sir, do you happen to know the time?

That went well.

Through the course of my fascinatingly dull life

I've always found fiction so much more truthful than reality.

And, yes, I'm aware of the irony.

He had neither the looks, personality, or good clothes

to gain Shirley's interest.

He didn't have a chance.

And as I said before

to write a really good boy-meets-girl story

it's wise to have the boy meet the girl.

I can't concentrate with you staring at me like that.

Well, do you like it?

- It's really good. - You can tell me the truth.

I am. It's...terrific.

Tie your shoes, honey.

So, what do you think, mom?

I love the kids. I love the way they talk.

Yeah, 'cause in the slicks, the teens always sound phony

because they're written by 50-year-old drunks.

You know, it just kills me.

Well, you're really talented.

I think I want to try to publish.

How would you do that?

I want to go back to school, to study creative writing.

You what?

You get kicked out of every school I send you too

because of that smart alec mouth of yours.

How do you possibly believe

you could be a professional writer?

I don't know, I just like doing it.

He's very talented, Sol.

Even if he is, it's impossible to make a living at it

even for the best of students

and you're not even a good student.

I can't do anything right.

Ah -- ah, sonny, sonny..

Come here, sit down. Sorry. Please.

I -- I -- I just don't want you to be disappointed

when it doesn't work out.

And it won't.

It never does.

Listen to me, meat and cheese distribution

has been very good to this family.

Six years ago, Buddy Richman was practically broke.

He buys a slaughterhouse

and now he's king of the bacon.

That could be you, sonny boy!

Jerry is not going to sell cheese

or pigs, or cows, or milk.

He is not going to be the king of the bacon.

He is going to go to Columbia.

He is going to study writing.

That's what Jerry is going to do

and you are going to pay for it.

I bet if I never walked into your class that day

then Holden Caulfield probably wouldn't even exist.

So, in a way, this whole mess

is as much your fault as it is mine.

There is nothing more sacred

than story.

The Bible, the Koran, the Torah.

The stories contained in these books

are so powerful

that people actually believe

they were written by a God.

That is the power

that a story can hold.

And in the course of this semester

you will be given the tools and the techniques

to be able to create your own stories

so that you can enrapture people, move..

I was always a lousy student.

Even when I wanted to be there.

It was pretty embarrassing, if you want to know the truth.

How does that sound, Mr. Salinger?

I'm so sorry, you lost me at Bible.

Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. Salinger

did you think that this course was a study in atheism?

No. No, I didn't.

But I'm hoping there really is a God

that'll give you something interesting to say.

- Oh! - Oh!

Funny, I had the same thought

when I read your admissions essay.

Although they still let you in

it must be a very lean year for Columbia.

Mr. Salinger wrote an essay

very funny

brimming with exactly the sort of sarcasm

that he so beautifully displayed here

in the first five minutes of the course.

And yet, after that Mr. Salinger failed

to turn that clever voice of his

into an actual narrative.

Which is a shame, because there is some potential there.

But this is the work

we will all be striving to achieve.

And by the end of the semester

God willing, or in Mr. Salinger's case, unwilling

you will all understand

the difference between wanting to be a writer

and actually being one.

My countrymen, and my friends

I had hoped against hope that some miracle would prevent

a devastating war in Europe

and bring to an end

the invasion of Poland by Germany.

I have said many times that I have seen war

and I hate war.

I hope the United States

will keep out of this war.

I believe that it will.

Oh, Mr. Salinger.

Come in, have a seat.

Would you like a drink?

- Coffee, please. - Coffee, please.

So, how did you find me here?

Oh, I used to go to NYU, and I always saw you

grading papers in the window.

Hey, why do you come all the way down to the Village?

I couldn't think of a better place to read the work

of the next Fitzgerald or Hemingway

than right here in Greenwich Village.

- Sir. - Thank you.

And what about you? What happened at NYU?

They kick you out for that mouth of yours?

No, it was a mutual understanding.

They wanted me gone, and I wanted them dead.

Well, you're not the first wise-ass I've taught, you know.

You act out at authority figures like me

because you're emotionally repressed at home

and you also think you're the cleverest boy

that ever walked the planet, and no one

recognizes what a genius you are.

It's pretty typical stuff, if you want to know the truth.

But enough of my dime-store Freud.

What can I do for you, Mr. Salinger?

Uh, well, I -- I -- I wanted to ask about

what you talked about in class.

You know, my voice overwhelming the story.

I always thought my voice is what defines me as a writer.

Absolutely.

Your voice is what makes your story unique.

But when that voice overwhelms the story

as it did in your admissions essay

then it becomes an expression more of your ego

than of the emotional experience of the reader.

Does that make sense?

Kind of.

Kind of..

No.

I'd apologize for being late, but since I'm going to be late

for every single class this semester

I'm going to instead save my strength

for the reading of your pages

and heavy drinking.

Now, today I want to focus on

the writer's voice.

And to illustrate this, I'm going to read a passage to you

from William Faulkner.

Alright, now I want you to listen carefully.

In fact, close your eyes.

"The jailer cut her down

"and then, revived her.

"Then he beat her

"and whipped her.

"She had hung herself

with her dress."

Alright, so, what happened?

A woman in jail tried to commit suicide

and after the jailer saved her, he beat her.

Exactly. This is why I let women audit my classes.

Hopefully, the rest of the university will soon follow suit.

Alright, now, I read this passage

in as dull a voice as I could possibly muster

and yet you were still all engaged

by the passage. Why?

Because the events of the story were compelling

thematically layered, and dramatic.

Now, of course, Faulkner is famous

for his voice, with its unique, regional style.

And so therefore, even the non-writer thinks

that they love Faulkner

but in fact it is the events of the story

the attempted suicide, the beating

that draws us in.

And then Faulkner uses his voice

to make the story uniquely his own.

Does that make sense?

For our next class, I want you all to write

a five-page story.

Ask yourselves, if I were to read this in a monotone

would I still keep the class' attention?

Okay, well, I'm really not going to do any better than that today.

So, that's it, you can use the rest of the time

to write your story, or masturbate.

Just try not to confuse

the former with the latter.

God knows, there is many an author

who has failed at that very task.

Have a good weekend. See you later, children.

The one good thing about being stuck in a nut house

is everyone here is in the same lousy shape as I am.

Truth be told, I never really fit in anywhere

in the whole goddamned world.

Uptown, I was a Jew. Downtown, I was a square.

But on occasion, I could fool the girls into thinking

I was Clark Gable's cousin.

Bravo! Bravo!

Keep giving 'em hell, Ernie!

You know what, I actually think

'cause I love how much it pisses my father off.

That's hilarious. You need to go with that.

You should write your story about that.

Nah.

- You got your watch on? - Yes. Why?

Because you need to give that girl the time.

Yes, I do.

- Hi. - Hi.

- So, you like jazz? - What do you think?

So, um, what do you do most of the time on weekends?

I don't know. What do you do most of the time on weekends?

This and that.

This and that?

I know that's code for sowing your wild oats.

"Sow your wild oats?"

I'm sorry. I don't follow.

Oh, please. Chase around.

Joe College.

Sow the wild oats?

"I don't think I get your drift."

"You know, chase around. Joe College."

Suddenly, from the other side of the room

a small blond shrieked with laughter.

Yes. It was very good.

Your voice was present and entertaining

but it helped tell the story, it didn't become it.

I -- I felt it, you know, I could tell

when something I wrote was too clever.

- Was it true? - Hmm, some of it. Some, I made up.

Well, you know what we call that?

- What? - Writing.

So, how do I get it published?

Well, that's a bit ambitious

for your first outing, don't you think?

Well, a real writer publishes, right?

That's the only way to make a living at it.

Oh, wait, let me guess, your father told you that.

Well, why don't you try "The New Yorker?"

I'm sure that would impress him.

I was actually thinking "Story Magazine."

I love their pieces.

Do you know who the editor of "Story" is?

Well, yeah. You.

And on behalf of "Story," I would like to thank you for your submission.

Unfortunately, we're going to decline at this time.

But we do look forward to reading your future submissions.

Mr. Salinger, you're about to learn the second most important lesson

on having a career as a writer.

Learning to deal with rejection.

Well, I'm going straight to "The New Yorker"

and they're going to publish it, and you're going to be sorry!

I already am!

- Hi, I'm here to -- - Submit a short story.

Fill this out. Leave your story.

We'll get back to you in four to six weeks.

This is the...first story I've ever submitted.

Well, that's a historic day for us all.

What's the J.D. stand for?

It's juvenile delinquent.

Don't write that.

And I want those re-writes before next week.

And do not get used to the idea of me staying for each class

my dinner plans canceled.

Oh, it's your first rejection letter.

You have to get that framed!

- So, what do I do now? - You're a writer.

What do you think you do now?

Write another story?

Yes. And then write another one after that.

And then another one after that.

And then another one after that.

- Okay. - And then another one after that!

Perhaps my dreams of literary triumph

were the delusions of an egotistical

and overly-ambitious boy who should have listened

when he was offered the chance to be the king of the bacon.

I could've been a king, Whit.

I don't know if I'm cut out for this.

Yeah. Maybe you're not.

- You -- you don't think I am? - Well..

Let me ask you a question.

Why do you want to do this?

Publish?

No.

Be a writer.

Why do you want to write?

Because I..

I get angry about a lot of things.

When I'm writing, I feel like I'm doing something about it.

Like I'm finally getting to speak my mind.

You see, Jerry, this is what you need to be doing in your writing.

Explore what it is that makes you angry

and then put that into a story.

- But -- - No, no, no, but here's the catch.

You still may never publish.

- Never? - Nope.

You may spend the rest of your life

being rejected.

And now, you have to ask yourself a question.

Are you willing to devote your life

to telling stories

knowing that you may get nothing in return?

And if the answer to that question is no

well, then, you should go out there

and find yourself something else to do with your life

because you're not a true writer.

Good day. Thank you very much.

No, no, no, no.

Take your rejections with you.

Would you look at this place, it's beautiful.

You -- you'll find something else

you like to do, sonny. You'll see.

And it'll be something you can actually make a buck at.

Try not to worry about anything this week, dear.

It's a vacation, and you should relax.

She had immense eyes that always seemed in danger

of capsizing in their own innocence.

She was with a small boy, unmistakably her brother

and it was only when his sister spoke to him

that he came around and applied

the small of his back to his chair.

Now, there are two kinds of femme fatale..

The noisy young people she'd invited..

Jerry, your sister didn't drive all the way up here

to watch you write in a lobby for five days.

Now, put that away

I will, in -- in one hour. I'm almost done, okay?

What makes you think you have anything to say to people?

Grow up!

Oh, Jerry, why don't you, uh, hang back for a minute?

Yeah, thanks.

Now that you have made a true commitment

to your craft, I think it's time.

Time for what?

For you to be published.

In..

This is the first damned story I gave you.

Oh, I loved it right away.

I just had to be sure you were a real writer

before I published it.

So..

This is your first check

as a real writer.

Thank you.

Thank you so much.

You're welcome. Now go write another story.

- To publishing! - To publishing!

Oh, your old man finally impressed?

No, when I showed him the check, he told me

I could finally afford a suit to get a real job.

To hell with him.

He's just jealous because you're a paid writer

he's nothing but a lousy Jew pig-seller.

You know, he hides the fact that he's Jewish from our neighbors?

Always has. The first phony I ever met was on the day I was born.

What the hell are they doing?

The Stork Club advertises

that Oona comes here 'cause of her dad

but they only photograph her drinking milk

because she's underage.

That could be the most pathetic thing I've ever seen.

Alright, that's my cue.

- Going in. - Ooh!

- Oona. - Hmm!

So lovely to see you again. Carol. Blythe.

- I'm Blythe! - Great.

If you don't mind, I'm going to give

the most beautiful girl in the world a twirl.

Alright.

I read your piece in "Story."

- You read "Story?" - I read everything.

And what did you think?

I thought it was marvelous.

No, it was simply marvelous.

Thank you, you're without a doubt

the most special girl I've ever seen.

And you're very handsome

Jerome David Salinger.

- What do you think? - I love it.

Just a few months. But I don't think I'll be here much longer.

Why? Where are you going to go?

Hollywood.

If I want to get into pictures, that's the place to be, right?

Yeah.

You know, I -- I used to want to be an actor.

- Really? - But I hate Hollywood.

It's a bunch of jaguar-driving jerks making crap

for knuckleheads that can't read.

You're funny.

And you're so talented.

I love talent.

- Don't go to California. - Why?

I -- I think it's better if you stay here.

Stay here and do theatre.

Have you asked your dad to put you in any of his plays?

Mnm-mnm.

Why?

We don't speak. We don't speak very often.

I'm -- I'm sorry. I didn't..

It's alright.

You know, I haven't seen him since I was a little girl, actually.

You know, I don't know why he doesn't love me.

I never did anything wrong.

You know, my -- my -- my dad doesn't love me either.

- I -- I should -- I should probably go now. - Jerry.

- No, I.. - Jerry, you don't have to.

I.. If I -- if I get back to my writing

I can get a lot done tonight.

- Okay. - Um..

- Do you want to go dancing, Friday? - Yes.

- Yes? - Yes.

- I'd love to. - Alright, me too.

Okay.

- Good. - Okay.

That's the thing about girls.

Every time they do something pretty

you fall half in love with them.

And then you never know where the hell you are.

Jerry, Jerry, Jerry! Hang in there, my love.

I know it can be a slog, but you've got to stick out

these dry spells.

Everyone loves the writing.

I get terrific feedback every time I submit you.

That's terrific, but I haven't

had a story published in eight months.

Well, have you thought about writing something

with a little more pop to it?

More "Post" than "New Yorker?"

No, I hate the "Post," it's a bunch of sentimental crap.

- I know. - I wanna be a "New Yorker" writer.

And you will be, but it's never easy, my love.

And there's no harm in dumbing it down once in a while.

We just got to get you published again.

Publishing is everything.

Oh, I don't even know what I should write about.

Oh, Jerry.

First of all, you need to relax.

You're not gonna do better work being so stressed.

Take that pretty girlfriend of yours on a date.

Have some fun.

How's it going with her?

Hey, Pearl.

I'm sorry, Jerry, but Oona isn't here.

She left for the Hamptons this morning.

She did what?

- We had a date. - You know Oona.

Yeah. Okay. Thanks.

Maybe I'm just not capable of experiencing happiness

like the fella that works at a lousy job

and has a pretty wife, and a bunch of stupid kids.

Maybe I didn't lose my mind at all.

Maybe I never had it in the first place.

You should get out of here, kid.

He made his way into the men's room

and filled both washbowls with cold water.

"You want a towel, fella?" asked the piano player.

"Not me," said Holden.

"Why don't you go home, kid?"

Holden Caulfield went on drinking.

Hello, it's me, Jerry Salinger, I just wanna speak to Oona.

She's asleep. Why are you calling so late?

"This is me, Holden Caulfield, can I speak to Sally, please?"

It doesn't have to be anything serious.

- You're just such a phony! You are! - No. I'm not a phony.

You go to hell! Don't say that..

- Oona? - What?

Oona, can I call you tomorrow?

His teeth chattering violently

Holden Caulfield stood on the corner

and waited for the Madison Avenue bus.

It was..

...a long wait.

No, we -- we didn't order champagne.

I did.

I asked you here so we could celebrate.

Uh, ce -- celebrate what?

I have some exciting news.

"The New Yorker" read "Slight Rebellion Off Madison."

And they want to publish it.

- "The New Yorker?" - Yes!

They love your Holden Caulfield character

they feel he's completely original.

I'm so happy for you, Jerry.

"The New Yorker." I can't believe it!

Well, believe it, my love.

To publishing.

It really is everything.

Now, they have a couple of notes

that they want you to address.

- Notes? - Yes.

All writers have to go through this with every magazine

and "The New Yorker" has more notes than most.

They want all their stories to have

a "New Yorker" signature to them.

What if I don't want to do the notes?

They told me their problems with the story.

Should I tell you?

Sure. Sure. Okay. Tell me their problems.

First off, they think Holden's drinking comes out of nowhere.

They want it to be clearer he's an alcoholic.

No, but...he's not an alcoholic, he's..

He's just getting drunk because he's depressed about the girl.

Well, they think that's unclear.

I don't, I think that's perfectly clear.

Well, maybe you can make a slight adjustment

so it's not confusing for some people.

Also, they think it would be nice if, in the end

Holden and Sally got back together.

They specifically said we don't need to see it

we just want the reader to have a sense that they'll end up --

But they don't end up together. That's not what happens.

- Why not? - Because people don't end up together.

It usually doesn't work out.

Okay, look, I know in every goddamn story, and every goddamn magazine

the couple always falls in love with a stupid kiss

to make us feel all warm and fuzzy

and full of Christmas cheer, but that's not

what happens in real life.

Someone always gets their heart broken

and has a hard time getting over it.

Sometimes, they drink

because they're upset, even though they're not alcoholics.

I just want my writing to be truthful.

That's all.

So, what would you like me to tell them?

Tell them I'm very open to notes

but Holden's not an alcoholic, and they don't end up together.

Those are the only notes, Jerry.

Well, tell them I won't make those changes.

You're so talented.

Give Oona a little twirl?

So, get this, I told Oona about "The New Yorker.."

- And? - We've already been out three times.

- To "The New Yorker!" - To "The New Yorker!"

Did they have any notes?

- Who? - "The New Yorker."

Did they have any notes on the story?

No.

Well, I'm not surprised they loved it.

That Holden character is fantastic.

It's exactly what I've been telling you about digging deeper.

Yeah. Yeah, I -- I felt it when I was writing him.

It...just flowed out of me.

I want to keep writing stories about him.

You should.

Well..

Another.

- You okay there, boss? - Ah..

Well..

Between you and me, things aren't great at "Story."

Money is tight.

I mean, Martha watches the finances, and me.

Apparently, I'm still spending too much money.

You'll have to shut it down?

No, no, we'll be alright for now.

But it's been tough on us.

I got an eye.

I can spot talent coming a mile away.

Saroyan, Cheever, Caldwell

I discovered them all.

Of course, it would be nice if somebody discovered me.

Hey, come on, you've been published.

I not only discovered them

I shaped them.

I challenged them.

This is me.

You should..

...continue to write about Holden

but not as a short story.

Well, hang on, wait. Wait, wait, wait.

What do you mean?

I think Holden Caulfield is a novel.

No.

No, I -- I couldn't write a whole novel.

I'm a dash man, not a miler.

You only say that because you're lazy.

Holden Caulfield..

...deserves an entire book, all on his own.

Well, a novel is a lot of words.

It's just more words.

Imagine the book

that you would want to read.

And then go write it.

Hey! Mom.

What's wrong?

Mom.

Hey, what is it?

What's happened?

We interrupt this broadcast to bring you this important bulletin

from the United Press.

We have witnessed this morning

the attack of Pearl Harbor

and the severe bombing

of Pearl Harbor by army planes.

Undoubtedly Japanese.

It's no joke.

It's a real war.

I don't care what you say, I'm sending you socks

every week, and you had better wear them.

Please, you'll embarrass me.

They're gonna supply everything I need.

Everyone, can I have your attention, please?

As you all know, tomorrow morning

our son, Jerry, is going off to war.

Perhaps this will turn him into the man

I know he is destined to become.

And I would like to propose a toast

to the best student I've ever had.

To Jerry!

A wonderful writer, an inspiration

and a great friend.

To Jerry!

- To Jerry! - To Jerry!

This may not be the best timing

but I have some bad news.

Really? What?

"The New Yorker" isn't going to run

the Holden Caulfield story.

Um, why not?

They think it's too frivolous

now that we've entered the war.

I'm sorry, Jerry.

No. It's fine.

Promise you'll wait for me.

- I promise. - Really?

Of course, Jerry.

Well, she is an actress.

Hey, hey, mark my words, I will marry that girl.

Well, it's a good thing her father is a comedy writer.

Anyway, how's everything at the home front with you?

You, uh, good with Martha? Chewing your ear?

Everything in my home is fine

because what you'll learn about having a wife

is that, occasionally, she just needs to yell

to feel better.

Oh, and by the way, I'm awfully sorry

about "The New Yorker."

How'd you know about that?

Oh, please.

They canned the Caulfield story

because you wouldn't take any of their notes.

You know, you cannot be a pain in the ass

until you're a success.

Oh, yeah?

Well, to hell with "The New Yorker." You know what?

I'll put it in an anthology with the other short --

No, no, no! Don't do that! Don't do that!

Don't do that to Holden Caulfield!

He deserves a novel!

- You really think so? - I know so!

He's a fantastic character.

Listen to me.

While you're over there, you know, uh

getting the clap from all those French whores

do me a favor..

I want you to write about him.

I want Holden Caulfield to be your best friend.

And listen to me.

Stay alive! Alright?

Stay alive!

No matter what!

After I enlisted in the army, I bounced from base to base

until they finally shipped me off to England.

I knew army food would be bad

but they promised us a steak dinner

the night before the big invasion.

I just couldn't start the Caulfield novel.

That's why I kept sending you short stories

for the anthology I was writing instead.

I had never written anything so personal.

That's why he was a first-person character.

I didn't want to begin Holden's story

because I was scared I wouldn't live long enough to finish it.

Hey, Jerry. How's your girlfriend?

I wish they'd all just forget about it.

- Bye, lover boy. - Come on, Jerry.

You're the first guy to ever get dumped on the front page

of every newspaper in the country.

It's pretty nuts.

Chaplin's old enough to be her father.

Well, what can I say? Everyone loves that little tramp.

In a scandal that has rocked the nation

the biggest movie star in the world, Charlie Chaplin

has married the 18-year-old daughter of famed playwright

Eugene O'Neill, who has declared that she has finally met

her true love.

It's just more words.

"Holden Caulfield," she said.

"It's marvelous to see you. It's been ages."

She had one of those very loud, embarrassing voices

when you met her somewhere.

She got away with it because she was so damned good-looking

but it always gave me a pain in the ass.

"It's swell to see you," I said.

I meant it too.

"How are you, anyway?"

"Grand," she said.

If there is one word I hate, it's grand.

It's so phony.

This is a momentous hour in world history. D-Day.

The men of General Dwight D. Eisenhower

are fighting their way up the beaches in fire and blood

into the fortress of Nazi Europe.

Casualties in this mammoth operation

may reach a dreadful toll.

I had stormed Normandy with six chapters in my back.

And I'd be lying if I didn't tell you

Holden got me through some rough spells.

He gave me something to focus on

when things weren't going so hot.

That's one of the things I love the most about writing.

Your mind keeps on working on your stories

whether you've got a pen or a gun in your hand.

It just never stops creating.

Fire!

Careful!

Hey, you okay?

You gotta shoot me! Shoot me!

Hey, hey..

I did everything I could to keep on writing.

I really did.

No pen. No typewriter. To hell with them.

I kept on telling Holden's story

even if it was only to myself.

I thought I'd get pneumonia, and then I'd probably die.

M -- millions of..

...j -- jer -- jerks at my funer..

f -- funeral.

Jerry! Jerry!

You're gonna be alright, okay?

Alright? You just got to warm up a bit, okay?

Come on. Here we go.

Alright.

Hey. Hey, you just got to warm up.

Okay?

Hey.

How about the socks your mom sent you?

She's a smart lady, Jer, alright?

Take 'em.

They'll keep you warm, alright.

Okay?

I'm not going anywhere.

Jerry?

Jerry?

Jerry? Can you hear me?

Jerry, I want you to look at me.

Could you look at me, Jerry?

Jerry.

Squeeze my hand if you can hear me.

Alright..

I'm truly sorry you wasted all that time on me.

But you gotta believe me when I tell you

I have nothing left to say..

...about Holden Caulfield

or anything else, for that matter.

Sincerely yours

Jerry Salinger.

He's here!

- Is he still crazy? - Shh!

Welcome home, sonny!

All the way home from Germany!

Hey, mom.

- Doris, hey. - Jerry.

Hey.

Uh, this is my wife.

Sylvia.

Well, this is my mom, Miriam.

This is my sister, Doris.

And that's my father, Sol.

Hello.

So, sonny, you were, uh..

You were interrogating Nazis after the war?

Yeah, yeah, we were trying to find out

where all the Nazis were hiding.

That sounds exciting.

So, Sylvia, what do you do?

She's a rodeo clown.

It's a joke.

I'm an ophthalmologist by trade.

Before the war.

When did you two get married?

About six months ago.

Oh. That's when you stopped responding to our letters.

I know.

Well, I..

I haven't written a word in over a year.

Well, I hope you're gonna write stories again.

Maybe after Whit publishes "The Young Folks" anthology.

It's the only reason why I came home.

And to see all of you.

Most of these, I wrote before I went to Europe

but a few, I wrote during the war.

And what about the Caulfield novel?

Where are you with that?

About halfway.

When do you think you're gonna finish?

I just..

I can't work on it anymore.

- Why not? - It brings back too many memories..

I want to forget it all.

Well, have you written anything since you got back?

I tried, I ju..

I just can't do it.

Well, we'll publish your anthology

and I'll bet before long you'll be back at that typewriter.

I hope so.

I'm not getting enough sleep, so it's hard to concentrate.

And sometimes, I..

I wake up, and I'm -- I'm s -- screaming.

Well, these are all very common post-war symptoms, Jerry.

Okay?

And have you been painting, at all?

No. No, 'cause I'm not a painter, I'm a writer.

Yes.

Yes, of course. Writer.

No, with the nightmares, I just..

Sometimes, I have flashbacks of the camps during the day too.

It's almost like I'm there. I can smell..

Is there anything I can do for that?

No, these are all very common occurrences

from soldiers returning from combat.

It's just a phase.

Alright?

Hey.

Hello.

So, you've been drinking?

No. No, I haven't touched a drop in years.

Oh, that's right. You joined a temperance union.

Joined? You mean, started.

I also joined the divorce union.

Well, kind of more... annulled, if you want to get technical about it.

- What happened? - Something that never should've.

I think she might be a Nazi.

Are you serious?

I don't know. Maybe.

I ju..

Well, now see, that is something you should write about.

Have you started up again?

No, um..

You know...I think once the anthology is published

that'll hopefully get me going again.

What?

The anthology has just turned out to be..

...a little more complicated than I thought.

How?

Well, you know we don't publish on our own

we don't have the money for it, so we have this

relationship with Lippincott to finance

the long form, and..

They've rejected the book.

They -- they don't want to publish it.

So, y -- you're not going to publish "The Young Folks" --

I -- I nearly ended the relationship with --

You nearly ended the relationship?

How nearly brave of you that must have been!

- Come on. - No. No, no, that means a lot to me.

I mean, you know that was the only reason

I came back from Germany. You knew how much it meant to me.

- How much I needed that! - At least it brought you home.

I didn't want to come home!

Jerry, I'm sorry, there's nothing I can do, alright?

I went to war with these guys over this.

War? War?

- War? You went to war with these guys? - I'm sorry.

No, that was a bad choice of words. I didn't mean --

- I landed on D-Day! - I understand --

No, no, no, no, no. You have no idea.

I'm only alive because we missed our landing by a thousand yards.

But I saw them all get killed.

I saw every single one of them get killed!

- I should be dead too. I shouldn't be here. - Jerry, I'm sorry.

Don't sit there and tell me how you fought for this!

You are a liar! You're a goddamn liar!

And I never want to see you again!

Jerry!

Hey, mister.

I have a question for you.

Where do you think the ducks go in the winter

when the pond freezes over?

I'm sorry, pal, I ain't got no idea.

Hey, you, uh, do you wanna smoke?

Yeah, thank you.

Hey, you want a, you want a nip?

Don't mind if I do.

- Have you got a light? - I think I do.

Hey! Hey! I'm a veteran!

I'm a veteran, goddammit! Stop..

What are you all doing?

I keep having nightmares about the war, almost every night.

Sometimes, I wake up screaming.

And you also see it during the day.

How'd you know?

Before I studied the teachings of Ramakrishna

I was a Freedom Fighter in India against the British.

It was the violence I witnessed that led me on the same path

that has led you to me.

Do you think the nightmares will ever go away?

Oh, yes.

But first, you must heal from the violence that has been inflicted

upon your soul.

But how?

Right.

Our religion consists of meditation

on the spirit of full consciousness.

Come. Remove your shoes.

This is how we will begin to heal the pain.

Those are very handsome shoes.

Thank you.

Come. Sit.

Very good. Now, close your eyes.

It's alright. It won't hurt you.

Ultimate reality is an all-pervading..

...uncreated..

...self-luminous..

...eternal spirit.

It is the consciousness that animates

all conscious beings.

I, I try to write.

Every day, I sit at the typewriter, but I can't start.

What do you think about when you stare at the blank page?

Well, that it won't be good.

That I've lost my talent.

So, what if you have?

Then I shouldn't write.

You write to show off your talent?

Or to express what's in your heart?

I finally started yesterday.

- Good. - No, it wasn't good.

I mean, the writing was terrible, and I only managed one page.

Then what happened?

Did you enjoy it?

- Writing? - No, ripping up the page.

Yeah.

I ripped up five pages yesterday.

Sounds like fun.

Seymour Glass.

"Are you going in the water, Seymour Glass?" she said.

He suddenly got to his feet. He looked at the ocean.

"I'll tell you what we'll do.

"We'll see if we can catch a bananafish.

This is a perfect day for bananafish."

Well, I love what you've done with the place.

You're writing again?

Mm-hmm.

The Caulfield novel?

Uh, no. No, I -- I tried.

- But.. - Thank you.

You know, it's just some..

...short stories, I've been working on them.

They're not very good, but at least I'm getting pages done.

Well, that's why I'm here.

You remember that story that "The New Yorker" was going to publish?

"Slight Rebellion Off Madison."

My first Caulfield story.

Well, they've been reviewing all their past submissions

from before the war, and they are considering publishing it.

Really?

- Yes, really. - Oh.

I don't know if you remember

but they had specific notes

you didn't want to take.

And if you want them to publish it

you're going to have to make their changes.

Oh, come on, at least hear them out.

Publishing is everything.

Well, "The New Yorker" holds a special place in American literature

and it's important to us that our stories have a uniform vision.

We want the reader to be able to read a story

and know that it could only run in "The New Yorker."

Well, that's exactly what I don't want.

You don't want to be...published in "The New Yorker?"

No. No, I love "The New Yorker."

I just don't want to write stories like everyone else.

You know, the war hero doesn't always get a parade.

Sometimes, he blows his head off.

I want to create a new form of writing

a modern form about modern society

in which the pain of our existence

is laid out truthfully for everyone to see.

I'll make a deal with you.

If you try the notes

and don't feel they make your story better

then I'll submit your original version.

I don't want Holden and Sally to end up together.

That's not what happens in real life, at least not in my life.

Well, that's fine. It was just a thought we had.

I thought it was a big sticking point for you.

Not if you feel that it destroys the integrity of the piece.

Look, Jerry, I'm not trying to take your story over

or write it for you.

You have a wonderful voice, but you over-explain.

You know, trust that the reader is going to understand you.

What do you mean I over-explain?

It's better.

Your notes worked. Thanks.

You're welcome.

I'll submit it to Harold Ross and the team.

It should take a few weeks to get an answer.

I wanted to give you another story I wrote.

I thought you could help me make it better.

Well, shouldn't "Bananafish," be two wor --

- No, it has to be one. - Why?

Because two words would make too much sense.

Dear Jerry, I've sent you several letters

but you never respond.

I hope you believe me when I tell you there was nothing I could do.

I begged them to publish it, I really did.

And now I'm begging for your forgiveness.

Because I -- I truly..

I've read several of your stories

and they're very impressive for someone your age.

My writing changed a lot after the war.

The war changed a lot of writers.

The ones that survived.

Jerry, I brought you here today because I wanted to tell you personally

that "The New Yorker" would like to publish you.

Uh, which -- which story?

All of them.

All of them?

I would like to offer you a first rejection contract.

We'll pay you a handsome yearly salary

and in return, we get to read all of your stories first.

The ones we don't publish

you're free to sell to other magazines.

It's the most prestigious contract in American publishing.

Congratulations, Jerry.

You did it.

♪ I love to hear our laughter mingle ♪

♪ Hah hah ho ho

♪ Gliding through the snow ♪

May I present Jerry Salinger?

Peggy Siskin.

"The New Yorker's" incipient Great man of American Letters.

Jerry, if I may, I am also a writer.

Fantastic.

I thought "Uncle Wiggily In Connecticut"

was marvelous. I'm simply dying for your next story.

When Seymour Glass shot himself

you weren't just talking about the war

you were talking about the bourgeois

capitalist infrastructure of a modern plutocracy.

Or maybe it was the war. But it's really up to the reader.

Jerry is in the very beginnings of his first novel.

And Bill says you may be writing a novel.

So, when are you going to write a novel?

- Hopefully, it won't be too long. - Let's get a picture.

Ooh, thank you so much.

The main picture.

Here we are.

♪ Jing a ling jing a ling jing a ling ♪

There's one thing that's been weighing on me.

A novel I'm trying to..

Wanting to finish, but can't.

I'm scared if I work on it, the nightmares will come back.

Is it about the war?

No, it's about a character I wrote about during the war.

He was with me everywhere I went.

Every time you attempt to work on it

you feel the war again.

You know, you never really get the smell of burning flesh

out of your nostrils.

Perhaps finishing this book is the way for you to move on.

Right.

There's just so many distractions everywhere, I..

Then you must remove distractions.

Well, this is it.

It gets a little drafty, but the price is right.

What are you gonna do up here?

Oh, just a little writing.

Mmm.

I'll just tell you about this madman stuff that happened to me

around last Christmas..

...just before I got pretty run-down.

Finally, what I decided I'd do, I decided I'd go away.

I decided I'd never go home again.

I'd never go away to another school again.

That way, I wouldn't have to have any goddamned stupid

useless conversations with anybody.

I keep picturing all these little kids

playing some game in this big field of rye and all.

Thousands of little kids, and nobody's around

nobody big, I mean, except me.

And I'm standing on the edge of some crazy cliff.

What I have to do, I have to catch everybody

if they start to go over the cliff.

I mean, if they're running, and they don't look where they're going

I have to come out from somewhere, and catch them.

And that's all I'd do, all day.

I'd just be the catcher in the rye and all.

I know it's crazy

but that's the only thing I'd really like to be.

- Jerry! - Hi.

Thanks so much for stopping by.

- Well, thank you. - It's great to meet you.

- Mr. Giroux, a pleasure. - Robert. Please call me Robert.

- Have a seat. - Thank you.

It's such an honor to have you here.

Well, I'm sorry for stopping by unannounced.

I just wanted to speak to you personally.

No apologies necessary.

I don't know if you remember, but a year ago

you sent me the kindest letter about my writing

asking if you could publish a book of my short stories.

Of course. I love those stories.

Uh, I just completed my first novel, and, um..

If -- if -- if you like, I -- I -- I..

I'd like you to publish it.

Ah, I am honored you'd think of me.

When can I read it?

You know, the pages of this book

were with me when I stormed the beaches of Normandy.

I wrote them in Hitler's death camps

and in the hospital, where I could barely remember my own name.

I don't think I'd be alive if it wasn't for this book.

I'm really flattered, Jerry.

Is it a war story?

No, it's about a troubled kid

during the Christmas holidays.

Well, I know you wanted us to give you some helpful notes on the novel

but the truth is, we both think it has a lot of problems.

I just don't buy Holden.

That's the whole book.

Well, he seems phony, as he would like to say.

He's so negative all the time, it just doesn't feel real.

And your style is too writer-consciousness.

I feel you're trying to be clever on almost every page.

Well, did you at least think it was funny?

Yes, but in a way where I feel the writer is being too witty.

You're making a real name for yourself

and I would hate for this book to throw that goodwill away.

The best note I can give you, is to just

put it in a drawer for a year or two.

- It's that bad? - I'm afraid it is.

I loved it, Jerry, I really did.

Thank God.

But these things are never easy.

What do you mean?

My boss didn't get it.

But I fought for it

and he said he'd be willing to publish

if you did a major re-write.

What does he want re-written?

He doesn't understand Holden..

...what makes him tick, and...I gotta admit

I found him confusing at times.

He hates everything.

And he -- he's always so sarcastic.

Is...is Holden supposed to be crazy?

Are you okay?

Jerry?

Jerry.

No, I've thought about it, and I can't do a re-write.

I won't do it, I'm not gonna change a word.

Holden would never approve.

You might not have to.

What do you mean?

but I sent it to one person, just to test the waters.

- Who? - John Woodburn at Little, Brown.

Well, how was the water?

Hot.

- Very hot. - He -- he liked it?

No, he loved it! He thinks it's an American masterpiece.

He -- he -- he said, "Masterpiece?"

That's what he said.

And, wait, you told him I wouldn't make any changes?

Yes, I told him that that could be a problem, and he still wants

to meet with you to discuss marketing and distribution.

Hold on. Marketing?

We also love this one for the cover.

Holden in his red hunting hat.

I hate it.

So what's wrong with this one?

The reader needs to imagine for themselves

what they want Holden to look like.

What if we just use it for the galleys?

- I think it would be really -- - Unh-unh. No.

I don't want any galleys sent out.

Advance copies are crucial for publicity purposes.

I don't want any publicity.

You don't want any publicity?

No.

I don't care if it's successful

I just want it to be good.

The less attention the book gets

the more the story will affect people.

It won't affect anyone if they don't read it.

This isn't about me or publicity, or reviews.

This is about Holden.

Jerry..

...do you want us to publish this book

or merely to print it?

Because if you just want a printer

then I suggest you type up a few hundred copies

and send them out yourself!

Fine, you can send out galleys for advance reviews.

Thank you, Jerry.

That's very generous of you.

But I don't want to read a single review, so don't send them to me, okay?

Receiving rapturous reviews, the debut novel of J.D. Salinger

is being heralded as the break-out book of the year.

♪ If a body meet a body ♪

♪ Comin' through the rye ♪

♪ If a body kiss a body ♪

♪ Need a body cry?

♪ Every lassie has her laddie ♪

♪ None they say have I ♪

♪ Yet all the lads they smile at me ♪

♪ When comin' through

♪ The rye

♪ And all the lads

♪ They smile at me

♪ When comin' through

♪ The rye

And do you feel peace?

Excuse me. Mr. Salinger?

E -- excuse me.

Um. Uh, I -- I just wanted to talk to you.

I -- I feel like..

...I'm Holden Caulfield.

An -- and I just..

Now, I -- I need

to talk to you a -- about the book.

About Holden.

Why, everything I have to say, I wrote in the book.

But..

...how do you know so much about me?

Well, I -- I don't.

It's a -- it's just a work of fiction.

I'm -- I'm just a fiction writer.

Hey, tha -- thank you for saying hello.

Bu -- but I'm Holden!

Uh.. Um.. Uh..

I -- I'm Holden Caulfield!

You're a phony!

Like everyone else!

Sorry. I didn't want to wake you.

No, no, no. You -- you -- you didn't.

I was always worried you wouldn't

be able to pay your rent.

Now, I gotta worry about

deranged fans attacking you.

You should take your photo off

all those book covers.

I never knew you worried at all.

Since the day you were born.

When I was a boy, I..

I -- I wanted to be a pianist.

I loved playing so much.

But my father was a Rabbi

so he just couldn't understand how I..

...I would be able to support myself

and he -- he forced me to stop playing.

I was upset.

But...I -- I knew he loved me.

He just -- he just wanted me to be okay.

I've never even heard you play.

No.

But I was good.

So..

You're Holden Caulfield, right?

Yeah.

Your mother was right.

You are..

...very talented.

Thank you.

Now, you just gotta write another one even better.

No pressure.

Goodnight, sonny.

I hear people talking about "Catcher"

everywhere I go.

Everyone just loves it.

I'm so excited to read your next book.

I'll be back.

Is your steak okay?

I -- I'm just not very hungry.

Oh. Uh, Could you eat something else, maybe?

No. Excuse me.

You okay?

Yeah, I'm fine.

You know, there's a dinner party going on in there.

Yeah, I'm just a little uncomfortable right now.

It's just a book.

I didn't even like it that much, if you wanna know the truth.

What didn't you like about it?

Well, it was just like all those other phony books.

A lot of whining, and the ending was a lousy bore.

You shouldn't take yourself so seriously, you know.

It's not like you're the first guy to write a hit book.

Wait.

Wait.

Can I get your phone number?

Got a pen?

I got some...paper, too.

What's your name?

- Claire. - Claire.

You're the first person that's ever said they hated it.

To your face.

Thank you.

You have captured the consciousness

of the nation.

You've tapped into the way many feel

and have given a voice to their pain.

I can't go home anymore.

I wrote the book to get over the war.

Now, I feel like I'm going crazy all over again.

Have you not yet learned how to remove distraction?

New Hampshire is really beautiful

this time of year.

It's 90 acres, mostly woods.

The house is modest, but very nice.

There's also a small bunker

that can be converted to a guest house.

- Or an office. - Whatever you want.

I think you'll be really happy here.

I hope so.

An artist's only concern

is to shoot for some kind of perfection.

And on his own terms, not anyone else's.

Excuse me. Mr. Salinger?

Since you write about teenagers

I thought you might be interested in running

a youth group.

I think the kids would love it.

- I would too. - Great!

Yeah. They're right over here. Well..

Yet a real artist, I've noticed

will survive anything.

Jerry?

You invite me all the way out here

and then walk away as soon as you see me?

No. I'm...sorry.

I thought you were one of those crazed Caulfield fans.

You should be so lucky.

Hey, you look beautiful.

What do you think?

It's just as you said in your letters.

It's like the city without the city.

Do you hate it?

I grew up in foster homes, Jerry.

As long as you're here, it's perfect.

Her skin was lovely.

And her features were delicate.

No one could have missed saying

that she was a first-class beauty.

He's overjoyed with his new spiritual life.

And he goes on saying his prayer

and telling everyone he happens to meet

how to say it too.

Hey, Mr. Salinger.

I know you're very private, but I -- I was wondering

if I could interview you for my school newspaper.

They want me to write an article about someone

I admire and, and you'd be perfect.

Well, I stopped doing interviews a while ago.

But for a school paper

I can certainly make an exception.

- Really? - Of course.

The kids at school are gonna love it!

Thank you. Thank you.

Is "Catcher In The Rye" autobiographical?

Sort of.

My boyhood was very much the same as that

of the boy in the book.

You know, I had problems in school

just like he did.

To be honest, it was a great relief telling people about it.

And why do most of your stories center on young people?

Because they're innocent.

And they haven't been destroyed by the world yet.

I guess part of me wishes I could still be that innocent

but I've seen the things I've seen, and..

I know I'll never have that innocence again.

That girl who interviewed you the other day was very pretty.

So?

So, you seem to like pretty, young girls.

Yes, that would

put me in that special classification

known as a man.

Well, I hope you'll still love me when I'm not

a pretty young girl.

Of course I will.

- No. - What?

That interview..

The interview with the girl, it was..

It was printed in the local paper

not the school paper.

- So? - So..

She lied to me, she said it was for the school paper.

- She lied! - It's okay, Jerry.

- It's gonna be okay. - No. I trusted her!

- Now, Jerry, it's okay. - I trusted her!

And she betrayed me! Goddammit!

Even the goddamn children betray me now!

When people become the distraction..

...then, I suppose you remove the people.

There hasn't been a single mention

of me or "Story Magazine" in any of the press.

Not a single mention.

That's because you have no official involvement in the book.

But I published his first story.

I'm the one who convinced him

that Holden Caulfield should be a novel.

Well, you would've been the publisher

of the hottest novel of the year

if you'd published his anthology

like you promised him.

I haven't slept for six months.

And I miss him.

Well, I'm sorry about that.

Lippincott says that they'll publish

an anthology now. Anything he wants.

Everyone wants an anthology.

But we're going with Little, Brown, out of loyalty

although I hate the title.

"Nine Stories." It's such a bore.

Do you think Jerry would write a piece for "Story?"

It doesn't have to be a new piece.

It -- it can be an old story. It -- it -- it's fine.

We're...we're just really struggling.

I already asked him.

He said no.

How can he still be angry with me?

He's a huge success now.

It hasn't been easy on him.

The war made him a better writer

but it really messed him up.

It seems to me, indisputably true

that artists and poets who have a reputation

for producing a great or fine art

have something garishly wrong with them as persons.

A spectacular flaw in character

or an extreme self-centeredness.

And the public's thirst for their next supposed masterpiece

only makes them want to hide from distractions even more.

You've been in that studio for over a week, Jerry.

A week writing about the Glass family!

We're alone here, Jerry!

You can't just leave us alone like this!

We are your family too.

I have no friends here.

I have no one to talk to.

I am all alone.

I'm alone.

He's absolutely unfit for marriage

or anything halfway normal.

It's a sad fact that the end of one story

always seems to grow into the start of a new one.

And the tragedy is there is simply nothing

he can do about it.

Please, you know you're not supposed to bother me in here.

I know.

But you have a phone call, and he says it's important.

Why? Who is it?

Whit Burnett.

No. No, I -- I don't want to talk to him.

You'd think with all that meditation

you'd have learned to forgive by now.

- Hello? - Jerry. Hi.

It's been a long time.

Yes, it has.

Li.. Uh, I never got a chance to tell you

but I just loved "Catcher In The Rye."

Thank you. It was your idea to write it.

Well...it's one thing to have an idea.

It's another thing to execute it, and you did

so brilliantly.

- Thank you. - Ho -- how's life in the country?

- I -- I unders -- - It's fine, Whit.

What can I do for you?

Are you still angry about what happened?

Is that why you called?

No. No, I called because..

Um..

Look, "Story Magazine" is going to do

an anthology of short stories

and since you're our most famous alumni

I...just thought it would be fitting

if -- if you did the introduction for us.

Hello?

Okay.

- O -- okay, what? - Okay, I'll do it.

Really?

Yeah, you sound surprised.

No, no, I'm just thrilled.

I -- I.. Thank you.

Well, thank you for buying my first story.

Well, it was the best $25 I ever spent.

When I was 20, I was a student for a time

in Whit Burnett's short story course up at Columbia.

I often have my doubts

whether any good and conscientious

writing course conductor can humanly do more.

He was there, unmistakably

in the service of the story.

It isn't too quiet for you out here?

No, it's perfect.

But don't you miss the action in the city?

It's just a distraction.

It's all a distraction.

It's important I remove anything

that can interfere with my writing.

Yeah, but don't you have less to write about?

You're so isolated.

I mean, look, I liked "Franny And Zooey."

It's just, it felt a little bit more like

reading a religious textbook than a story.

You always told me to dig deeper.

- Correct? - Yes.

I couldn't have written "Catcher"

without the war.

But now I'm seeking a higher calling

than a boy and his hunting hat.

Wait a minute, Holden changed the country.

There's now young people all over the world

who feel they finally have a voice they never had before.

I know, yes, and they're not afraid

to come here and tell me.

Sometimes, I wish I never wrote it.

I know, it's made me a prisoner here.

I'm shackled by my own creation.

Oh, come on, does it have to be like that?

Yes.

If I want to keep writing, it does.

And that's the only time I feel any sense of peace.

Alright.

It's nice to see you again, but I'm..

...curious why you wanted to come all the way up here

to talk to me.

It's about the introduction you wrote.

Look, I...I loved it.

It's beautiful, I was very flattered.

Well, I'm glad you enjoyed it.

But unfortunately, I can't use it.

- You can't use it? - No.

Because it's not about

"Story Magazine" or the other writers.

It's just about me, and it's just..

...inappropriate to use as an introduction

for an anthology. Why are you laughing?

Ever since we've met, all you've done is reject my writing.

I guess I was foolish to think that would end now.

Well, I never said life as a writer

was going to be easy.

And as always, you were right.

Goodbye, Whit.

Goodbye.

As always, there are

multiple offers for the film rights to "Catcher."

Elia Kazan, Billy Wilder, they both keep calling.

Tell them no. And to stop calling.

It'd never work as a movie.

Why not?

Because I'm the only one that can play Holden.

I'm too old.

Little, Brown called about your next book.

They asked if you were still writing about the Glass family.

They'll take anything.

Literally anything.

There is something I want to talk to you about.

It's actually the reason why

I came back to the city.

What is it?

I don't want to publish anymore.

But people really love to read your stories.

You'll have so many disappointed fans.

Well, writing's.. It's become my religion.

Publishing, it -- it gets in the way

of the meditation.

It corrupts it.

I don't know how to be a husband or a father.

Or even a friend.

All I know is how to be a writer.

If -- if I -- if I can truly do this

if I can dedicate my life to writing

and -- and get nothing in return..

...then I think I can find some happiness.

Then don't publish anymore.

I love you, and I want you to be happy.

And it's like I always said..

Publishing isn't everything.

Dear Whit, so to answer the question you asked me

all those years ago..

Yes.

I am willing to write for the rest of my life

and get nothing in return.

Sincerely yours, J.D. Salinger.