Via Sully we read of
a dude's connection to Walker Percy's
The Moviegoer having changed when reading it in his 20s instead of 18:
In the five years since I last read it—the time elapsed between
repetitions—five years’ worth of life has accumulated. Reading my chosen
terms of “family” and “obligation” as thematic signposts is as obvious a
reflection of my present life as “asses” was for my eighteen-year-old
self. If my first reading was an initiation into the narcotic and
transformative powers of reading, this second time is my initiation into
the truth of the repetition. Of time isolated as a variable, its
effects measurable amongst the data of memory.
I read
The Moviegoer about a year ago and felt pretty much nothing about it at all. And I didn't give a shit about
The Confederacy of Dunces either. But I will say that the crown jewel of this sentiment for everybody has to be
The Catcher in the Rye, of course:
Like anyone who was a teenager, The Catcher in the Rye had a hold
on me in my youth. And I still have a warm spot for it, and nothing
stops it from being a really, really good book. But the older I get the
less it means to me. I mean, I've never thought to myself "Gee, I wonder
what Holden Caulfield would do in this situation" as I might with, say,
Tom Joad. At the end of the day, Tom Joad is Paul Westerberg in 1984,
and Holden Caulfield is your average Williamsburg hipster in a
nouveau-rock art fusion no-bass-included Japanese haiku band: for all we
know the last time we read of Tom walking away from Ma is followed by
him getting his head bashed in for not being happy to work for 3 cents a
day; Holden we're fairly certain will simply end up at another private
school for fellow rich kids, and in a few years he will look back on
his melo-dramatic teen years and laugh. Both characters' stories have
merit. But only one actually grows with you the more you experience
actual life.
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