Would it be a similar symbolic trespass to cross into the realm of Vedanta that was his true secret hideout, into his spiritual Fortress of Solitude in the townhouse? I felt I had a reason this time: The inky sludge of Salinger’s late work made me want to cross the line. Made me want to experience something akin to what drew Salinger to the swamis, a lifelong relationship that began during his recovery from a post-war nervous breakdown that seems from our modern vantage point to be PTSD-related. (He checked himself into a hospital in Nuremberg, Germany, after going through the bloody grind that took him from Normandy to the battle of Hürtgen Forest in Germany.) In “A Perfect Day for Bananafish” we learn that Seymour had a nervous breakdown after his wartime experience, a prelude to his suicide. And then there’s “Sergeant X” in “For Esme With Love and Squalor,” seen suffering PTSD symptoms after fighting his way through the Hürtgen Forest. Whatever it was Salinger found inside the swamis’ townhouse may have eased his suffering, but his late work, it seems to me, suffered from it all. His late work might well be regarded as a casualty of war, literary PTSD. Let me make this clear, I don’t blame the swamis—they may have saved him from Seymour’s fate. I blame whatever happened to this brave and gifted man on account of Hitler. I would, wouldn’t I—I wrote a book called Explaining Hitler. But I think one cannot begin to explain Salinger, solve the enigma of the Silent Years without reference to what happened to him in sacrificing himself to defeat Hitler.
Posted on: Thu, 27 Jun 2013 20:35:27 +0000
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