You know, when I became a writer for this website I really didn’t anticipate doing book reports, but here I go. The Catcher in the Rye is trending today, so I need to get my thoughts on this piece of shit novel off my chest. It was awful. It just was. I read it my sophomore year of high school, and I hope my teacher is reading this because the book sucked and she did too.
The book is literally about nothing. We just hear about this dweeb Holden Caufield being all sad and complaining for 277 pages, and this is supposed to be some deep insight into depression and mental health issues. You wanna learn about mental health? Cry yourself to sleep after going 2-13 betting on college basketball. We’ve all been there. That’ll teach you more about depression than Holden’s stupid red hat. I wish that thing caught on fire.
And everyone gets so excited about this stupid coming of age story, where holden experiments with things like drugs, alcohol, and sex. Woah! You know who also experiments with those things? Literally every high schooler ever. So, why do they have to read about some jizzbag trying to do it in the 1950s when they can just watch all of their friends do it literally every single weekend? You think high school kids care about Holden Caulfield trying a cigarette at a nightclub? Bro, these kids are taking breaks from reading the book to go Juul in the bathroom, they’re learning nothing.
But, by far the worst part of this book has to be the absolutely overwhelming amount of motifs and symbols. The red hat, the checkers, the ducks, the museum, I hate them all. Why? Because I’m stupid. If you’re smart enough to pick up on the meaning of all these worthless symbols, god bless ya, but I just think this dumb kid likes checkers. So, I’d really appreciate it if asshole Salinger could just be a little more straightforward and tell me what’s going on instead of hiding the meaning in complete nonsequiturs. Oooooh, his shoelace is untied, he must be suffering from crippling depression! Is he? Alright, why didn’t you just tell me that straight up? Not that I’m smart enough to get the meaning of the story anyway, so I guess I shouldn’t be complaining, but it’s fun to complain about classic literature.
But, in case you couldn’t tell by reading this, I’m not much of a book guy, so the problem’s most likely me. I could literally watch every piece of literature in American history burn to a crisp and feel nothing, but I’d go on a violent rampage if I have to miss a UFC Fight Night, so I’m probably not the best literary critic. But still, my sophomore year English teacher can kick rocks for making me read this garbage. I wish she taught me about investing. Slob.