Ray Loriga article in Salinger's death.
No introduction
has died without having been presented, hidden in the legend, visible only in writing. As strange and as close as Seymour told by a younger brother, as a sandwich hidden in a pocket, such as tennis rackets two teenage friends but rivals. Has died without saying more than what he said, as the fish banana, wrapped in the paradox of living and telling. Sophisticated and family, devastating and intermittent, and slightly Japanese.
Beyond The Catcher in the Rye, wrote wonders point that were attached to the uncanny ability of writing to accompany the experience not supplant, independent artifacts, sensible models. Literature is not metaphorical, nor overwhelmed by the voice, elegant and precise, and without offense itself, may perfect. Y it was always like that. A huge effort so well hidden that certainly deserves the glory.
His family is any, on the other side of your window is the park that do not always see. What the duck in the winter no one falls. The mystery
Salinger never know anything but what he told us and it's probably not much more to know. His influence is enormous, his path, impossible to follow. Nothing happens, there is no one who walks right in the footsteps of Thomas Hardy. The tricky thing is to get a script to be closer to his size, from any of the paths chosen. That path in the snow as he showed, hides nothing more than a man's footsteps alone.
Beyond The Catcher in the Rye, wrote wonders point that were attached to the uncanny ability of writing to accompany the experience not supplant, independent artifacts, sensible models. Literature is not metaphorical, nor overwhelmed by the voice, elegant and precise, and without offense itself, may perfect. Y it was always like that. A huge effort so well hidden that certainly deserves the glory.
His family is any, on the other side of your window is the park that do not always see. What the duck in the winter no one falls. The mystery
Salinger never know anything but what he told us and it's probably not much more to know. His influence is enormous, his path, impossible to follow. Nothing happens, there is no one who walks right in the footsteps of Thomas Hardy. The tricky thing is to get a script to be closer to his size, from any of the paths chosen. That path in the snow as he showed, hides nothing more than a man's footsteps alone.
http://www.elpais.com/articulo/cultura/introduccion/elpepicul/20100129elpepicul_3/Tes
*** And my tribute, in Rest Area.
