This short novel is broken up into two sections, titled Franny and Zooey respectively. Shocking given the title of the book, I know. I think they were originally published separately as a short story and novella. I really liked Franny’s section. If the entire book was like it, my impression of the book might be totally different. But Zooey’s section was probably two thirds of the book, and his section didn’t do it for me.
The book is about a struggle with loss of purpose and searching for meaning. Feeling detached from the world and full of malcontent. Trying to form an identity through trial and error of archetypes. And the egoism of wanting purpose and an individual identity at all. Which should be particularly relatable, but for some reason this fell flat. It all seemed like pretension rather than genuine feeling. I couldn’t relate to how they were navigating through this very common crisis at all. I felt entirely removed, starting almost immediately after Zooey’s section began, which altogether felt too self-important.
I can’t help not liking the way Zooey talked to his mother, though I know it was supposed to be amusing (and occasionally was), but most of the time it just seemed purely and unnecessarily disrespectful. I found Zooey to be ultimately condescending and obnoxious, though I think we were supposed to view him as wise beyond his years and learn something from him, while he and his audience recognized and forgave his faults. I didn’t learn anything from his rambling and I don’t see how Franny did either. I didn’t find him particularly wise, even in relation to Franny.
And I couldn’t get over how the narrator Buddy seemed to idolize himself. He only injected himself into the book once at the start of Zooey’s section, and never actually entered the present action at all, but he made himself a constant mentoring and omniscient presence in a way that felt very self-gratifying.
But let’s go back to what I did like.
I liked the use of italics, though I can see some people might think it’s too heavy-handed. But I thought it lent the dialogue a natural cadence. Or perhaps a specifically archetypical and stylistic one that definitely had me thinking 1950s Italian or Brooklynites. If that wasn’t the intent, I would be very disappointed.
I did genuinely enjoy Franny’s section. As a standalone short story, it’s very good. I don’t think Salinger should have attached the contrivance that is Zooey’s section and tainted it.
And some quotes I liked:
“Everything everybody does is so—I don’t know—not wrong, or even mean, or even stupid necessarily. But just so tiny and meaningless and—sad-making. And the worst part is, if you go bohemian or something crazy like that, you’re conforming just as much as everybody else, only in a different way.”
“cleverness was my permanent affliction, my wooden leg, and that it was in the worst possible taste to draw the group’s attention to it. As one limping man to another, old Zooey, let’s be courteous and kind to each other.”
“I do like him. I’m sick of just liking people. I wish to God I could meet someone I could respect”
