My Review for Catcher in the Rye

(Written sometime in late 2013)

I invented a phrase “cesspool of its own crapulence” that best describes this book in five words, which is very much brief, apt and a thorough recognition of the nauseating effect it had on me and my perception of American literature in general. I wanted to gouge my eyes out every time the pretentious little brat, the protagonist Cauliflower-something said, “I got a bang out of that” or “phony.” Mr. rebellious-little-angsty-teenager got on the very last of my nerves, making me question the moment I decided to read this 200 page something existential debacle. Add to this a shoddy writing style, redundant cussing and the over-hyped inclusion in every “100 books to read before you die” list and you get a magnum opus of Salinger who was probably trying to garner bogus publicity after writing an essay on “About Me” for his 5-year old and getting baked afterwards.

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