Jim wrote: > As far as just being a story goes, DDS is well told. But the character > seemed immature and pretentious without that many endearing characteristics. > He seemed to be less self-reflective than some of Salinger's other > characters, lacking (apparently) Zooey and Franny's ability to be self > critical. He seemed somewhat dishonest too at points. You've just named all the reasons why I *like* DDS (: . He is presented as perhaps the young man Salinger once was - arrrogant, know-it-all, but under the surface quite naive and self effacing, and I think the author recognises that fact and like `The Laughing Man' uses the voice of experience to talk about what is to some extent the voice of innocence. The major reason why I feel a distance from the Glass characters is their enormous sense of self-knowledge, which makes me think: well, they know everything, what is there to delve to under the surface? I like the fact that DDS allows us the reader leave to judge what he may have forgotten or misrepresented outside his version of the narrative, in the same way it's quite endearing to hear Holden protest to Sally so many times that he wasn't screaming at all when to the reader he clearly is. Such events beckon us to look over the character's shoulders and take our own perspective on their world. With the Glasses, the message I get is always: this is the truth. This is the official truth. It may not be the truth, but it's the Truth. Maybe what I'm saying is also that DDS is no saint, not by a long shot. What a relief (: It's one of the last times in his career Salinger is covertly self deprecating. > So I liked this story less (it's not one I didn't like at all, but I liked > Down at the Dinghy more, actually) than some other stories, I think it's > definitely far inferior to For Esme. `Down at the Dingy' always mystified me. It's so one-note, so gimmicky, it's like an extended caption for a Saturday Evening Post cover (Ouch! say the Dingy fans (: ) What exactly attracts you to it? Camille verona_beach@hotpop.com