there is, and perhaps this may come across as not entirely kind, an essence to jd salingers writing that i cannot help but find completely and directly detestable--as if perhaps it were sent by someone, and a strange someone, not a known, comfortable someone, who hates the very nature of writing and wishes for nothing more than all readers on this pale blue dot we call our home planet to surffer.

 tldr this book was MID and i wish i could achieve a place in the literary canon purely by puking words onto a page. that being said it was mid not bad and i think both stories are strong if a bit insufferable.