He died the way he lived. As a recluse.
J. D. Salinger is dead. I suppose I'm bummed because Salinger is literally the only writer by whom I have read every single published word (do so yourself here because most of it is not in print). I am even more bummed because this means someone is seriously plotting to get the movie rights to The Catcher In The Rye and they are considering Shia LeBouf or Michael Cera for the role.
I guess this is good news because all of the stuff he had been writing for the last forty years can finally get released to the public.
I guess this is good news because all of the stuff he had been writing for the last forty years can finally get released to the public.
posted by Dave at 7:47 PM
2 Comments:
His skin—and hers—had already sprouted beads of oily lubrication to ease the grinding of bodies. With one last pat on Erikins arm, she left them to climb the staircase alone. She shook her head. Didnt matter that only Lanthan was touching her. His hands were comforting weights on her shoulders, helping her to ground. Our work is done here. He pulled her from Gala into his own embrace. Maybe they didnt feel anything for her anymore. Eyrhaen took a deep breath, chiding herself not to be weak. She couldnt do this anymore. She stepped back again. She found her own breath finally, staring up at him. Brevin cupped her chin with one strong hand. Hadnt he seen that Tykir just took her pussy? She gasped, stiffening when Brevin lost patience and thrust hard from underneath. While it was always nice, it never before gave her a physical reaction. He shared in her laughter, and she gloried at how easy it was. Sex is one thing —which he very well knew— actual children is another. His strange eyes shone but didnt swirl.
I'm going to allow this but only because there are no links. Also, it shows how much of a better writer Salinger was.
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