While thinking about the natural history museum, Holden of The Catcher in the Rye muses, “Certain things they should stay the way they are. You ought to be able to stick  them in one of those big glass cases and just leave them alone” (122). Unfortunately for Holden, the world is not a natural history museum, unchanging, preserved in glass cases. It has to change—and so does Holden, even though he can’t stand the thought.
    Holden shares a sentiment with many young people: he doesn’t want to grow up, and in many ways, he’s still a child. To him, the world is better as a child—more innocent, more sincere, and much less complicated. He even remarks to Phoebe that he wants to be “the catcher in the rye,” catching children before they fall off the “cliff” to adulthood (173). He’s at his happiest in the book when he’s sitting in the rain, watching Phoebe riding the carousel, after reassuring her that she isn’t too old for it.
    This is the way in which I most connect to Holden. I, too, long for the simpler world of childhood and carousels. I’m fearful of leaving the rye and falling off that cliff into the adult world. In a few months, I’ll be living on my own, in the city, away from my family and outside the bubble of my hometown. In many ways, this will be exhilarating—but in many ways, it will also be frightening.
    Neither Holden nor I can keep from growing up, though—we are not Peter Pan, and we don’t live in the natural history museum. We have to be thrust into the adult world, whether we’re ready or not.  And that, I think, is the
saddest part of The Catcher in the Rye—Holden desperately wants to avoid change, but there’s no way he can.

           Going into this book, I didn’t expect to like Holden Caulfield. Having heard about the book from others, my impression of Holden was a dropout with a bad attitude. I quickly realized, though, that Holden is far more complex—and far more likeable—than that.
           One of the things I like most about Holden is his aversion to “phonies.” He despises the fake nature of the world around him and wishes people could be genuine. I, too, value sincerity. I don’t like when people put on airs or pretend to be someone they’re not. I don’t like superficial conversations or cliché movies. Like Holden, I want meaning.
           I also admire Holden’s caring side (although it’s often masked). When he meets two nuns in a café, he gives them ten dollars, talks with them, and later thinks of them when asked about “the one thing he likes a lot” (170). He deeply misses his brother Allie and reveres his ten-year-old sister Phoebe. He’s extremely protective of Jane and starts a fight with Stradlater, whom he knows is stronger than him, when he thinks Stradlater “gave her the time” in the back of Ed Banky’s car. He even cares about the ducks in Central Park.
           Yet this gentle nature is often hidden by Holden’s standoffish exterior. He’s self-conscious about the fact that he’s “yellow” and “hates fistfights” (89-90). This actually reminded me of the documentary Tough Guise. Holden is a perfect example of the point made in that documentary—he’s forced to act tougher and more “manly” than he is because the world won’t accept him otherwise. This statement can be applied to all of Holden's personality: he doesn't fit in with others his age, but he's being forced to.

    When I decided to read The Catcher in the Rye, I was skeptical as to whether or not I would like it. My sister didn’t like it; my dad recently read it and despised it. It’s such a classic and well-known book, though, that I decided to try it.
           I actually like it so far. The most surprising thing is that I like the writing style. I’m not usually a fan of stream-of-consciousness writing, but Catcher is different. The writing is very conversational, which I like—it feels like Holden is sitting across from me, telling his story.
           The thing I’m enjoying the most, though, is Holden’s attitude. Although Catcher isn’t a happy book, I’m amused by Holden’s sarcastic, witty remarks—things like “She had a nice voice. A nice telephone voice. She should’ve carried a damn telephone around with her” (54). This tone is what has kept me engaged, despite my usual aversion to writing styles like Salinger’s. It looks like I’m going to break the mold by, unlike the rest of my family, actually liking Catcher in the Rye.