preview

Catcher In The Rye Depression

Good Essays
In The Catcher in the Rye, by J.D. Salinger, readers are introduced to a highly annoying, highly depressed and troublesome soul by the name of Holden Caulfield. Holden is narrating his expulsion from the high-class boarding school, Pencey Prep School for Boys and the events that follow soon after, also the small memories he holds inside of him that mold him into the person he is at the end of the novel. When Holden leaves Pencey Prep. behind and goes off to New York, he takes on the challenge of sex, depression, loneliness and his own impulsiveness. Holden’s past trauma and the tragic incidents around him, are affecting his romantic relationships and are pushing people away from him and leaving him more depressed. Whether it be his relationship…show more content…
All of Holden’s impulsiveness and Depression, can be lead back to July 18th, 1946. Allie’s last battle with Leukemia. When Holden’s roommate, Stradlater, at Pencey goes out on a date, he asks Holden to write a descriptive essay in his notebook about a place or a room. But Holden, writes about a baseball mitt. “The thing was, I couldn't think of a room or a house or anything to describe the way Stradlater said he had to have. I'm not too crazy about describing rooms and houses anyway. So what I did, I wrote about my brother Allie's baseball mitt. It was a very descriptive subject. It really was. My brother Allie had this left-handed fielder's mitt. He was left-handed. The thing that was descriptive about it though, was that he had poems written all over the fingers and the pocket and everywhere. In green ink. He wrote them on it so that he'd have something to read when he was in the field and nobody was up at bat. He's dead now. He got leukemia and died when we were up in maine, on july 18th, 1946.” (38) Holden hates that someone as kind, and as innocent as Allie had to die, that he got the short end of the stick…show more content…
He ends up in a hotel, where he goes into their club, The Lavender Room, gets a little drunk and pays for a prostitute, Sunny. “Ya got a watch on ya?” she said. She didn't care what the hell my name was, naturally. “Hey, how old are you, anyways?” “Me? Twenty-two. “ “Like fun you are. “ It was a funny thing to say. It sounded like a real kid. You'd think a prostitute and all would say “Like hell you are” or “Cut the crap” instead of “Like fun you are. “ “How old are you?” I asked her. “Old enough to know better, “ she said. She was really witty. “Ya got a watch on ya?” she asked me again, and then she stood up and pulled her dress over her head. I certainly felt peculiar when she did that. I mean she did it so sudden and all. I know you're supposed to feel pretty sexy when somebody gets up and pulls their dress over their head, but I didn't. Sexy was about the last thing I was feeling. I felt much more depressed than sexy (...) Then she got up and went over to where she'd put her dress down, on the bed. “Ya got a hanger? I don't want to get my dress all wrinkly. It's brand-clean. “ “Sure,” I said right away. I was only too glad to get up and do something. I took her dress over to the closet and hung it up for her. It was funny. It made me feel sort of sad when I hung it up. I thought of her going in a store and buying it, and
Get Access