All language subtitles for Rebel.in.the.Eye.2017.LIMITED.1080p.BluRay.x264-GECKOS-eng

Dear Whit.

I regret to inform you that
Holden Caulfield is dead.

I know you thought he could protect me.

Or at the very least give
me refuge from my sarcasm.

But Holden is gone forever.

And I don't know if
anything can save me now.

Oh, where's your girl, Jerry?

Where'd she go?

- Ah, she wanted to
dance with her brother.

That's a tight family.

- You know, the Lusitania
making it to England

is more hopeful than getting
laid at this rat trap.

Oh, I don't know.

Spoiled rich girls
love college dropouts.

They're all dying to tell their fathers,

"He's not only broke,
Daddy, he's also a Jew."

Hey, half Jew.

Why do we keep coming here?

I can't stand all
these flits and phonies.

To give girls like that the time.

Who is that?

Oona O'Neill.

What, as in Eugene O'Neill?

That's her dad.

Rumor is she's got a thing for writers.

- Maybe I can get her drunk
and read her one of my stories.

The drunk part, yes.

Not so sure about the second.

I've read your work.

You're a real prince of a guy.

Who are the bodyguards?

Blythe Chaucer and Carol Flourentine.

Her protectors from morphine addicts

and boys without trust funds.

You even try to give Oona the time,

they'll take your watch away.

Okay.

I'm going in.

Ladies, Oona.

Hello.

It's a pleasure to meet you.

I'm Jerome David Salinger.

My friends call me Jerry.

- It's a pleasure to meet
you, Jerome David Salinger.

I'm a huge admirer of your father.

I'm a writer myself, and his plays

have been a great source
of inspiration to me.

What do you write?

I write short stories.

Really?

Have you been published?

Come on, Oona.

I want to introduce
you to Billy Chandler.

He's here?

He is.

Oh, right now?

Oh.
- Great.

Let's go.

- Until me meet again,
Jerome David Salinger.

Come on, Oona doll.

Billy.

- Excuse me, sir, do you
happen to know the time?

That went well.

Through the course

of my fascinatingly dull
life I've always found fiction

so much more truthful than reality.

And yes, I'm aware of the irony.

He had neither the looks,
personality, or good clothes

to gain Shirley's interest.

He didn't have a chance.

And as I said before,
to write a really good

boy meets girl story it's wise

to have the boy meet the girl.

- I can't concentrate with
you staring at me like that.

Well do you like it?

It's really good.

You can tell me the truth.

I am.

It's terrific.

Tie your shoes, sonny.

So what do you think, Mom?

- I love the kids, I
love the way they talk.

- Yeah, 'cause in the slicks
the teens always sound phony

because they're written
by 50 year old drunks.

You know, it just kills me.

Well, you're really talented.

I think I want to try to publish.

How would you do that?

- I want to go back to
school, study creative writing.

You what?

You get kicked out of
every school I send you to

because of that smart
alec mouth of yours.

How do you possibly believe

you could be a professional writer?

I don't know.

I just like doing it.

He's very talented, Sol.

- Even if he is, it's
impossible to make

a living at it even for
the best of students.

You're not even a good student.

I can't do anything right.

Sonny, sonny, come here, sit down.

It's all right, please.

I, I just don't want
you to be disappointed

when it doesn't work out.

And it won't.

It never does.

Listen to me.

Meat and cheese distribution

has been very good to this family.

Six years ago Buddy Richmond
was practically broke.

He buys a slaughterhouse and
now he's king of the bacon.

That could be you, sonny boy.

Jerry is not going to sell cheese,

or pigs, or cows, or milk.

He is not going to be
the king of the bacon.

He is going to go to Columbia.

He is going to study writing.

That's what Jerry is going to do,

and you are going to pay for it.

I bet if I never walked

into your class that
day then Holden Caulfield

probably wouldn't even exist.

So in a way this whole mess

is as much your fault as it is mine.

There is nothing more sacred than story.

The Bible, the Quran, the Torah,

the stories contained in
these books are so powerful

that people actually believe
they were written by a God.

That is the power that a story can hold.

And in the course of this semester

you will be given the
tools and the techniques

to be able to create your own stories

so that you can
enrapture people, move...

I was always a lousy student,

even when I wanted to be there.

It was pretty embarrassing,
if you want to know the truth.

How does that sound, Mr. Salinger?

I'm so sorry, you lost me at Bible.

Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. Salinger.

Did you think that this
course was a study in atheism?

No, no, I didn't.

But I'm hoping there really is a god

that'll give you something
interesting to say.

Funny, I had the same thought

when I read your admissions essay.

Although they still let you in.

It must be a very
lean year for Columbia.

Mr. Salinger wrote an essay, very funny,

brimming with exactly
the sort of sarcasm

that he so beautifully displayed here

in the first five minutes of the course.

And yet after that Mr. Salinger failed

to turn that clever voice of
his into an actual narrative.

Which is a shame, because
there is some potential there.

But this is the work we will
all be striving to achieve.

And by the end of this
semester, God willing,

or in Mr. Salinger's case, unwilling,

you will all understand the difference

between wanting to be a
writer and actually being one.

My countrymen and my friends.

I had hoped against
hope that some miracle

would prevent a
devastating war in Europe

and bring to an end the
invasion of Poland by Germany.

I have said many times that I
have seen war and I hate war.

I hope the United States
will keep out of this war.

I believe that it will.

Oh Mr. Salinger.

Come in, have a seat.

Would you like a drink?

Coffee, please.

So, how did you find me here?

Oh, I used to go to NYU and I always

saw you grading papers in the window.

Hey, why do you come all
the way down to the Village?

- I couldn't think of a
better place to read the work

of the next Fitzgerald or Hemingway

than right here in Greenwich Village.

Sir.

Thank you.

What about you?

What happened at NYU?

They kick you out for
that mouth of yours?

No, it was a mutual understanding.

They wanted me gone
and I wanted them dead.

Well you're not the first

wise ass I've taught, you know?

You act out at authority figures like me

because you're emotionally
repressed at home.

You also think you're the cleverest boy

that ever walked the planet

and no one recognizes
what a genius you are.

It's pretty typical stuff,
if you want to know the truth.

But enough of my dime store Freud.

What can I do for you, Mr. Salinger?

Well, I wanted to ask about

what you talked about in class.

You know, my voice
overwhelming the story.

I always thought my voice is
what defines me as a writer.

Absolutely.

Your voice is what
makes your story unique.

But when that voice
overwhelms the story,

as it did in your admissions essay,

then it becomes an
expression more of your ego

than of the emotional
experience of the reader.

Does that make sense?

Kind of.

Kind of.

No.

I'd apologize for being late.

But since I'm going to be late

for every single class this semester

I'm going to instead save my strength

for the reading of your
pages and heavy drinking.

Now today I want to focus
on the writer's voice.

And to illustrate this I'm going to

read a passage to you
from William Faulkner.

All right now I want
you to listen carefully.

In fact, close your eyes.

The jailer cut her down
and then revived her.

Then he beat her and whipped her.

She had hung herself with her dress.

All right, so, what happened?

A woman in jail tried to commit suicide.

And after the jailer
saved her, he beat her.

Exactly.

This is why I let
women audit my classes.

Hopefully the rest of the
university will soon follow suit.

All right now, I read this passage

in as dull a voice as
I could possibly muster,

and yet you were still
all engaged by the passage.

Why?

Because the events of
the story were compelling,

thematically layered, and dramatic.

Now of course Faulkner
is famous for his voice

with its unique regional style.

And so therefore even the non-writer

thinks that they love Faulkner.

But in fact it is the
events of the story,

the attempted suicide, the
beating that draws us in.

And then Faulkner uses his voice

to make the story uniquely his own.

Does that make sense?

For our next class I want you all

to write a five page story.

Ask yourselves, if I were
to read this in a monotone

would I still keep the class' attention?

Okay, well I'm really not going to do

any better than that
today, so that's it.

You can use the rest of the time

to write your story or masturbate.

Just try not to confuse
the former with the latter.

God knows there's many an author

who has failed at that very task.

Have a good weekend.

See you later, children.

The one good thing about being stuck

in a nuthouse is everyone here

is in the same lousy shape as I am.

Truth be told, I never really fitted

anywhere in the whole goddam world.

Uptown I was a Jew,
downtown I was a square.

But on occasion I could fool the girls

into thinking I was
Clark Gable's cousin.

Bravo, bravo.

Keep giving 'em hell, Ernie.

You know what?

I actually think I keep on
getting kicked out of school

'cause I love how much
it pisses my father off.

That's hilarious.

You need to go with that.

You should write your story about that.

Nah.

You got your watch on?

Yes, why?

- 'Cause you need to
give that girl the time.

Yes I do.

Hi.
- Hi.

So you like jazz?

What do you think?

- So um, what do you do
most of the time on weekends?

I don't know.

What do you do most of
the time on weekends?

This and that.

This and that?

I know that's code for
sowing your wild oats.

Sow your wild oats?

Sorry, I don't follow.

Oh please.

Chase around, Joe College.

"Sow the wild oats?

"I don't think I get your drift."

"You know, chase around, Joe College."

Suddenly from the other side of the room

a small blonde shrieked with laughter.

Yes, it was very good.

Your voice was present and entertaining.

But it helped tell the
story, it didn't become it.

I felt it.

You know, I could tell when something

I wrote was too clever.

Was it true?

Some of it.

Some I made up.

Well you know what we call that?

What?

Writing.

So how do I get it published?

Well that's a bit ambitious

for your first outing, don't you think?

A real writer publishes, right?

That's the only way
to make a living at it.

- Oh wait, let me guess,
your father told you that.

Well why don't you try the New Yorker?

I'm sure that would impress him.

I was actually thinking Story Magazine.

I love their pieces.

Do you know who the editor of Story is?

Yeah, you.

And on behalf of Story

I would like to thank
you for your submission.

Unfortunately we're going
to decline at this time.

But we do look forward to
reading your future submissions.

Mr. Salinger, you're about to learn

the second most important lesson

in having a career as a writer.

Learning to deal with rejection.

- Well I'm going straight
to the New Yorker,

and they're going to publish it,

and you're going to be sorry.

I already am.

Hi, I'm here to submit...

Submit a short story?

Fill this out.

Leave your story.

We'll get back to you
in four to six weeks.

- It's the first story
I've ever submitted.

Well that's a historic day for us all.

What's the J.D. stand for?

It's juvenile delinquent.

Don't write that.

- And I want those
rewrites before next week.

And do not get used to the idea

of me staying for each class.

My dinner plans canceled.

Oh, it's your first rejection letter.

You have to get that framed.

So what do I do now?

You're a writer.

What do you think you do now?

Write another story?

- Yes, and then write
another one after that.

And then another one after that.

Okay.

And then another one after that!

Perhaps my dreams of literary triumph

were the delusions of an egotistical

and overly ambitious boy
who should have listened

when he was offered the chance
to be the king of the bacon.

I could have been a king, Whit.

I don't know if I'm cut out for this.

Yeah, maybe you're not.

You don't think I am?

Well, let me ask you a question.

Why do you want to do this?

Publish?

No.

Be a writer.

Why do you want to write?

- Because I, I get angry
about a lot of things.

And when I'm writing I feel
like I'm doing something

about it, like I'm finally
getting to speak my mind.

You see, Jerry, this is what you need

to be doing in your writing.

Explore what it is that makes you angry

and then put that into a story.

No, no, no, but here's the catch.

You still may never publish.

Never?

Nope.

You may spend the rest of
your life being rejected.

And now you have to
ask yourself a question.

Are you willing to devote
your life to telling stories

knowing that you may
get nothing in return?

And if the answer to
that question is no,

well then you should go out there

and find yourself something
else to do with your life

because you are not a true writer.

Good day, thank you very much.

No, no, no, no, take
your rejections with you.

Would you look at this place?

It's beautiful.

You'll find something
else you like to do, sonny.

You'll see.

And it'll be something you
can actually make a buck at.

- Try not to worry about
anything this week, dear.

It's a vacation and you should relax.

- She had immense
eyes that always seemed

in danger of capsizing
in their own innocence.

She was with a small boy,
unmistakeably her brother.

And it was only when
his sister spoke to him

that he came around and applied

the small of his back to his chair.

Now there are two kinds of femme fatale.

The noise of young people she'd invited.

Sewing, mastering crossword puzzles.

Her father's scotch was inadequate.

Inside somebody up turned up...

- Jerry, your sister didn't
drive all the way up here

to watch you write in
a lobby for five days.

Now, put that away and
come with us for a stroll.

I will in one hour.

I'm almost done, okay?

- What makes you think you
have anything to say to people?

Grow up.

- Oh Jerry, would you
hang back for a minute.

Now that you have made a
true commitment to your craft,

I think it's time.

Time for what?

For you to be published.

In?

This is the first damn story I gave you.

Oh, I loved it right away.

I just had to be sure
you were a real writer

before I published it.

So, this is your first
check as a real writer.

Thank you.

Thank you so much.

You're welcome.

Now go write another story.

- To publishing.
- To publishing.

So, your old man finally impressed?

No.

When I showed him the check he told me

I could finally afford
a suit to get a real job.

To hell with him.

He's just jealous because
you're a paid writer.

He's nothing but a lousy Jew pig seller.

Do you know he hides the fact

that he's Jewish from our neighbors?

Always has.

The first phony I ever met
was on the clay I was born.

What the hell are they doing?

The Stork Club advertises

that Oona comes here 'cause of her dad.

But they only photograph
her drinking milk

because she's underage.

- That could be the most
pathetic thing I've ever seen.

All right, that's my cue.

I'm going in.
- Ooh.

Oona.

Mm.

- It's so lovely to see
you again, Carol, Blythe.

I'm Blythe.

Great.

If you don't mind I'm going to give

the most beautiful girl
in the world a twirl.

Oh, all right.

I read your piece in Story.

You read Story?

I read everything.

What did you think?

I thought it was marvelous.

No, it was simply marvelous.

Thank you.

You're without a doubt the most
special girl I've ever seen.

- And you're very handsome,
Jerome David Salinger.

What do you think?

I love it.

Yeah?

Yeah, how long have you lived here?

Just a few months.

But I don't think I'll
be here much longer.

Why, where are you going to go?

Hollywood.

If I want to get into pictures

that's the place to be, right?

Well, I used to want to be an actor.

Really?

But I hate Hollywood.

It's a bunch of driving jerks

making crap for
knuckleheads that can't read.

You're funny.

And you're so talented.

I love talent.

Don't go to California.

Why?

I think it's better if you stay here,

stay here and do theater.

Have you asked your dad to
put you in any of his plays?

Mm-mm.

Why?

I guess, we don't speak very often.

Um, I'm sorry I didn't.

It's all right.

You know, I haven't seen him

since I was a little girl actually.

You know, I don't know
why he doesn't love me.

I never did anything wrong.

My dad doesn't love me either.

I should, I should,
I should probably go.

Jerry.

No, it's...

Jerry, you don't have to.

If I get back to my writing

I could get a lot done tonight.

Okay.

Um,

do you want to go dancing Friday?

Yes.

Yes?

Yes, I'd love to.

All right, me too.

Okay.

- Good.
- Okay.

That's the thing about girls.

Every time they do something pretty

you fall half in love with them.

And then you never know
where the hell you are.

- Jerry, Jerry, Jerry,
hang in there, my love.

I know it can be a slog

but you've got to stick
out these dry spells.

Everyone loves the writing.

I get terrific feedback
every time I submit you.

Well that's terrific, but I haven't

had a story published in eight months.

- Well, have you thought
about writing something

with a little more pop to
it, most Post than New Yorker.

No, I hate the Post.

It's a bunch of sentimental crap.

I know.

I want to be a New Yorker writer.

- And you will be, but
it's never easy, my love.

There's no harm in dumbing
it down once in a while.

We've just got to get
you published again.

Publishing is everything.

- I don't even know what
I should write about.

Oh Jerry.

First of all, you need to relax.

You're not going to do
better work being so stressed.

Take that pretty girlfriend
of yours on a date.

Have some fun.

How's it going with her?

Hey, Pearl.

I'm sorry, Jerry, but Oona isn't here.

She left for the Hamptons this morning.

She did what?

We had a date.

You know Oona.

Yeah, okay, thanks.

Maybe I'm just not capable

of experiencing
happiness like the fellow

that works at a lousy job

and has a pretty wife and
a bunch of stupid kids.

Maybe I didn't lose my mind at all.

Maybe I never had it in the first place.

You should get out of here, kid.

He made his way into the men's room

and filled both
washbowls with cold water.

"You want a towel, fella?"
asked the piano player.

"Not me," said Holden.

"Why don't you go home, kid?"

Holden Caulfield went on drinking.

Hello, it's me, Jerry Salinger.

I just want to speak to Oona.

She's asleep.

Why are you calling so late?

"This is me, Holden Caulfield.

"Can I speak to Sally, please?"

I just want us to be together.

It doesn't have to be anything serious.

It doesn't have to be anything serious?

I don't want anything serious, no.

Jerry, you just said otherwise.

I, don't twist my words.

You are just, you know what you are?

You're just such a phony.

- No, I'm not a phony.
- You are.

You're just...
- Go to hell.

Oona.

What?

Oona, can I call you tomorrow?

His teeth chattering violently,

Holden Caulfield stood on the corner

and waited for the Madison Avenue bus.

It was a long wait.

No, we didn't order champagne.

I did.

I asked you here so we could celebrate.

Ah, celebrate what?

I have some exciting news.

The New Yorker read Slight
Rebellion Off Madison,

and they want to publish it.

The New Yorker?

- Yes, they love your
Holden Caulfield character.

They feel he's completely original.

I'm so happy for you, Jerry.

The New Yorker, I can't believe it.

Well believe it, my love.

To publishing.

It really is everything.

Now they have a couple of notes

that they want you to address.

Notes?

Yes.

All writers have to go through
this with every magazine.

And the New Yorker has
more notes than most.

They want all their stories

to have a New Yorker signature to them.

What if I don't want to do the notes?

- They told me their
problems with the story.

Should I tell you?

- Sure, sure, okay,
tell me their problems.

First off, they think Holden's drinking

comes out of nowhere.

They want it to be
clearer he's an alcoholic.

No, he's not an alcoholic.

He's just getting drunk

because he's depressed about the girl.

Well, they think that's unclear.

I don't.

I think that's perfectly clear.

- Well maybe you can
make a slight adjustment

so it's not confusing for some people.

Also they think it would
be nice if in the end

Holden and Sally got back together.

They specifically said
we don't need to see it.

We just want the reader

to have a sense that they'll end up...

But they don't end up together.

That's not what happens.

Why not?

Because people don't end up together.

It usually doesn't work out.

Okay, I know in every goddam
story in every goddam magazine

the couple always falls
in love with a stupid kiss

to make us feel all warm and fuzzy

and full of Christmas cheer.

But that's not what
happens in real life.

Someone always gets their heart broken

and has a hard time getting over it.

Sometimes they drink
because they're upset,

even though they're not alcoholics.

I just want my writing to
be truthful, that's all.

So what would you like me to tell them?

Tell them I'm very open to notes,

but Holden's not an alcoholic

and they don't end up together.

Those are the only notes, Jerry.

- Well tell them I
won't make those changes.

You're so talented.

Give Oona a little twirl?

So get this.

I told Oona about the New Yorker.

And?

We've already been out three times.

To the New Yorker.

The New Yorker.

Did they have any notes?

Who?

The New Yorker.

Did they have any notes on the story?

No.

Well I'm not surprised they loved it.

That Holden character is fantastic.

It's exactly what I've been telling you

about digging deeper.

- Yeah, yeah, I felt it
when I was writing him.

It just flowed out of me.

I want to keep writing
stories about him.

You should.

Well.

Another.

You okay there, boss?

- Well, between you and me,
things aren't great at Story.

Money is tight.

I mean, Martha watches
the finances and me.

Apparently I'm still
spending too much money.

You'll have to shut it down?

No, no, we'll be all right for now.

But it's been tough on us.

I got an eye.

I can spot talent coming a mile away.

Saroyan, Cheever, Caldwell,
I discovered them all.

Of course, it would be nice
if somebody discovered me.

Hey, come on, you've been published.

I not only discovered them,

I shaped them, I challenged them.

This is me.

You should continue
to write about Holden,

but not as a short story.

Well, hang on, wait, wait, wait, wait.

What do you mean?

I think Holden Caulfield is a novel.

No, no, I couldn't write a whole novel.

I'm a dash man, not a miler.

You only say that because you're lazy.

Holden Caulfield deserves an
entire book all on his own.

A novel's a lot of words.

It's just more words.

Imagine the book that
you would want to read

and then go write it.

Hey, Mom, what's wrong?

Mom.

Hey, what is it, what's happened?

We interrupt this broadcast

to bring you this important
bulletin from the United Press.

We have witnessed this morning
the attack of Pearl Harbor

and the severe bombing of Pearl Harbor

by army planes, undoubtedly Japanese.

It's no joke, it's a real war.

I don't care what you say.

I'm sending you socks every week

and you had better wear them.

Please, you'll embarrass me.

They're going to supply
everything I need and...

- Everyone, can I have
your attention please?

As you all know, tomorrow morning

our son Jerry is going off to war.

Perhaps this will turn him into the man

I know he's destined to become.

And I would like to propose a toast

to the best student I've ever had.

To Jerry, a wonderful writer,

an inspiration, and a great friend.

To Jerry.

- This may not be the best
timing but I have some bad news.

Really, what?

The New Yorker isn't going to run

the Holden Caulfield story.

Why not?

They think it's too frivolous

now that we've entered the war.

I'm sorry, Jerry.

No, it's fine.

Promise you'll wait for me.

I promise.

Really?

Of course, Jerry.

Well, she is an actress.

Hey, hey, mark my words.

I will marry that girl.

Well it's a good thing her father's

a comedy writer.

- Anyway, how's everything
at the home front with you?

You good with Martha chewing your ear?

Everything at my home is fine.

Yeah?

- Because what you'll
learn about having a wife

is that occasionally she just
has to yell to feel better.

Oh, and by the way, I'm awfully
sorry about the New Yorker.

How'd you know about that?

Oh please.

They canned the Caulfield story

because you wouldn't
take any of their notes.

You know, you cannot
be a pain in the ass

until you're a success.

Yeah?

Well to hell with the New Yorker.

You know what?

I'll put it in an anthology
with other short stories...

- No, no, no, don't
do that, don't do that.

Don't do that to Holden Caulfield.

He deserves a novel.

You really think so?

I know so.

He's a fantastic character.

Listen to me.

While you're over there, you know,

getting clap from all those
French whores, do me a favor.

I want you to write about him.

I want Holden Caulfield
to be your best friend.

And listen to me.

Stay alive, all right?

Stay alive.

No matter what.

After I enlisted in the army

I bounced from base to base

until they finally
shipped me off to England.

I knew army food would be bad,

but they'd promised us a steak dinner

the night before the big invasion.

I just couldn't start
the Caulfield novel.

That's why I kept
sending you short stories

for the anthology I was writing instead.

I had never written
anything so personal.

That's why he was a
first person character.

I didn't want to begin Holden's
story because I was scared

I wouldn't live long
enough to finish it.

Hey, Jerry, how's your girlfriend?

I wish they'd all just forget about it.

Bye, lover boy.

Come on, Jer.

You're the first guy to ever get dumped

on the front page of every
newspaper in the country.

It's pretty nuts.

Chaplain's old enough to be her father.

Well, what can I say?

Everyone loves that little tramp.

- And a scandal that
has rocked the nation.

The biggest movie star in
the world, Charlie Chaplain

has married the 18 year old daughter

of famed playwright Eugene O'Neill,

who has declared that she
has finally met her true love.

It's just more words.

"Holden Caulfield," she said.

"It's marvelous to see you.

"It's been ages."

She had one of those very
loud embarrassing voices

when you met her somewhere.

She got away with it because
she was so damn good looking

that it always gave
me a pain in the ass.

"It's swell to see ya," I said.

I meant it too.

"How are ya anyway?"

"Grand," she said.

If there's one word I hate it's grand.

It's so phony.

This is a momentous hour

in world history, D-Day.

The men of General Dwight D. Eisenhower

are fighting their way up
the beaches in fire and blood

into the fortress of Nazi Europe.

Casualties in this mammoth operation

may reach a dreadful toll.

I had stormed Normandy

with six chapters in my bag.

And I'd be lying if I didn't tell ya

Holden got me through some rough spells.

He gave me something to focus on

when things weren't going so hot.

That's one of the things
I loved most about writing.

Your mind keeps on
working on your stories

whether you've got a pen
or a gun in your hand.

It just never stops creating.

You okay?

You've got to help me, just help me.

Hey, hey.

- I did everything I
could to keep on writing.

I really did.

No pen, no typewriter.

To hell with them.

I kept on telling Holden's story,

even if it was only to myself.

- If I get pneumonia
then I'll probably die.

There'll be millions
of jerks at my funeral.

Jerry, Jerry.

You're going to be all right, okay?

All right?

You've just got to warm up a bit, okay?

Come on, here we go.

All right.

Hey, hey, you just gotta warm up, okay?

I brought the socks your mom sent you?

She's a smart lady, Jer.

All right, take 'em.

Keep you warm, all right, okay?

I'm not going anywhere.

Jerry?

Jerry, can you hear me?

Jerry, I want you to look at me.

Could you look at me, Jerry?

Jerry, squeeze my hand
if you can hear me.

- I'm truly sorry you
wasted all that time on me.

But you gotta believe
me when I tell you,

I have nothing left to say.

About Holden Caulfield or
anything else for that matter.

Sincerely yours, Jerry Salinger.

He's here.

Is he still crazy?

Ssh.

Welcome home, sonny.

All the way home from Germany.

Hi Mom.

Doris.

Jerry.

Uh, this is my wife, Sylvia.

This is my mom, Miriam.

That's my sister, Doris.

And that's my father, Sol.

Hello.

Sonny, you were interrogating
Nazis after the war?

Yeah, we were trying to find out

where the Nazis were hiding.

That sounds exciting.

So Sylvia, what do you do?

She's a rodeo clown.

It's a joke.

- I'm a thermologist by
trade, before the war.

When did you two get married?

About six months ago.

- Oh, that's when you stopped
responding to our letters.

- Well I haven't written
a word in over a year.

- Well, I hope you're going
to write stories again.

- Maybe after Whit publishes
the Young Folks anthology.

It's the only reason why I came home.

And to see all of you.

Most of these I wrote
before I went to Europe,

and a few I wrote during the war.

And what about the Caulfield novel?

Where are you with that?

About halfway.

- When do you think
you're going to finish?

Just, I can't work on it anymore.

Why not?

It brings back too many memories.

I want to forget it all.

- Well, have you written
anything since you got back?

I tried.

I just can't do it.

Well, we'll publish your anthology

and I'll bet before long you'll
be back at that typewriter.

Hope so.

I'm not getting enough sleep
so it's hard to concentrate.

And sometimes I wake
up and I'm screaming.

- These are all very common post
- war symptoms, Jerry, okay?

And have you been painting at all?

- No, no, 'cause I'm not
a painter, I'm a writer.

Yes, yes of course, writer.

And no.

With the nightmares I just,

sometimes I have flashbacks of
the camps during the day too.

It's almost like I'm there.

I can smell.

Is there anything I can do for that?

- No, these are all
very common occurrences

from soldiers returning from combat.

It's just a phase, okay?

Hey.

Hello.

So you've been drinking.

- No, no I haven't
touched a drop in years.

Oh, that's right.

You joined a temperance union.

Joined?

You mean started it.

I also joined the divorce union.

Well kind of more annulled

if you want to get technical about it.

What happened?

Something that never should have.

I think she might be a Nazi.

Are you serious?

I don't know, maybe.

- Well now see, that is
something you should write about.

Have you started up again?

No.

Um, you know, I think once
the anthology's published

that'll hopefully get me going again.

What?

The anthology's just turned out to be

a little more complicated
than I thought.

How?

- Well you know, we
don't publish on our own.

We don't have the money for it.

So we have this
relationship with Lippincott

to finance a long form.

And they've rejected the book.

They don't want to publish it.

- So you're not going to publish
the Young Folks anthology?

Look, if it was up to me, Jerry.

It's them.

I nearly ended the
relationship with them.

You nearly ended the relationship?

How nearly brave of
you that must have been.

Come on, come on.

No, no, no, that means a lot to me.

I mean, you know that
was the only reason

I came back from Germany.

You knew how much it meant
to me, how much I needed that.

At least it brought you home.

I didn't want to come home.

- Jerry, I'm sorry, there's
nothing I can do, all right?

I went to war with these guys over this.

War?

War, you went to war with these guys?

Oh, I'm sorry, no.

That was a bad choice of words.

You went to war?

I didn't mean...

I landed on D-Day.

I understand...

No, no, no, no, no.

You have no idea.

I'm only alive because we missed
our landing by 1,000 yards.

But I saw them all get killed.

I saw every single
one of them get killed.

I should be dead too,
I shouldn't be here.

Jerry, I'm sorry.

I fought for you.
- No, no, no, no, no.

I wanted this to happen.

- Don't sit there and tell
me how you fought for this.

You are a liar, you're a goddam liar.

And I never want to see you again.

Jerry.

Hey mister.

I have a question for you.

Where do you think the
ducks go in the winter

when the pond freezes over?

I'm sorry, pal, I ain't got no idea.

Hey, you want a smoke?

Yeah, thank you.

Hey, you wanna, you want a nip?

Ooh, don't mind if I do.

Have you got a light?

I think I do.

Hey, hey, I'm a veteran.

I'm a veteran, goddam it, stop.

All right, got it.

What are you all doing?

I keep having nightmares about
the war almost every night.

Sometimes I wake up screaming.

Do you also see it during the day?

How'd you know?

- Before I studied the
teachings of Ramakrishna

I was a freedom fighter in
India against the British.

It was the violence I witnessed

that led me on the same
path that has led you to me.

- Do you think the
nightmares will ever go away?

Oh yes.

But first you must
heal from the violence

that has been inflicted upon your soul.

How?

Right.

Our religion consists of meditation

on the spirit of full consciousness.

Come.

Remove your shoes.

This is how we will
begin to heal the pain.

Those are very handsome shoes.

Thank you.

Come, sit.

Very good.

Now close your eyes.

It's all right.

I won't hurt you.

Ultimate reality is an all-pervading

uncreated self-luminous eternal spirit.

It's the consciousness that
animates all conscious beings.

I, well I try to write.

Every day I sit at the
typewriter but I can't start.

- What do you think about when
you stare at the blank page?

That it won't be good.

That I've lost my talent.

So what if you have?

Then I shouldn't write.

You write to show off your talent

or to express what's in your heart?

I finally started yesterday.

Good.

No, it wasn't good.

I mean, the writing was terrible

and I only managed one page.

Then what happened?

Did you enjoy it?

Writing?

No, ripping up the page.

Yeah.

I ripped up five pages yesterday.

Sounds like fun.

Seymour Glass.

"Are you going in the water,
Seymour Glass?" she said.

He suddenly got to his feet.

He looked at the ocean.

"I'll tell you what we'll do.

"We'll see if we can catch a bananafish.

"This is a perfect day for bananafish."

Well, I love what you've
done with the place.

You're writing again.

The Caulfield novel?

No, no.

I tried but...

Thank you.

It's just some short
stories I've been working on.

They're not very good,

but at least I'm getting pages clone.

Well, that's why I'm here.

You remember that story

that the New Yorker
was going to publish?

- Slight Rebellion Off Madison,
my first Caulfield story.

Well, they've been reviewing

all their past submissions
from before the war

and they are considering publishing it.

Really?

Yes, really.

I don't know if you remember,

but they had specific notes
you didn't want to take.

And if you want them to publish it

you're going to have
to make their changes.

Oh come on, at least hear them out.

Publishing is everything.

- Well the New Yorker
holds a special place

in American literature.

And it's important
to us that our stories

have a uniform vision.

We want the reader to
be able to read a story

and know that it could
only run in the New Yorker.

That's exactly what I don't want.

- You don't want to be
published in the New Yorker?

No, no, I love the New Yorker.

I just don't want to write
stories like everyone else.

You know, the war hero
doesn't always get a parade.

Sometimes he blows his head off.

I want to create a new form of writing,

a modern form about modern society

in which is the pain of our existence

is laid out truthfully
for everyone to see.

I'll make a deal with you.

If you try the notes
and don't feel they make

your story better, then I'll
submit your original version.

- I don't want Holden and
Sally to end up together.

That's not what happens in real life,

at least not in my life.

Well that's fine.

It's just a thought we had.

- I thought it was a big
sticking point for you.

- Not if you feel it destroys
the integrity of the piece.

Look, Jerry, I'm not trying
to take your story over

or write it for you.

You have a wonderful
voice but you over-explain.

Trust that the reader's
going to understand you.

What do you mean I over-explain?

That's better.

Your notes worked.

Thanks.

You're welcome.

I'll submit it to
Harold Ross and the team.

It should take a few
weeks to get an answer.

- I wanted to give you
another story I wrote.

I thought you could
help me make it better.

Well shouldn't bananafish be two words?

No, it has to be one.

Why?

- Because two words
would make too much sense.

Dear Jerry.

I've sent you several
letters but you never respond.

I hope you believe me when I tell you

there was nothing I could do.

I begged them to
publish it, I really did.

And now I'm begging
for your forgiveness.

Because I truly...

I've read several of your stories

and they're very impressive
for someone your age.

My writing changed a lot after the war.

The war changed a lot of writers.

The ones that survived.

Jerry, I brought you here today

because I wanted to tell you personally

that the New Yorker
would like to publish you.

Which story?

All of them.

All of them?

- I would like to offer you
a first rejection contract.

We'll pay you a handsome yearly salary.

And in return we get to read
all of your stories first.

The ones we don't publish,

you're free to sell to other magazines.

- It's the most prestigious
contract in American publishing.

Congratulations, Jerry, you did it.

♪ Jing jing a ling
jing a ling jing a ling

♪ I love to hear our laughter mingle

♪ Hah hah

♪ Ho ho

♪ Gliding through the snow

May I present Jerry Salinger.

Peggy Sisken.

Very nice to meet you.

- The New Yorker's incipient
great man of American letter.

Jerry, if I may.

I am also a writer.

Fantastic.

- I thought Uncle Wiggily
in Connecticut was marvelous.

I'm simply dying for your next story.

When Seymour Glass shot himself,

you weren't just talking about the war.

You were talking about the bourgeois

capitalist infrastructure
of a modern plutocracy.

Or maybe it was the war.

But it's really up to the reader.

- Jerry is in the very
beginnings of his first novel.

- And Bill says you
may be writing a novel.

When are you going to write a novel?

- Well, you know, there's
something I'm working on.

Hopefully it won't be too long.

Let's get a picture.

Oh, thank you so much.

Shall we have a picture?

Here we are.

♪ Jing a ling jing a ling

♪ Jing a ling jing a ling jing a ling

- There's one thing
that's been weighing on me.

A novel I'm trying,
wanting to finish but can't.

I'm scared if I work on it
the nightmares will come back.

Is it about the war?

- No, it's about a character
I wrote about during the war.

He was with me everywhere I went.

Every time you attempt to work on it

you feel the war again.

You know, you never really get the smell

of burning flesh out of your nostrils.

- Perhaps finishing this book
is the way for you to move on.

Right.

There's just so many
distractions everywhere.

Then you must remove distractions.

Well, this is it.

It gets a little drafty
but the price is right.

What are you going to do up here?

Oh, just a little writing.

- I'll just tell you
about this madman stuff

that happened to me
around last Christmas.

Just before I got pretty run down.

Finally what I decided I'd
do, I decided I'd go away.

I decided I'd never go home again.

I'd never go away to
another school again.

That way I wouldn't have to have

any goddam stupid unless
conversations with anybody.

I keep picturing all these little kids

playing some game in this
big field of rye and all.

Thousands of little
kids, and nobody's around.

Nobody big I mean, except me.

And I'm standing on the
edge of some crazy cliff.

What I have to do, I
have to catch everybody

if they start to go over the cliff.

I mean if they're running
and they don't look

where they're going, I have to come out

from somewhere and catch them.

And that's all I'd do all day.

I'd just be the catcher
in the rye and all.

I know it's crazy, but
that's the only thing

I'd really like to be.

Jerry.

Hi,

Thanks so much for stopping by.

Oh, thank you.

It's great to meet you.

Mr. Giroux, it's a pleasure.

Robert.

Please, call me Robert.

- Robert.
- Have a seat.

Thank you.

Such an honor to have you here.

- No, I'm sorry for
stopping by unannounced.

I just wanted to speak
to you personally.

No apologies necessary.

- I don't know if you
remember, but a year ago

you sent me the kindest
letter about my writing

asking if you could publish
a book of my short stories.

Of course, I love those stories.

Thank you.

I just completed my first novel

and if you like, I'd
like you to publish it.

Ah, I am honored you'd think of me.

When can I read it?

Hm.

You know, the pages of
this book were with me

when I stormed the beaches of Normandy.

I wrote them in Hitler's
death camps and in the hospital

where I could barely
remember my own name.

I don't think I'd be alive
if it wasn't for this book.

I'm really flattered, Jerry.

Is it a war story?

No.

It's about a troubled kid
during the Christmas holidays.

Well I know you wanted us to give you

some helpful notes on the novel.

But the truth is, we both
think it has a lot of problems.

I just don't buy Holden.

That's the whole book.

- Well he seems phony,
as he would like to say.

He's so negative all the time.

It just doesn't feel real.

And your style is too writer-conscious.

I feel you're trying to be
clever on almost every page.

Did you at least think it was funny?

Um.

Yes, but in a way where I feel

the writer's being too witty.

You're making a real name for yourself

and I would hate for this book

to throw all that goodwill away.

The best note I can give ya

is to just put it in a
drawer for a year or two.

It's that bad?

I'm afraid it is.

I loved it, Jerry, I really did.

Thank God.

But these things are never easy.

What do you mean?

My boss didn't get it.

But I fought for it and he
said he'd be willing to publish

if you did a major rewrite.

What does he want rewritten?

- He doesn't understand
Holden, what makes him tick.

And I gotta admit, I found
him confusing at times.

He hates everything.

And he's always so sarcastic.

Is Holden supposed to be crazy?

Are you okay?

Jerry?

Jerry?

- No, I've thought about
it and I can't do a rewrite.

I won't do it, I'm not
going to change a word.

Holden would never approve.

You might not have to.

What do you mean?

- Look, I didn't tell you
I was going to do this.

But I sent it to one person,
just to test the waters.

Who?

John Woodburn at Little, Brown.

Okay, well how was the water?

Hot, very hot.

He liked it?

No, he loved it.

He thinks it's an American masterpiece.

He said masterpiece?

That's what he said.

Yeah.

And wait, you told him I
wouldn't make any changes?

- Yes, I told him that
that could be a problem,

and he still wants to meet with you

to discuss marketing and distribution.

Hold on, marketing?

We also love this one for the cover,

Holden in his red hunting hat.

I hate it.

So what's wrong with this one?

- The reader needs to
imagine for themselves

what they want Holden to look like.

- What if we just use
it for the galleys?

I think it would really...

Mm-mm, no.

I don't want any galleys sent out.

- Advanced copies are crucial
for publicity purposes.

I don't want any publicity.

You don't want any publicity?

No.

I don't care if it's successful.

I just want it to be good.

The less attention the book gets,

the more the story will affect people.

- It won't affect anyone
if they don't read it.

Well I'm not doing press.

This isn't about me or
publicity or reviews.

This is about Holden.

- Jerry, do you want
us to publish this book

or merely to print it?

Because if you just want a printer,

then I suggest you type
up a few hundred copies

and send them out yourself.

- Fine, you can send out
galleys for advance reviews.

Thank you, Jerry.

That's very generous of you.

- But I don't want to
read a single review.

So don't send them to me, okay?

Receiving rapturous reviews,

the debut novel of J.D.
Salinger is being heralded

as the breakout book of the year.

♪ If a body meet a body

♪ Coming through the rye

♪ If a body kiss a body

♪ Need a body cry

♪ Every lassie has a laddie

♪ None they say have I

♪ And all the lads they smile at me

♪ When coming through the rye

♪ And all the lads they smile at me

♪ When coming through the rye

And do you feel peace?

Excuse me, Mr. Salinger.

Excuse me.

Um, I just wanted to talk to you.

I feel like I'm Holden Caulfield.

And I jump, I need to talk to you

about the book, about Holden.

- Everything I have to
say I wrote in the book.

How do you know so much about me?

I don't.

It's just a work of fiction.

I'm just a fiction writer.

Thank you for saying hello.

But I'm Holden.

I'm Holden Caulfield.

You're phony, like everyone else.

Sorry, I didn't want to wake you.

No, no, no, you didn't.

I was always worried you
wouldn't be able to pay your rent.

Now I gotta worry about
deranged fans attacking you.

You should take your photo
off all those book covers.

I never knew you worried at all.

Since the day you were born.

When I was a boy I
wanted to be a pianist.

I loved playing so much.

But my father was a rabbi so
he just couldn't understand

how I would be able to support myself,

and he forced me to stop playing.

I was upset.

But I knew he loved me.

He just wanted me to be okay.

I never even heard you play.

No, but I was good.

So, you're Holden Caulfield, right?

Yeah.

Your mother was right.

You are very talented.

Thank you.

- Now you just got to write
another one even better.

No pressure.

Good night, sonny.

- I hear people talking
about Catcher everywhere I go.

Everyone just loves it.

- I'm so excited to
read your next book.

Is your steak okay?

Yeah, I'm just not very hungry.

Could we get you something else maybe?

No, excuse me.

You okay?

Yeah, I'm fine.

- You know, there's a dinner
party going on in there.

- Yeah, I'm just a little
uncomfortable right now.

It's just a book.

I didn't even like it that much,

if you want to know the truth.

What didn't you like about it?

- It was just like all
those other phony books.

A lot of whining and the
ending was a lousy bore.

You shouldn't take yourself
so seriously, you know.

It's not like you're the
first guy to write a hit book.

Wait, wait.

Can I get your phone number?

Got a pen?

And I got some paper too.

What's your name?

Claire.

You're the first person
that's ever said they hated it.

To your face.

Thank you.

- You have captured the
consciousness of the nation.

You've tapped into the way many feel,

and have given a voice to their pain.

Well I can't go home anymore.

I wrote the book to get over the war

and now I feel like I'm
going crazy all over again.

- Have you not yet learned
how to remove distraction?

- New Hampshire's really
beautiful this time of year.

It's 90 acres, mostly woods.

The house is modest but very nice.

There's also a small bunker

that can be converted to a guest house.

Or an office.

Whatever you want.

I think you'll be really happy here.

Well I hope so.

An artist's only concern

is to shoot for some kind of perfection.

And on his own terms, not anyone else's.

Excuse, Mr. Salinger.

Since you write about teenagers

I thought you might be interested
in running a youth group.

I think the kids would love it.

I would too.

Great.

They're right over here.

Yet a real artist,

I've noticed, will survive anything.

Jerry?

You invite me all the way out here

and then walk away
as soon as you see me?

No, I'm sorry.

I thought you were one of
those crazed Caulfield fans.

You should be so lucky.

You look beautiful.

What do you think?

It's just as you said in your letters.

It's like the city without the city.

Do you hate it?

I grew up in foster homes, Jerry.

As long as you're here it's perfect.

Her skin was lovely

and her features were delicate.

No one could have missed saying

that she was a first class beauty.

He's overjoyed with
his new spiritual life.

And he goes on saying his
prayer and telling everyone

he happens to meet how to say it too.

Hey, Mr. Salinger.

I know you're very
private, but I was wondering

if I could interview you
for my school newspaper.

They want me to write an
article about someone I admire.

And you'd be perfect.

- Well I stopped doing
interviews a while ago.

But for a school paper I can
certainly make an exception.

Really?

Of course.

The kids at school are going to love it.

Thank you, thank you.

Is Catcher in the Rye autobiographical?

Sort of.

My boyhood was very much the same

as that of the boy in the book.

You know, I had problems
in school just like he did.

To be honest, it was a great
relief telling people about it.

- And why do most of your
stories center on young people?

Because they're innocent

and they haven't been
destroyed by the world yet.

I guess part of me wishes I
could still be that innocent.

But I've seen the things I've seen

and I'll never have
that innocence again.

That girl who interviewed you

the other day was very pretty.

So?

So you seem to like pretty young girls.

Yes, that would put me

in that special
classification known as a man.

Well I hope you still love me

when I'm not a pretty young girl.

Of course I will.

No.
- What?

- That interview, the
interview with the girl.

It was printed in the local
paper, not the school paper.

So?

So she lied to me.

She said it was for the school paper.

She lied.

It's okay, Jerry.

It's going to be okay.

- No, I trusted her.
- Jerry, it's okay.

I trusted her.

She betrayed me.
- It's okay.

- How dare those goddam
children betray me now.

When people become the distraction

then I suppose you remove the people.

There hasn't be a single mention of me

or Story Magazine in any of
the press, not a single mention.

That's because you have no

official involvement in the book.

But I published his first story.

I'm the one who convinced him

that Holden Caulfield should be a novel.

Well, you would have been the publisher

of the hottest novel of the year

if you'd published his
anthology like you promised him.

I haven't slept for six months.

And I miss him.

Well I'm sorry about that.

Lippincott says that they'll publish

an anthology now, anything he wants.

Everyone wants an anthology.

But we're going with
Little, Brown out of loyalty,

although I hate the title.

Nine Stories, it's such a bore.

- Do you think Jerry would
write a piece for Story?

It doesn't have to be a new piece.

It could be an old story, it's fine.

We're just really struggling.

I already asked him.

He said no.

How can he still be angry with me?

He's a huge success now.

It hasn't been easy on him.

The war made him a better writer

but it really messed him up.

It seems to me indisputably true

that artists and poets
who have a reputation

for producing a great or fine art

have something garishly
wrong with them as persons,

a spectacular flaw in character

or an extreme self-centeredness.

And the public's thirst for
their next supposed masterpiece

only makes them want to hide
from distractions even more.

- You've been in that studio
for over a week, Jerry.

All week writing about the Glass family.

We're alone here, Jerry.

You can't just leave us along like this.

We're your family too.

I have no friends here,
I have no one to talk to.

I am all alone.

I'm alone.

He's absolutely unfit for marriage

or anything halfway normal.

It's a sad fact that
the end of one story

always seems to grow into
the start of a new one.

And the tragedy is there's simply

nothing he can do about it.

- Please, you know you're not
supposed to bother me in here.

I know.

But you have a phone call
and he says it's important.

Why?

Who is it?

Whit Burnett.

No, no, I don't want to talk to him.

You'd think with all that meditation

you'd have learned to forgive by now.

Hello.

Jerry, hi.

It's been a long time.

Yes it has.

I never got a chance to tell you

but I just loved Catcher in the Rye.

Thank you.

It was your idea to write it.

Well, it's one thing to have an idea.

It's another thing to execute it,

and you did so brilliantly.

Thank you.

How's life in the country?

I understand...

It's fine, Whit.

What can I do for you?

Are you still angry about what happened?

Is that why you called?

- No, no, I called because,
look, Story Magazine

is going to do an
anthology of short stories.

And since you're our most famous alumni

I just thought it would be fitting

if you did the introduction for us.

Hello.

Okay.

Okay, what?

Okay, I'll do it.

Really?

Yeah, you sound surprised.

No, no, I'm just thrilled.

I, I, thank you.

No, thank you for buying my first story.

Well it was the best $25 I ever spent.

- When I was 20 I was
a student for a time

in Whit Burnett's short
story course up at Columbia.

I often have my doubts whether any good

and conscientious
writing course conductor

can humanly do more.

He was there unmistakably
in the service of the story.

It isn't too quiet for you out here?

No, it's perfect.

- But don't you miss
the action in the city?

It's just a distraction.

It's all a distraction.

It's important I remove anything

that can interfere with my writing.

All I want now is to write.

- Yeah, but don't you
have less to write about?

You're so isolated.

I mean, look, I liked Franny and Zooey.

It's just it felt a little bit more

like reading a religious
textbook than a story.

- You always told me
to dig deeper, correct?

Yes.

- I couldn't have written
Catcher without the war.

But now I'm seeking a higher calling

than a boy in his hunting hat.

Wait a minute.

Holden changed the country.

There's now young
people all over the world

who feel they finally have a
voice they never had before.

- Yes, and they're not afraid
to come here and tell me.

Sometimes I wish I never wrote it.

I do, it's made me a prisoner here.

I'm shackled by my own creation.

- Oh come on, does it
have to be like that?

Yes.

If I want to keep writing, it does.

And that's the only time
I feel any sense of peace.

It's nice to see you
again but I'm curious

why you wanted to come all
the way up here to talk to me.

It's about the introduction you wrote.

Look, I loved it, it's beautiful.

I was very flattered.

Well I'm glad you enjoyed it.

But unfortunately I can't use it.

You can't use it?

- No, because it's not
about Story Magazine

or the other writers.

It's about me and
it's just inappropriate

to use as an introduction
for an anthology.

Why are you laughing?

- Ever since we've met all
you've clone is reject my writing.

I guess I was foolish to
think that would end now.

- Well, I never said life as
a writer was going to be easy.

As always, you were right.

Bye, Whit.

Good bye.

As always there are multiple offers

for the film rights to Catcher.

Elia Kazan, Billy Wilder,
they both keep calling.

Tell them no and to stop calling.

It'd never work as a movie.

Why not?

- 'Cause I'm the only
one that can play Holden.

I'm too old.

- Little, Brown called
about your next book.

They asked if you were still
writing about the Glass family.

They'll take anything,
literally anything.

- No, there's something I
want to talk to you about.

It's actually the reason
why I came back to the city.

What is it?

I don't want to publish anymore.

- But people really love
to read your stories.

You'll have so many disappointed fans.

My writing's, it's become my religion.

Publishing, it gets in
the way of the meditation.

It corrupts it.

I don't know how to be a husband,

or a father, or even a friend.

All I know is how to be a writer.

If I can truly do
this, if I can dedicate

my life to writing and
get nothing in return,

then I think I can find some happiness.

Then don't publish anymore.

I love you and I want you to be happy.

And it's like I always said,
publishing isn't everything.

Dear Whit.

So to answer the question you
asked me all those years ago.

Yes, I am willing to write
for the rest of my life

and get nothing in return.

Sincerely yours, J.D. Salinger.