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J.D. Salinger believed his readers had no right to know him as a person. So he gave no interviews, no book tours.

When he died at age 90, in 2010, he was viewed widely as a recluse. What few knew was that he continued to write - but not publish. Only upon his death did he begin to release his work. 

Salinger was a writer devoid of form; driven to do so not for fame; not for fortune. He sought shelter from a storm within; fueled by his experiences early in life in WWII and the frightful pain of witnessing the Holocaust. 

He hated  the world in which he found himself , a world  composed of the detritus of his early life  -- detritus that appeared irreversibly bound to  visceral centers of pain. 

Unlike so much that is written today, it is not now apparent that J.D. had much interest in raw polemics of today's America. His focus was within. He would never have considered running for president of the United States.

Eventually we may understand  what sort of salve writing was to J.D. 

And so it is with me. Through this blog you will explore all manner of ideas set politely before you.

But you will never know me as a person.  



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