This Makes Me Want to Barf

We all have something that we love so much it eclipses fandom and moves into the realm of the sacred. For me, (and about a billion other people) that thing is Catcher in the Rye.

Catcher was the first book that I was forced to read in high school that I not only didn't hate with a fiery passion, but ended up loving. I've read it once a year every year since that first time. I fell in love with Holden. I consumed everything Salinger. You guys, I have a Salinger SHRINE on top of my bookcase. This is a true and undying love.

I have always loved and admired Salinger's decision to not sell the rights to any of his works to Hollywood. I don't want to see some bloated studio's interpretation of my beloved Catcher. I've always pictured it in the worst possible terms; Pheobe would be too precocious, Holden would be played by the current awkward hot thing, and all the beauty and nuance would be lost. There would be marketing and stupid movie tie in covers and...god. It would be terrible.

You know what else would be terrible? A SEQUEL.

I know. It's sort of shocking at first, right? If you're like me, you're wondering if this is some sort of effed up joke. I mean, really? Holden Caulfield, my beloved HOLDEN CAULFIELD, is now 76 years old and escaping from a RETIREMENT HOME? It's not a joke, dear readers. Go ahead and google it. I'll wait.

See? It's totally real and it's going to be AWFUL. Any lingering hopes I had for it being anything less than a stink bomb have been ripped away by my cursory search. Let's look at the first line, shall we?

"I open my eyes and, just like that, I'm awake. I suppose it's pretty damn early, but it must still be the middle of the night. It's so dark I can hardly see my god d*** hand in front of my face."

OMG are you SERIOUS? I know what you're thinking, and no, the author is not a sixteen year old uber fan. I checked. It's A FULL GROWN MAN who is to blame for this tragic literary crime. And his name? John David California. THERE IS NO WAY THAT'S YOUR REAL NAME, JERK!

OK. I need to take a deep breath. I didn't anticipate getting this worked up. But really, this is just so WRONG. Look, I understand the desire to emulate artists you love and admire. I once spent an entire summer writing a story about Green Day. You know, WHEN I WAS SIXTEEN YEAR OLD UBER FAN. This California jerkoff though was apparently inspired to write this "sequel" because he had "always wondered what happened." Christ on a Crutch. Should we, the reading public, be punished because you wondered what happened after this perfectly told story ended?

I shouldn't get too worried though. I mean, there ain't a chance in hell Salinger is going to let this piece of crap be released...right?