For JD Salinger with Love and Squalor

JD Salinger died today, aged 91.

My eyes are wet as I write this, not because his death was tragic - he had a long life - but because I want to mourn the passing of a great writer for whose work I am very grateful. It is right to cry for this death.

JDS was a recluse, so I know little about his life and I guess that's just how he liked it. But it's his works not his biographical details, that have had an impact.

Two of his stories are as much a part of my inner life as anything I have physically experienced. One is A Perfect Day for Bananafish and the other is For Esme - with Love and Squalor.

In both these stories soldier/veteran Seymour Glass meets a young girl. These girls have clear, direct voices. They are sympathetic to Seymour and willing to let him into their lives.

Seymour's mind has unravelled but he is able to connect with these girls, though it is not enough to save him.

In Bananafish Seymour kills himself. After reading For Esme I can see how he got there. After reading and re-reading I can see how the banalities of everyday life after the experiences of war are both empty and at the same time everything we live for. It's either enough or it isn't.

It's the lack of sentimentality that I am grateful for. JDS has no truck with hope. What an overused sentiment that is. It sounds good in speeches.

I hope my partner recovers one day but hope cannot sustain me. I need other tools - acceptance being chief, then patience, resilience, whimsy (in no particular order).

So I obligingly shed a few tears as I sit here on the beach, watching the gulls stalking breakfast crumbs and the little girls messing around in the sans, bossing their little brothers about. It's enough for me as it must have been enough for JD Salinger (he made it to 91 after all).

Flo