The front page of the [New York] Times on July 16, 1951, serves to outline, quickly enough, the situation of the world into which The Catcher in the Rye made such a successful and relatively well-publicized entrance. The main action of the world, the chief events of its days were occurring within a framework of struggle between two systems of life, two different ways of organizing human being socially, politically, economically. The opposition between East and West, between socialist and capitalist, (...) was determining what happened in Kaesong, Budapest, Madrid, Teheran, Washington, New York. Name-calling the Administration, Republicans threw out the term "socialist," and the bid for millions to build schools in the five boroughs of New York would finally have to dovetail with allocations of taxes for defense. The review of The Catcher in the Rye in the back pages of the Times made no mention of any of this. The kind of reality reported on the front page belonged to one world; the new novel was about to be assimilated into another, into the world of culture, which was split from politics and society. And this separation repeated itself in other reviews: typically, they did not mention the framework of world history contemporary with the novel; they did not try to relate Catcher to that framework even to the extent of claiming that there was only a partial relationship or complaining, however simplistically, that there was none. Our concern from here on will be to try to sketch what reviewers and what academic critics after them did see in the novel and what they might have seen in it. We are interested in the conceptual frameworks, the alternatives to history, they used to respond to and interpret Catcher as they passed it on to its millions of lay readers. Carol Ohmann is currently working on a book about Charlotte Bronte, George Eliot, and Virginia Woolf. Her previous contribution to Critical Inquiry, "Virginia Woolf's Criticism: A Polemic Preface" , appeared in the December 1974 issue. Richard Ohmann's most recent book is English in America: A Radical View of the Profession. Both are professors in the department of English at Wesleyan University, and contributed "CRITICAL RESPONSE: Universals and the Historically Particular" to Critical Inquiry in the Summer 1977 issue. (shrink)

Categorical names such as “The English Novel,” “The Modern American Novel,” and “American Literature” often turn up in catalogs as titles of college courses, and we know from them pretty much what to expect. They also have standing in critical discourse, along with allied terms unlikely to serve as course titles: “good writing,” “great literature,” “serious fiction,” “literature” itself. The awareness has grown in recent years that such concepts pose problems, even though we use them with easy enough comprehension when (...) we talk or write to others who share our cultural matrix.Lately, critics like Raymond Williams have been reminding us that the categories change over time and that at any given moment categories embody complex social relations and a continuing historical process. That process deeply invests all terms with value: since not everyone’s values are the same, the negotiating of such concepts is, among other things, a struggle for dominance—whether between adults and the young, professors and their students, one class and another, or men and women. We don’t usually notice the power or the conflict, except when some previously weak or silent group seeks a share of the power: for example, when, in the 1960s, American blacks and their supporters insisted that black literature be included in school and college curricula, or when they openly challenged the candidacy of William Styron’s Confessions of Nat Turner for inclusion in some eventual canon.1 But the gradual firming up of concepts like, say, postwar American fiction is always a contest for cultural hegemony, even if in our society if is often muted—carried on behind the scenes or in the seemingly neutral marketplace. 1. See John Henrik Clarke, ed., William Styron’s Nat Turner: Ten Black Writers Respond . Richard Ohmann is professor of English at Wesleyan University. He is the author of English in America and is presently working on studies in mass culture. (shrink)

To address, as Miller does, the text of Catcher particularly, we would argue that Holden's experiences of old age, physical repulsiveness, sex, aloneness and isolation, and even death are embedded in his full experience of society, and that his responses, moment by moment, bear the imprint of his total response to the competitive, dehumanizing world he is in the process of rebelling against and rejecting. He finds old Spencer pathetic not just because he is elderly and arthritic and snuffy with (...) flu, but because he is relatively powerless, not very well off, and naïve in urging upon Holden his teacherly prescriptions for life: be sensible, do your lessons, take care for your future—as if with one's own efforts alone could guarantee one's worldly future. This essay is a reply to disagreements raised by James E. Miller, Jr. to the Ohmanns' “Reviewers, Critics, and The Catcher in the Rye” . Carol Ohmann has also contributed "Virginia Woolf's Criticism: A Polemical Preface" with Barbara Currier Bell. (shrink)