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252 pages, Hardcover
First published March 1, 2008
Before I'd moved to New York, it seemed as though everyone was there, playing cockroaches in experimental plays, or making broody films at Colombia, or working at galleries, or teaching dance to the poor kids in Brownsville or to the rich kids at St. Ann's.
Salinger was not cutesy. His work was not nostalgic. These were not fairy tales about child geniuses traipsing the streets of Old New York.
Salinger was nothing like I'd thought. Nothing.
Salinger was brutal. Brutal and funny and precise. I loved him. I loved it all.