Friday, January 29, 2010
RIP J.D. Salinger
While there is some speculation in some sources as to whether or not the reclusive Salinger ever owned a dog or had pets, an ex-lover of his, Joyce Maynard, notes in her memoirs about J.D.:
He’s still a New Yorker. Now and then in a letter he’ll mention having a telephone conversation with S.J. Perelman—Sid—or going in to Manhattan to have lunch with William Shawn, editor of The New Yorker magazine, or getting a visit from a couple of longtime New Yorker writers who stop for lunch on their way back from a visit to Cape Cod. But mostly his visits will be with Sally, to work on homeopathy, and the Barretts, with whom he discusses his compost pile, or cordwood, or his tomato plants. He talks to me a lot about writing, but never about writers, except dead ones, and never about the current literary scene, which he avoids. (Though he eventually mentions a particular loathing for John Updike, who once published a highly critical piece about his work.) He writes about his dachshund, Joey, a trip to the health food store in White River Junction, a bet with Matthew that entailed not shaving for a week, getting his car fixed. Source.
So there you have it, and his name was 'Joey.' RIP J.D.