Let us go then, you and I

In the coming weeks, when you head to your local bookshop or library in search of some literary betterment, be prepared. You will likely find that everyone else has the same idea.

The explanation is simple: They, like you, cannot for the life of them remember what exactly they did with their AP English copy of Catcher in the Rye, though surely it is still in their possession. Unfortunately, even before Mr. Salinger's passing this week, this particular opus became (and remained) popular with all manner of crazies who have kept it flying off the shelves for half a century. So all the would-be readers, like you, were forced to move on to some B-list Salinger works, driven by a vague recollection of the tingle of an adolescent intellect that was born during "For Esme with Love and Squalor" and the one about the Bananafish.

And so, dear reader, here we stand, watching as proverbial tumbleweeds slowly roll down the desolate shelves where J.D Salinger used to be. Through some twist of antisocial, final and triumphant irony, he actually managed to take all of his writing with him. Good on you, Jerome, you stick it to 'em.

But do not despair. Just because all of the other nostalgic bookworms out there were quicker on the draw than you doesn't mean you have to go back to Twitter. May I recommend some other forgotten gems from the days of yore: "Winesburg, Ohio" by Sherwood Anderson, anything by Anthony Burgess and, if whiskey and/or briar pipes are involved in your reading ritual, "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock." Take a shot at the end of every stanza. I warrant you will get literated and obliterated at the same time!

Just be sure to pour one out for J.D., who is surely up there enjoying some good eats, good company, reruns of last season's Gossip Girl and some god damned peace and privacy. Here's to you.