The year I read 89 books (about 30 of which are probably thanks to my last semester of prep school and first semester at Smith), I read all of Salinger’s works in a couple of weeks, save for The Catcher in the Rye, which was required HS reading. Franny and Zooey made my “Favorite books thus far” list, which was a svelte eleven titles at that point. In the first part of the book, Franny makes the trek from a Smith-like college to see her college boyfriend, armed with The Way of the Pilgrim and disillusioned with college education and people. This passage prompted me to think about Salinger’s response to fame as well as what mine would be if I ever had to have one:

Lane: You think you’re a genius?
Franny: Aw, Lane. Please. Don’t do that to me.
Lane: I’m not doing any–
Franny: All I know is that I’m losing my mind. I’m just sick of ego, ego, ego. My own and everybody else’s. I’m sick of everybody that wants to get somewhere, do something distinguished and all, be somebody interesting. It’s disgusting–it is, it is. I don’t care what anybody says.
Lane: You sure you’re just not afraid of competing? I don’t know too much about it, but I’d lay odds a good psychoanalyst–I mean a really competent one–would probably take that statement–”
Franny: I’m not afraid to compete. It’s just the opposite. Don’t you see that? I’m afraid I will compete–that’s what scares me. That’s why I quit the Theatre department. Just because I’m so horribly conditioned to accept everybody else’s values, and just because I like applause and people to rave about me, doesn’t make it right. I’m ashamed of it. I’m sick of it. I’m sick of not having the courage to be an absolute nobody. I’m sick of myself and everybody else that wants to make some kind of splash.