- by Mark G

We all know how vindictive Hitchens is and how he also loves to take potshots at the old (i.e. Vidal) and recently deceased (i.e. Edward Said). I think I've spotted a somewhat obscure instance of both of these neurotic impulses on display.

I could be reading too much into this, but it appears to me that Hitchens now wants revenge against...J.D. Salinger. Earlier this year, it was reported that the reclusive Salinger "hated" "phonies" like Hitchens and BFF Martin Amis. (A great novelist that Salinger, and apparently an excellent judge of character too.)

In his latest essay/book review for the Atlantic on Charles Dickens, Hitchens, out of nowhere, slights Catcher in the Rye:

This pearl [in reference to a Dickens line that Hitchens likes - no need to reproduce here] was contained in a private letter not intended for publication (Dickens was almost always “on”) and is somewhat more searching than the dull question—“Where do the ducks in Central Park go in winter?”—that was asked by the boy who spoke so scornfully of “all that David Copperfield kind of crap.”

The dull question? Well, maybe the line alone, when taken out of context, doesn't mean much. But you have to read the whole exchange to appreciate it. Let's refresh the memory. Holden is in NYC and has just picked up a taxi driven by a man named Horwitz. Here's the exchange:

"Hey, Horwitz," I said. "You ever pass by the lagoon in Central Park? Down by Central Park South?"

"The what?"

"The lagoon. That little lake, like, there. Where the ducks are. You know."

"Yeah, what about it?"

"Well, you know the ducks that swim around in it? In the springtime and all? Do you happen to know where they go in the wintertime, by any chance?"

"Where who goes?"

"The ducks. Do you know, by any chance? I mean does somebody come around in a truck or something and take them away, or do they fly away by themselves--go south or something?"

Old Horwitz turned all the way around and looked at me. He was a very impatient-type guy. He wasn't a bad guy, though. "How the hell should I know?" he said. "How the hell should I know a stupid thing like that?"

"Well, don't get sore about it," I said. He was sore about it or something.

"Who's sore? Nobody's sore." I stopped having a conversation with him, if he was going to get so damn touchy about it.

But he started it up again himself. He turned all the way around again, and said, "The fish don't go no place. They stay right where they are, the fish. Right in the goddam lake."

"The fish--that's different. The fish is different. I'm talking about the ducks," I said.

"What's different about it? Nothin's different about it," Horwitz said. Everything he said, he sounded sore about something. "It's tougher for the fish, the winter and all, than it is for the ducks, for Chrissake. Use your head, for Chrissake."

I didn't say anything for about a minute. Then I said, "All right. What do they do, the fish and all, when that whole little lake's a solid block of ice, people skating on it and all?"

Old Horwitz turned around again. "What the hellaya mean what do they do?" he yelled at me. "They stay right where they are, for Chrissake."

"They can't just ignore the ice. They can't just ignore it."

"Who's ignoring it? Nobody's ignoring it!" Horwitz said. He got so damn excited and all, I was afraid he was going to drive the cab right into a lamppost or something. "They live right in the goddam ice. It's their nature, for Chrissake. They get frozen right in one position for the whole winter."

"Yeah? What do they eat, then? I mean if they're frozen solid, they can't swim around looking for food and all."

"Their bodies, for Chrissake--what'sa matter with ya? Their bodies take in nutrition and all, right through the goddam seaweed and crap that's in the ice. They got their pores open the whole time. That's their nature, for Chrissake. See what I mean?" He turned way the hell around again to look at me.

"Oh," I said. I let it drop. I was afraid he was going to crack the damn taxi up or something. Besides, he was such a touchy guy, it wasn't any pleasure discussing anything with him.

Obviously nothing "dull" about that hilarious exchange. I guess Hitch's ego is so big now, he thinks he can take down a legend like Salinger. Good luck. And there's no point in arguing literary tastes here, but I would take the Catcher in the Rye over the collected works of Charles Dickens any day of the week. I could never finish a Dickens book - too heavy-handed and bogus for my tastes, or, like P.G. Wodehouse said of Dickens' novels: "they're written for children and half-witted adults."