When I was 16 years old and obsessed with the Glass family stories of J. D. Salinger, I convinced three of my friends to set out for Cornish, New Hampshire, in hopes of meeting the reclusive author. I’d recently read an unauthorized biography of Salinger that had provided some clues concerning how to find his home, but at some point during the journey, it occurred to me that I didn’t have much of a plan for what would happen if I actually found Salinger.
Read the rest of Mark Maier's article in The Weekly Standard.
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