Growing up, one of my favorite books was J.D. Salinger's Nine Stories. (You know, Salinger, Catcher In The Rye) Depending on your cultural background and who your parents are, you either read Catcher unabridged, or like some people that I'm married to, all the culturally questionable words were blackened out with a Sharpie so as not to pollute a young mind. I used to think that was really funny and a little outrageous, because if some parents were into blackening out words in a book, heaven forbid they should walk down a high school hallway in Anytown, USA and hear what is being said there. To paraphrase Forrest Gump, "Sometimes, there's just not enough Sharpies."
Anyway, in our house, Catcher sat right next to Shakespeare's complete works. So when the Bard and I parted company, Catcher was next. Completion led me to Salinger's Nine Stories.... Now, if I were really on my game, I could tell you what all those nine stories are about, and the cultural significance of Salinger's work in 20th Century American Literature. However, Salinger has been on the highest shelf, in the tallest tower for a few years now. And my brain can only hold so much information, and unless you would like a complete synopsis of Harry Potter (of which I can recount all seven volumes of plot like it actually happened to me personally) or need to know What Happened to the Lorax? , or even what kind of songs the Wild Things sing as they roar their terrible roars, then I'd be happy to oblige.
However, up on the tallest shelf I can see Nine Stories. I am intrigued simply because of the title. Over the next nine days I will be recounting Nine Stories of my own. Make no mistake: clearly I'm no J.D. Salinger. I probably won't use any words that need to be 'Sharpied'. I like joy more than pain, and these stories will be prosaic at best, poorly written at worst.
But they will all be true...at least according to me.