Salinger’s writing is like a bear in the kitchen, tearing into the tender truth of everyday life with unpredictable swipes from sharp linguistic claws “capable of ripping through a refrigerator’s skin.” A grappling hook in a stingray, a red-tailed hawk on a bark covered fence post, an outdated pack of Twizzlers – Salinger describes familiar images with “the choreographed precision of slow motion pistons,” scientifically accurate and unsentimentally clear.