A Perfect Day for Bananafish

This essay regards J.D. Salinger's short fiction work "A Perfect Day for Bananafish", taken from his Nine Stories collection. The critical commentary is pretty rich, containing as it does such towering nonsense-tences as "His wife, Muriel, change some what isn't while her mother and father think she is crazy for even waiting for him during the war, little own deal with him now that he is like this." How does "let alone" become "little own", for starters? Language is a slippery eel, but the author can't even seem to hit the cow's arse with a banjo, as the Irish say.

But even more worthy of attention are the savage peer-review comments, which repeatedly ask "so what?" and demand to know "what are you babbling about?" and "what the hell are you talking about?" At least, I think it was a peer review...