Adaptation by Nuri

Intro: This adaptive essay is based on when Holden gets expelled from the school. This scene is ‘my’ last day in the dorm, in KMLA.

I don’t believe it, I just don’t. I mean if you had a schedule like mine in KMLA you should be expelled as well you know. I mean AP European History with AP Literature and on top of that Ms. Rene’s boring AP biology class for God’s sake. How could you expect a student to get straights A’s on a schedule like that? And now the school’s just sending me away because a bit of Ds and okay I admit one F came up on my report card. I don’t believe it, I just don’t.

This would be my third transfer so far. It’s not like I’m ostracized in school or anything. When I came from HAFL to KMLA I did so because I hated the guts of that old principal. I mean he literally forced us to play an instrument for a straight 3 hours every single week. I mean if you have clumsy hands like mine, you’re head just bounds to explode. And before that, well let’s just not talk about before that. Don’t really want to bring up bad memories you know.

Anyways, rather indifferent about my third transfer, I was sitting on my chair in my room; the chair that I’ll soon be giving to my roommate. He still has that wooden chair he’d been using since his sophomore year. I mean I just can’t stand wooden chairs. How can you sit on a wooden chair when there are leather chairs and softer chairs to sit on? I always went up to the cafeteria to study so he didn’t have to see me sitting on my leather chair. Sometimes when I came back after the second self study period, I could see my chair on his side of the room. Don’t really care, it’s his now.

I sat down, looking out the window to see Duckco mountain be covered with a thin layer of fog. But before I could even feel some aesthetic beauty my homate barged in. For God’s sake he can be a real nuisance you know. That Taehoon. Such a limp guy. I mean men should be firm you know. A few hardend muscles here and there, some boldness in his eyes, but Taehoon? You never seen a whiter skinnier whip than him. I’m not saying that he’s a bad guy or anyting. It’s just that he spueakes at you like a white mouse everytime he speaks, not to mention he leaves a trail of trash everywhere he goes.

It was funny that he was in the room at that time. The school was having a speech contest and I was the only one that was supposed to stay in the dormitory – or at least chose to. The others were probably entertaining themselves in the gym. Anyways that Taehoon barged in, this time squeaking about a girl he seemed to like. Again, what a limp; he should just go and talk to her instead of rambling on and on for God’s sake. While he did he kept on fidgding with his Kleenex he had. 

... (to be continued!)

Adaptation by Jane Jungmin Park

I (Synthie): A high school (Kumly’s Prep) junior who is so angry at the education system that she refuses to take any classes except for Chemistry

Mr. Liu: Kumly’s chemistry teacher whom Synthie considers as the only one that is not phony at Kumly’s

OT: Synthie’s roommate who flirts with anyone who is in her radar; even Seok, Synthie’s true love

Seok: Synthie’s past love; memory with Seok always makes Synthie smile; considered not phony by Synthie

Lete Junio: Synthie’s classmate who is a complete phony, in Synthie’s perspective

Some things are hard to remember. I’m thinking now of when OT got back from her date with Seok. I mean I can’t remember exactly what I was doing when I heard her goddam stupid footsteps coming down the corridor. I probably was still solving the AP Chemistry questions, but I swear I can’t remember. I was so damn worried, that’s why. When I really worry about something, I don’t just fool around. I even have to go to the bathroom when I worry about something. Only, I don’t go; instead I go to Mr. Liu’s office. If you knew OT, you’d have been worried, too. I’d double dated with that bitch a couple of times, and I know what I’m talking about. She seemed to forget which one she was dating exactly. She really did.

Anyway, the doors were all made out of paper or something and all, and you could hear that huge bitch’s goddam footsteps coming right towards the room. I don’t even remember which problem I was solving when she came in- acid-base equilibria, titration or buffer solutions. I swear I can’t remember, even the number of moles of NaOH.

She came in griping about how cold it was out. Then she said, “Where the hell is everybody? It’s like a goddam morgue around here.” I didn’t even bother to answer her. If she was so goddam stupid not to realize it was Saturday night and everybody was out or asleep or home for the week end, I wasn’t going to break my neck telling her. She started getting undressed into her most basic clothes, as usual. She didn’t say one goddam word about Seok. Not one. Neither did I. I just watched her. All she did was thanking me for letting her wear my pink-white gorgeous uniform. She hung it up on a hanger and pit it on the closet as if nothing special had happened.

Adaptation by Jin Yong Kim

This is a writing written in the voice of Holden in the Catcher in the Rye. It is the Independence Day, and people from the Blue House came to school to give a speech.



     It was the Independence Day and all. These people from the Blue House were supposed to come to our school to give us a lecture about the goddam national defense. National defense…what a phony word, I thought. Our school was supposed to be this place where future leaders are raised by special programs. And so as a part of the program, the school often invited renowned people to come over and give a speech. Visits by those people were supposed to be secret and all, but this news about people from the Blue House coming spread way before they came. The Blue House… It killed me.
     Normally today is a legal holiday, but since our school never cares a damn about the law, or practically anything that the government demands, we had to go to school. We huddled up in the auditorium to listen to what the dude at the Blue House had to say. When I went to the auditorium, this dull-looking guy was staring at us all. He reminded me of ‘Scream’ by Edvard Munch. No kidding. He had this damn depressing look on his face. The sheer look on his face seemed to drain all the happiness out from me. I know it sounds mean, but I don’t mean it mean. I mean if you were sitting there in the auditorium with this damn depressing guy right in front of your face, you would say the same thing.
      “Hello Fellows,” He started off with usual greetings. “It’s honor to speak in front of you all. The reason I’m here is to give you a basic idea about our country’s national defense.”
      Now I won’t go jabbering about what he said after that-‘cause it was already damn harsh for me to sit there simply listening to that phony bastard. He was talking about how leaders like us should get more interested in national defense, and that man should fully accomplish their duties in the military.
     Just at the moment, the girl who sat right in front of me farted damn loud. We couldn’t laugh hard because the principal was glaring at us-but anyway that really cut his speech. The Blue House bastard was giving this phony smile to the girl-but I knew he was making that face just to look nice. I kept my goddam fingers crossed for another fart, but no one was brave enough to get extra interest from the principal.

Adaptation by Flora Minjung Park

Title:  The Catcher In the Rye Adaptation
Type: Reading Class Writing
Korean Minjok Leadership Academy

2012. 05. 23 11b3 111049 Flora Minjung Park

     Introduction:  This is an adaptation of three chapters (3, 4, and 5) of the original text, though the main characters and a bit of the characteristics of them are changed. Rather than sticking to the original characters, I thought that having a different character in the same scene might twist the story differently, and so I couldn't resist the temptation to make a fresh twist. I used bits of the traits of the characters in the English drama "Skins" - which shows the life of spoiled teens - especially Effy, an attractive but mischievous and chic girl. To briefly explain, Effy isn't really a girl that looses fencing instruments or does homework instead of her roommate like Holden. Holden is a troublemaker, but sometimes he shows weaknesses or envy to his handsome roommate, but Effy is the opposite - everyone thinks she is cool and pretty, and boys would love to date out with her or possibly "give her time" in a baseball coach's car. She's rather strong, instead. Still, Effy is also pessimistic and full of anger towards society, like Holden, which derives the plot of the story to be quite interesting. Enjoy!

*          *          *

     I was sitting on my bed when Anne was wearing make-up in front of my mirror. She was sort of getting the hang of it now, but never just right. Damn it. When the hell is she ever going to get my make-up tips. I still had my make-up on, so I thought I'd stand next to her and watch her try to make a fool out of herself in those hilarious make-up and erase my own.

      My roomie, Anne, was a typical "slob". Not that she looks bad and all. Shes a slob in her personal habits. She always looked alright, Anne, but for instance, you should've seen her closet. It was always messed up - clothes, socks, and all; she never distinguishes her clean clothes and the ones she's been wearing days. For god sake, I don't think she even cleans her clothes for most of the time anyway. Her socks and crap usually were scattered around the room - "our" room - and her garbage was everywhere. Most of the time she doesn't even wear her own damn clothes - she borrows mine when going out with her yucky idiot date.

     "Oh Effy please please can I borrow this skirt?"

     "Effy, can I please try this on? I meet Edward today."

     Whatever. I'm tired of people telling me I'm cool and pretty. I'm tired of my damn roommate trying to try on things that don't even fit her just because she thinks it's cool because "I" wore it. I don't really care I guess, since I can't really help being cool and Anne isn't the only one that envies me, but I do have my limits -especially when I'm dealing with a slob like my roommate. Boy, her boyfriend looked like one of those big balloons you see in front of a newly opened store along the streets. Disgusting. Absolutely. Anyways, she doesn't even clean my clothes when returning them, what a slob she is. She always looks decent when she finished fixing herself, compared to what damn idiot she is and looks like "before" borrowing "my" perfume, "my" clothes, and "my" accessories.

     "Hey," Anne said. "Wanna do me a big favor?"
     "......."
     "I have this essay homework about writing about a room to describe, can you please write it for me? I'll appreciate it loads if you help."
     "........"

     "I'm the one that's flunking out of the goddamn place and you're asking me to write you a goddamn composition," I said. It was very ironical. It really was.
     "Yeah, I know. But still, I thought that we were friends. Be a buddy. Be a buddyroo. Okay?"


     Now that sounded ridiculous.
     "Do  I look like an easy person to lay off your favors on?" I replied.

     Half mad I was. She was always asking you to do her a big favor. She has this fantasy that she's the coolest girl in school, except me - who she admires. She thinks everyone is "crazy" about her. Goddamn it. She even considers me a "friend". Just because shes crazy about herself, she thinks you're crazy about her, too, and that I'm just dying to do them a favor. It's sort of funny, in a way.

    "Well, no" She replied, half scared - shown all in her face.

    "Then goddamn it, will you please fuck off"
     ".....Sure Effy."


    She looked pretty hurt, but why should I care. She scooted out of the room to see her disgusting boyfriend, and I was left alone in the room. All was silent. It was a good silence, unlike the damn noise outside of school in the streets. Nothing outside really is suitable for living, I think. Not that this school is perfect, either. Horrible place to be. I'm pretty glad that I lay my feet of this damn place tomorrow. Absolutely.

     I'm not pretty good in scores. Ain't good in other stuff, either, but scores the worst. There was this lousy teacher Garrioch that gave me straight A's in essays in writing composition, but the rests are all C's or F's. I mean, I'm not going to be a goddamn doctor or a philosopher or a scholar or anything anyway. What the matter for scores. Don't care, but still. I'm not that much of an excellent student cause I sleep half of my classes, and spend the other half smoking or playing outside of school. Test scores are okay, teachers say - of course because their expectations are goddamn low - but they fail me anyway. Fucked up school, I say. What they speak and what the scores speak are always different. Absolutely.

     Anyway, I decided to help the slob's homework anyway. Last day mind refreshing-wise, I thought it was worth a go. Besides, I kinda liked the Garrioch dude, not because he gave me good scores, but it was one of the classes worth taking. Free and fun - unlike that goddamn society outside. But the thing was, I couldn't think of a room or a house or anything to describe the way Anne said she had to have. I'm not too crazy about describing rooms and houses anyway. So what I did, I wrote about my brother Andrew's cup that he made when he went to a trip to Turkey. It was a very descriptive  subject. It really was. He had this handed cup - or sort of something like a mug, I guess. He was left-handed. The things that was descriptive about it, though, was that he had signatures of celebrities that he met written all over the grip and bottom and everywhere. In green ink. He's dead now, but he was terrifically intelligent. Teachers always told mom about what a pleasure it was having a boy like him in their class. And they weren't just shooting the crap. They really meant it. He was nice, too, and never got mad at people very easily.

     Anyway, that's what I wrote Anne's composition about. Old Andrew's mug. I happened to have it with me, in my suitcase, so I got it out and copied down some signatures written on it. All I had to do was change his name so that nobody would know it was my brother and not Anne's. I wasn't too crazy about doing it, but I couldn't thinking of anything else descriptive. Besides, I sort of liked writing about it. It took me about an hour, because I had to use Anne's lousy typewriter, and it kept jamming on me. The reason I didn't use my own was because I already threw it at an annoying guy called Stanley.

     It was around twelve, I guess, when I finished it. I wasn't tired, though, so I looked out the window for a while. It wasn't snowing out any more, but every once in a while you could hear a car somewhere not being able to get started.

    'Last night here,' I thought. 

     Absolutely. Last night.

    Finally, out of this goddamn place. Finally.

"J for Judith" by Jiyoon Rhee

J for Judith

Judith and the narrator are students in KMLA. The narrator does not like Judith and suspects her as a thief. However, nobody except the narrator dares to suspect her. This is not from certain chapters of the book Catcher in the Rye, but I wanted to reflect my own experience and view it in a way that Holden sees the world.

     Judith was sitting in front of me. It was a mistake that I sat in the seat. I had totally forgotten about Judith’s favorite seat. It was such a hard time for me because I had to see her bulky back every time I tried to look at the clock. What was more annoying was that I could not go to the damn restroom for whole 2 hours of self-studying period. That girl—Judith—is a thief, and I know so well about her “crimes”. How could I leave my stuffs alone in the studying hall when Judith was sitting right in front of me?

     I have never told anybody about Judith’s crimes. If I ever did, Judith would eventually find out that I have done so, and bully me until I graduate and all. I am serious. I really am. She had been always like that. Who she does not like becomes every girl’s enemy in couple of days. She had her own power of persuasion.

All the crazy things always happen around her. Her explanation about the craziness was absurd and lame. What was even more interesting was that nobody figured out the damn clear fact. If you think about all the incidents, you can easily find out how Judith had created all the disturbances of my school. People are never caring about other people. Many pretend to be. However, they are not interested in other people’s business. What they are really interested is that there might be a bitter impact on them when people around them get in troubles. Most of people are phony. Most people in this school are phony.

     I could not concentrate because of Judith’s presence. She was not doing anything strange or suspicious. Actually, she was studying very hard. Her brown hair was clipped with an enormous hairpin, and she was sticking her nose onto her Calculus book. She liked to put on damn make-ups and spending bunch of time doing her hair. It is crazy that she wakes up in the morning at 5 o’clock and spends two hours of preparation and make-ups. What was more urgent for her is to get on a diet and to get rid of her damn broad hips. She walked like a model with her red skinny jeans, her big butts moving left and right.

I stared at her, without noticing it, and she turned around. Maybe she had felt something, and I pretended that I was looking at a clock. Judith smiled at me with strange confidence. She thought that I was looking at her bleached cheap brown hair because I had a crush on her or something. That smile killed me.

     I know how that girl had done many things that are cruel and inhumane. Small and big things disappear around her. From small things such as pens and hair-laces and to big things such as iPods and wallets.

     Then, I heard a sound of footsteps. Eunice was walking between the tables of the study hall. Eunice came to Judith, and started whispering and giggling about something. Eunice is the kind of girl who never gets mad at anybody. It drives me crazy when a girl like Eunice hangs out with a bastard like Judith. Judith is never mean to Eunice. She knows how to cope with girls and attract them to her side and all. Phony.

Adaptation by Youkyung (Alice) Lee

     This is from the scene when Holden goes into his sister Phoebe’s room and reads her notebook before he wakes her up. In my story, I’m in Holden’s place and my little sister Sally is in Phoebe’s place.

I sat down on Sally’s desk and looked at the stuff on it. It was mostly all school stuff, you know, like science textbook and math paper and that sort of crap. I was just sitting there, staring at my little sister’s school works. Then I noticed this diary that I gave to her on her ninth birthday. It was one of those corny diaries for girls, with lace and all, you know, the ones that most of the girls record their phony life on. Sally was only ten now, maybe a little too young to write serious things on a diary. That’s why I gave her this diary for her birthday. Before Sally had it, the diary was only a goddamn phony diary, But Sally changed it. Sally can change many things. She’s like a goddamn magician. She switches things that are so phony that you can puke at the sight of it, into these brilliant works of art. Things aren’t phony anymore when Sally uses them. Just like this diary, you know. On the front cover, Sally wrote something so fascinating that it made me smile like madly. This is what old Sally had on it:

Sally Wingchelle Charmaine Josephina Lee’s Diary

     That killed me. I have absolutely no idea where she got those names from. Sally doesn’t have a middle name. None of my family member has middle name. Old Sally didn’t like that, though. She wanted middle names. Not just a middle name, middle names. That’s what she wanted. Every time I see her she’s got new middle names for herself. She makes up her name with all the names she likes. She sometimes makes up a name you never heard of. She It really kills me.

     I opened the diary and read the first page. It had on it:

The Names of My Children

My first daughter: Sophie

My first son: Seth

My second daughter: Shirley

My second son: Samuel

Old Sally. She was only a ten year old and she was already naming her children. She’s actually quite obsessed about names, you know. She loved naming things. I bet her diary had a name too, like Anne Frank’s diary. It might sound corny, naming the diary and all that business, but it wasn’t. It really wasn’t. Nothing’s corny if Sally’s the one doing it. That’s because she does things with all her heart. I mean, she does what she does, you know like naming the diary and her children and stuff, for real. She’s not faking anything. She’s not trying to look cool or sentimental or anything like all the phonies out in this world. If she wants to do something, she does it. If she doesn’t, than she doesn’t do it. She’s nothing close to being a phony. She’s the one who is real in this goddamn phony world.

I sat there on Sally’s desk and read the whole diary. Not thoroughly, though. I tried not to read it too carefully, you know. After all, it is her diary for God’s sake. It would feel goddamn awful if somebody read my diary and found out all the things about me. So I just flipped through pages not actually reading much. But just looking at her writing just killed me. Sally had this special handwriting that kills me when I see it. Her handwriting is really neat, even neater than mine. At the same time though, her writing is a bit squiggly. Neat and squiggly. It sounds like crap, but it really is. Her handwriting is just like her. I can’t really explain or anything, but if you see her handwriting, you know that it was written by Sally. It kills me, it really does.

Sally rolled to the side on her bed. I decided to wake her up. I couldn’t really sit on her desk till the morning comes, you know. So I sat on her bed and shook her up.

Apadtaion by Byeong Yun Kim

The Catcher in the Rye

A scene that depicts Holden’s meeting with the prostitute

In a dreadful and crappy room on the outskirts of 이태원, I was walking around in my room waiting for some prostitute to show up. I kept hoping that she wouldn't be some damn old hag who had phony Chanel clothes and cosmetics on. Minutes later, somebody gave a knock on the cranky doors of my room. I opened it and there stood the prostitute.

“How do you do?” I said, trying to sound as damn smooth as I possibly could.

“You the guy that Hentai was talking about?” She said in an unfriendly, demanding voice.

 “Is he the guy who was selling condoms at the lobby?”

“That’s him all right.”

“Yeah, then I’m your guy.”

Then without another word, she walked in and threw her coat onto the bed. I tried to offer her a cigarette but she wouldn't even turn to look at me.

“Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Brian Kim.” I said in the most goddamn charming voice I could ever make. But without caring what the hell I was saying, she said,

“Ya got a watch on ya? And how old are ya anyways?”

“Twenty-three,” I replied back.

“The hell ya are,” she said in a sneering voice.

I asked for her age, but she kept saying shit about me having a watch or not. Then she stood up and started taking off her dress. It was a very weird and unusual feeling. It felt even stranger to try to continue on this crappy conversation with her.

 “What’s your name?” I asked, feeling very awkward.

“Look. Shut up with the whole introducing shit and let’s just do this already,” she replied back in a stingy voice.

I was hoping to ask more questions, but felt a bit scared to do so. Suddenly, she came up to me and sat on my lap. She then threw the rest of her clothes on to the bed and started unbuttoning my shirt.

“Listen cutie boy. I haven’t got all night. Stop talking and let’s get going for God’s sake,” she said in an irritated voice.

Somehow, I didn't really feel happy and satisfied by the fact that this prostitute was sitting on my lap and was taking off my shirt. I didn't even feel sexy. So I did what I could to make up the lamest lie I could ever say in my entire life.

“Listen, I don't feel so good right now, so is all right with you if we don’t do it at all? Of course I’ll pay you and all.” I said

“What’sa matter with you, boy?” she said.

“I recently had a surgery and I’m still recuperating.”

“What surgery?”

“On my wuddayacallit, you know.” I replied.

“Why would you then try to do this damn thing if you had surgery there?” she said with a loud voice, still sitting on my lap.

I could see that she was getting more annoyed by the minute, so I took out 10000 won from my pocket and gave it to her.

“Hey, why are you only giving me half?! It’s 20000 won a night idiot!” she blurted out angrily.

“No, from what Hentai said, it was 10000 won a night and 30000 won until the afternoon.” I replied back.

“”What the hell…” she said as she was walking out. As soon as she was out, I shut the goddamn door and condemned myself for doing such a stupid thing.