"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.

Adaptation by Yeji Park

The Catcher in the Rye: Adaptation

WRITER SAYS ... 

Due to midterm and AP, I did not have enough time to enjoy The Catcher in the Rye. For the course assignment - to write a short adaptation from one part of this book - I spent only two hours or like that in writing :-( Maybe if I have enough time someday, I'll start the book again, and revise this writing to be a better adaptation...

                                                                                                                                                                                                  

Mr. Sung’s office was damn large. There was a big display standing at one side of the wide wall, which was full of goddam trophies. That was a real phony. The man never plays sports with us. All he do during the class is to shout the hell loud “Class, rally!” No one ever followed his instructions, unless he becomes mad and explode, boom, bang. And all the trophies the volleyball team achieved – if there is only one damn truth in this world, it is that trophies are all gained by the players, not that skeleton-faced old man.

I looked up at Sung. He was folding his arms and rested his legs on a table. That’s another reason I hate that man. He must be under an illusion that he is not that old, that forty-or-something-like-that aged man has freedom to sit in a way twelve-years-old boy may do. Staring into my eyes back, Sung muttered, “Come in, girl.” He was always muttering, outside class. He thinks that muttering is effective as hell, to scare students. Hope he stops all of his foolish delusions. It got on your nerves sometimes.

“Hello, sir,” I said. “I got your words from Mina. You didn’t have to do all that. I’d have come over to say good-bye anyway.” Mina is one of the few nice girls in this goddam school. She is small, cute, and makes these old men remind of their own little girls and smile. Mr. Sung asked Mina to ask me to stop by and say good-bye before I leave here.

“Have a seat there, girl,” old Sung said. He pointed over a small chair next to the damn shining display standing.

I sat down on it. “So what, um, do you want to talk to me?”

He started getting serious as hell. “So you’re leaving, huh, this afternoon?”

“Yes, sir, I guess I am.”

Sung closed his eyes and again muttered something. Damn mutter.

“Pardon, sir?”

“I’m thinking what piece of advice shall I give to you before you leave… Let me talk about this, the rules, okay? So… what do you think, about this rule?”

I hate Sung using word like “okay”. That makes him be seen damn young and cool. And let him stop asking me damn questions. Sung is the last person who listens to others’ opinion; I know it, he knows that. Pretending to be open and 수용적 – that’s so phony. I shook my head. “I’m not sure, sir.”

“Well, then I’ll tell you my frank opinion… Rule is what everyone can, and should, keep. It should accompany everyone’s consents, but beforehand, should satisfy the basic morals. The absolute morals, if I say. True ethics that can be applied everywhere. Understand?” He looked into my eyes, and slowly repeated the word, “A-B-S-O-L-U-T-E.”

Fuck up. There’s nothing such like A-B-S-O-L-U-T-E morals. Morals may be partly true, but it isn’t all true. Maybe in the world there are some people who don’t give a damn to kill their wife or knock off banks. So how many people will not give a damn for not keeping trivial-as-hell rules, such as “You should return to your dorm before 7PM”, “You should not sleep during self-study period time”, or “You should open all the doors of your wardrobe before houseparent comes for cleaning inspection”? Foolish rules. But anyway, I nodded my head. “Yes, sir, rules.” I smiled gently, in hope that he would just shut up and let me leave this fucking room. But – as expected – he was not going to stop there.

“What’s the matter with you, girl?” old Sung said. He said it pretty tough, too, for him. “How many penalty points did you receive this month?”

“Well… I’m not sure, but I remember something like twenty-eight, I guess.”

“Twenty-eight. And your total point is?”

“I guess eighty-nine, sir.” I moved my ass a little bit. The chair was damn rocky.

“I decided to withdraw you from the school because you knew absolutely nothing about community life and importance of rules.”

“I know that, sir. I’m a total ass. You couldn’t help it.”

“Absolutely nothing.” He muttered. Then he muttered again, “A-B-S-O-L-U-T-E-L-Y nothing.” I hope he just stops repeating the same phrase over and over. Damn sarcastic for Sung, let us give a warm applaud for him

“Don’t you have anything to say about this, girl? That you are regretful, or you have anything that you newly learned about social life, like that…?”

I know what a bullshit he wants to hear from me, so I started to shot the bull for a while. That I was a real moron, I have no caring mind for people living with me, I think that I started to understand how Sung feel about me and how Sung wants to help me get out of this swamp of sin… (Boy, Sung really loved that praise. Swamp of sin. What a grand word.) That kind of stuff. The old bull.

The funny thing is, though, I was sort of thinking of something else while I shot the bull. I was thinking about tree saplings that I planted along the road when I received special training for gaining forty penalty points. I was suddenly curious; what was the name of that tree? Hope that I can someday see those saplings fully grown. Thinking about those trees was quite helpful to bear Sung’s presence. It’s funny that I don’t need to think too hard when talking to teachers. All of a sudden, though, Sung interrupted my bullshit.

“How do you feel about all this, girl? I’d be very interested to know. Very interested.”

“Well, I’m not sure… All this is not yet familiar to me. Maybe next Sunday, I’d realize the situation much clearly… When I don’t need to come back to school. But well, right now, I think I cannot give you clear answer.” Then I shrugged my shoulder. I knew that this wasn’t the sugary kind Sung would love to hear, but I was getting irritated about continuing inquisitions. I glanced the display stand next to me. I suddenly had this strong feeling to kick the stand and let all those glittering trophies fall to the floor. But I judged it would be wiser not to do so.

Sung sighed. That sigh made me unable to bear more; it was me, not him, who wanted to make that goddam sigh. “I gotta go, sir. My mother will be here within two hours. I need to pack my things and get prepared to leave.” I stood up and walked toward the door. Sung sighed again. What the hell.

After I shut the door and started my way to the dorm, I think I heard something. Maybe Sung shouted, “Be good girl!” Hope that I heard wrong. Be a good girl as hell. I’ll never yell “Be good girl!” to anybody, even to a three-years-old sniffling lady. It sounds terrible, when you think about it.

Holden and The Littel James by Lee Eun ji

Introduction: This passage is based on chapter 10 where Holden decides to go the the Lavender Room in the hotel he's staying and digresses into talking about his little sister Phoebe. This Holden is inside KMLA putting on a clean shirt to go to the cafeteria and describes his little brother James. The character James is largely based on my own little brother and I'm idealizing him like Holden does with Phoebe.

*    *    *

           I didn’t have much to do. I had to write this essay for some teacher, but it wouldn’t take long. The one thing I hate is being all studious when you don’t have much to do. So I went to the closet, took out a decent-looking shirt, and I went in the bathroom and washed and changed my shirt. What I thought I’d do, I thought I’d go upstairs to the cafeteria and see what the hell the people were doing. There was always some hooligan throwing some goddam act in the cafeteria.

           While I was changing my shirt, I damn near gave my kid brother James a buzz, though. I certainly felt like talking to him on the phone. Somebody with sense and all. But I couldn’t take a chance on giving him a buzz, because he was only a little kid and he wouldn’t have been up, let alone anywhere near the goddam phone. I thought of maybe hanging up the phone if my parents answered, but that wouldn’t have worked either. They’d know it was me. My mother always knows it’s me. You never get away with anything with my mother. But I really felt like shooting some crap with little James for a while.

           You should see him. You never saw such a sweet little kid. He’s really smart. I mean he’s had all A’s ever since he’s started school. When he was just a four-year-old puny little ball of skin and hair, he’d be drawing these pictures of meadows and barns that just about killed you. As a matter of fact, I’m the only dumb one in the family. Even my parents are pretty damn smart with degrees and all. I’m the only really dumb one. But you ought to see little James. I sometimes call him Jamsieboo just for the hell of it. But he doesn’t throw a fit like other kids do when you call them names like Jamsieboo. It’s real nice and all. He has this sort of coarse black hair that was cut really short because he tried cutting his own hair and messed up. It wasn’t weird or anything though because he has a nice little round head. It’s probably longer now. My mother sometimes waxes it on special occasions. But it’s nice either way. He’s only ten. He’s quite plump. But a nice plump. A blueberry-plump. I watched him once from the window when he was playing in the backyard. He would be running around the shrubs mimicking birdcalls, and that’s what he is, blueberry-plump. You’d like him. I mean if you tell little Jamesieboo something he really listens to you. He doesn’t pretend to listen and think of something else like other phonies do. I mean you can tell him about all the phony assignments the school makes you do here and he’ll look right into you eyes and sympathize. Really sweet kid that James. He once came to the school that’s secluded in the north and surrounded by mountains. That’s probably the only decent thing in the school. The mountains. He loves nature. It just about kills him. He can name all the trees up here, I’m not kidding. He can tell the difference between a birch and a larch just by looking at the bark. He’s always saying that if he was ever born again, he would ask God to make him a tree. A kid saying that, it kills me. He’d take my hand and start telling me all the trees and birds he’s been drawing and if he could come visit often to draw me in the trees. I’d tell him yeah he could. He knew that I was lying though. And his eyes became all droopy and sad. Those big doe eyes. He can get very emotional sometimes. I mean for a boy. And something else he does is he reads these books over and over again. Only they’re fantasy books with dragons and adventures. The books are all tattered and folded and I tried to get him to read other books, but he still reads them. I could read him a sentence and he’ll know exactly what chapter it is on and his eyes get all sparkly and bright when he talks about what’s happening in that particular moment. If it’s a part he really likes, he gets up and starts acting the scenes out. That just kills me. Little James. I swear to God you’d like him. He’s ten now and not such a tiny little kid any more, but she still kills everybody – everybody with any sense, anyway.

           Anyway, he was somebody you always felt like talking to on the phone. But I was too afraid my parents would answer, and then they’d find out I wasn’t doing that essay and probably throw some goddam fit. So I just finished putting on my shirt.

The Big Read: The video says things better than a teacher can.

This is a great debate discussing two great books.  I think the discussion about Catcher is particularly helpful, and may jog your brain a bit before you begin writing.  Have fun and get it done before our last class.

Adaptation by Song Hoyoung

Intro:

Holden plans to meet his girlfriend at Myeondong at 2 o’clok, and he has some time to kill. He starts walking toward there, from City Hall. On the street, there are a lot of couples, celebrating Christmas ahead of time.

*     *     *

It was just as cold as the day before, but there still were goddam lots of couples on the street. It was near Christmas, so stores had red and green decorations all over the place, with little light bulbs wrapped around it. It was around noon, so the light bulbs were all off, and light bulbs look pretty ancient when they are turned off. What really killed me about the scenery of the street was the way an underwear store hung a glittering “Merry Christmas!” placard on its sign board, right next to “BYC”. I mean, what does an underwear store has to do with Jesus’ birthday?

It was then when I saw something that isn’t so phony among the things that I’ve seen in a week. There was this married couple walking in front of me, holding each other’s hands, in the flood of young couples. They were in their early thirties, and the woman was holding her boy’s hand on her left. They weren’t rich, I could tell by their clothes, but they looked really happy. Especially the wife seemed very excited about being in Myeongdong with her husband. I imagined how she would have longed for things that she had to give up as she married the guy, going out to Myeongdong being one of them. She reminded me of Mathilde Loisel in Guy de Mauppassant’s The Necklace, only kinder and more devoted to her family. Anyway, what interested me was the boy who was walking on the left of his mom’s. The mother was excitedly talking to her husband, as if she has regressed to a young fresh girl that she was ‘bout ten years ago, so she paid no attention to her son. He was just walking along, with his right hand held in the air as her mom held it, and he was keep looking on the ground, the way kids do. The best part is that he was walking on the yellow line in the middle of the road. I guess he wanted walk in a straight line. In the mean time, he was singing a melody that I couldn’t recognize, but was very familiar of. It was a song that every Korean kid sings when he’s a little kid, but I couldn’t recall what that song was. So he was humming this melody that I knew by my heart, rather than my brain. On this street that leads to Myeongdong, people were talking loud like hell, cars zoomed by, brakes screeched in front of people, and this boy, this young boy was looking down on the yellow line, trying to follow it, humming this song. It wasn’t so bad. A boy like him walking among the stupid couples, and Merry Christmas placard on an underwear store didn’t look so bad. It wouldn’t intimidate Jesus that badly, too.

Adaptation by Ahn Taehyung

The Catcher in the Rye (Fan Fiction)

A scene when Holden tries to have a conversation with the prostitute.

             In a lousy motel room located in Miari, Seoul, I kept walking around the room, waiting for this prostitute to show up. I usually didn’t get so damn peculiar like this, but it was a little different this time. I kept hoping that she wouldn’t look like a phony ajjumma, who would dress up in fake Gucci dress and accessories. After few minutes, somebody knocked on the rusty door of my room. I instantly realized that it would be the prostitute and opened the door nervously.

             “You the one Ho Yoon said?” She asked me with a pretty demanding voice, and I instantly knew that she is not too goddamn friendly.

             “Is he the guy, who was distributing the erotic commercial papers?”

             “Yeah, that’s him.” She answered without even looking at me and came into the room. Without saying anything, she started to take off her coat and dress.

            “Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Tae Hyung An.” After I introduced myself in such a phony way, I waited for her reply, but none came.

             “So, how old are you?” I asked.

             “Twenty-two, ya got a watch on?” She said with an ignorant voice. It was so goddamn obvious that she didn’t give a damn about me and just wanted to finish this thing quickly. Man, I felt so strange and peculiar about this situation, so I kept on trying to have a conversation with the prostitute.

             “Do you work every night, I mean what do you do when you are not working?” I knew this was a stupid question to ask, but I just asked anyway for the hack of continuing the conversation.

             “I dunno’ I sometimes go to movies or just sleep.” As soon as she answered me, she started to take off her dress, so I told her if we could just have a conversation. She looked at me skeptically and sat on the chair next to her. I started to babble like an idiot about some random things, but it seemed to only annoy her more. At last, she sort of forced me to sit and sat on my lap.

             “Hey, you look pretty cute, but I don’t got all night to spend with you, so let’s hurry up.” She started to take off her clothes and after taking them off, she started to unbutton my shirt, so I told her to stop and pushed her away.

             “Jeez, take it easy, I mean I really can’t do this because I’m sick.” I said.

             “Sick, what do you mean sick?”

             “I mean, I got this surgery on my wuddayacallit, so I don’t feel real well.” This was the stupidest lie I’ve ever made up in my whole life.

             “Well, huh, then why the hell did you ask for a girl, when you are sick?” Her voice sort of intensified and I knew that she was getting very annoyed. I have sort of become sick of this whole lousy situation, so I really wanted to end this. So I told her that I would pay her, and asked her to leave.

             “Here’s 5000 won, good bye.” I spoke with a little bit of disgust. Hell, what a mean nervous girl she was.

             “Hey I’m supposed to get paid double, so it’s 10000 won.” She started to play this little game with me, so I started to get a little pissed off at this whole phony situation.

             “No, I already had this conversation with the paper guy, so I ain’t paying you no more.” I forced her to take 5000 won and closed the door quickly and told myself that I was an idiot.