I found this to be an exquisite example of Salinger's classic writing style. The long winded descriptions are punctuated not only by the author's own repeated apologies, but also by the occasional profound idea ---( Isn't it clear? Don't those cries come straight from the eyes? However contradictory the coroner's report - whether he pronounces Consumption or Loneliness or Suicide to be the cause of death - isn't it plain how the true artist-seer actually dies? I say (and everything that follows in these pages all too possibly stands or falls on my being at least nearly right) - I say that the true artist-seer, the heavenly fool who can and does produce beauty, is mainly dazzled to death by his own scruples, the blinding shapes and colors of his own scared human conscience.
My credo is stated. I sit back. I sigh - happily, I'm afraid. I light a Murad, and go on, I hope to God, to other things.) --- is just one example. The pace may be too slow for some but if you tough out the slow areas, you'll be rewarded in a few paragraphs by a phrase, a paragraph or a sentence that bursts your heart with its glory