Dear reader,

How much can you truly enjoy a book and enter its world when you don’t fully understand what’s going on? It’s a question that Patrick O’Brian’s Master and Commander pushes to the limits, unless you happen to be a 19th century naval expert.

Dominic is a historian and has written a book about Nelson and yet even he still admits that when he first read it, he struggled with some of the dense terminology. Like many, he only came to love the series when he resigned himself to letting the nautical jargon wash over him.

In the end, glossing over the ropes and sails, I found much to draw me to the stories – not least the friendship between the lead characters, Captain Jack Aubrey and Dr Stephen Maturin. As we said on the show, they could be the greatest example of male friendship in literature. Do you agree? What are the most compelling stories of friendship that you have read? Let us know by writing to [email protected].

Dominic referenced the Nelson memorabilia sitting on the shelf behind him in this week’s episode and we thought you might like to see that up close so he’s shared a few pictures. The first is of the book plates given to him by Peregrine Nelson Hood, a descendant of Nelson’s brother and also President of the Nelson Society. The second shows Dominic’s tiny Nelson tankard, perfect for a few sips of grog.

We’ve become used to exceptional correspondence from The Book Club community, but even so, your responses to last week’s question about the best opening lines were incredible. We’ve dedicated a section in this week’s newsletter to those.

I said I felt the absence of Master and Commander once I’d finished it, but thanks to the show’s reading schedule, the mourning process didn’t last long. Next week, we’ll find ourselves in the heat of 1930s Alabama. We look forward to meeting you there.

Until next time,

“The identity I am thinking of is something that hovers between a man and the rest of the world: a mid-point between his view of himself and theirs of him — for each, of course, affects the other continually. A reciprocal fluxion, sir. There is nothing absolute about this identity of mine.”

Dominic cites the importance of the above quote and the idea that it is this “reciprocal fluxion” that makes the ship, the Navy and the book, tick. But what quote stayed with you after you finished the book? Email us and let us know.

We’re taking recommendations here to share with the Book Notes community. Tell us what fellow members should pick up next by sending two or three sentences about your novel of choice and we’ll feature as many as we can in future weeks… Email [email protected].

We had an incredible number of you write in to tell us your favourite first lines. Here’s a selection of your messages.

“How can you beat: ‘I write this sitting in the kitchen sink’, from I Capture the Castle by Dodie Smith?,” asks Lyn. Zoe agrees, saying it “instantly grabbed me and drew me into the world of Cassandra and her chaotic family in this enchanting, amusing and atmospheric novel about growing up”.

Gemma chose Roddy Doyle's Paula Spencer about a recovering alcoholic. “[The] best opening line ever: ‘She copes.’”

“In my opinion, Franz Kafka’s Metamorphosis has the best opening ever,” said Anna. It opens: “As Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from uneasy dreams he found himself transformed in his bed into a gigantic insect.” Hannes agreed, adding that the opening line “hits you like a truck with this guy’s reality you do not wanna be stuck in. It’s like a story within a sentence already.”

Lawrence suggested: "Many years later, as he faced the firing squad, Colonel Aureliano Buendía was to remember that distant afternoon when his father took him to discover ice,” from One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel García Márquez.

Sarah looked to The Book Club favourite, Donna Tartt’s The Secret History and its opening line: “The snow in the mountains was melting and Bunny had been dead for several weeks before we came to understand the gravity of our situation.”

“If I am out of my mind, it's all right with me, thought Moses Herzog." The opening to Saul Bellow’s Herzog is top of Andrew’s list as it “perfectly sets the tone of a novel that revolves around a man trying to make sense of an increasingly insane world where a great majority of the book takes place strictly in his head.”

In a change of pace, Cornelia suggested a re-read of E. B. White’s Charlotte’s Web which begins with: “Where's Papa going with that axe?" She says: “Those six words paint a vivid picture and introduce the central moral dilemma of the book in one fell swoop. Brilliant.”

Sujata asked whether anyone could truly better Jane Austen’s "It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife” from Pride and Prejudice. “Instantly unputdownable,” she says.

From Albert Camus’s The Outsider, Michael recalls, “Maman died today. Or yesterday maybe, I don't know.” He says: “It’s alarming, to me, because the writer seems to be aware of the need for sorrow and grief that he doesn’t feel.”

We can’t wait to see your responses to Master and Commander. Write in to [email protected] with ‘review’ in the subject line and tell us how you dealt with the complex language and style of O’Brian. And which other male friendships in literature you love.

But first, your thoughts on The Catcher in the Rye.

Your polls

You were split over whether The Catcher in the Rye can speak to teen experiences today, with those who felt it still has something to offer just edging it with 54% of the vote.

“I live with a teenager and Holden’s world-weariness is alive and well in 2026!” says Sheila. “But for my J.D. Salinger money, Franny and Zooey is the superior exploration of the misery of inauthentic life and a more satisfying read, and one that can be read again and again. I lack the patience for Holden at my present age but the Glass family dynamics and love are enduring.”

And Nick told us: “Holden expresses universal emotions that are inseparable from growing up: longing for childhood, fear of adulthood and the intense self-absorption of adolescents. I taught teenagers for 20 years and every one was a Holden in some respect: funny, moody, maddening. Salinger’s gift to these kids was the reassurance they were not alone.”

Rhoda offered an alternative point of view, saying she believes the book is really for adults. “[It’s] for those who don’t understand young people and their choices, who dismiss them as lazy and lousy and forget all the trauma and complexity that can lie behind their actions,” she said. “For those who think there is nothing good about young people and don’t see the love and hope they are squashing out (look at how Holden talks about his sister). If adults are reading Catcher and not reflecting on how they’ve misunderstood or dismissed young people, I think they’re missing the point. If adults think Holden is just angsty and can’t see why, I think they’re missing a chance for empathy.”

Sarah was in the camp who thought Caulfield had nothing to teach today’s teen. “My teenage daughter and I agree that this book does not need to be taught in schools anymore. Didn’t do much for me 40 years ago (except fuel a fascination with New York City) and did even less for her more recently. Nine Stories and Franny and Zooey have both stood the test of time, though, in my opinion. Love Salinger, but not this book.”

Rebecca agreed, saying: “This book was required reading for me in high school and I vividly remembering thinking that Holden was absolutely insufferable. I’ll admit that I probably didn’t have the most sympathy for others at that age, so some of the nuance of the book may have been lost on me, but maybe that’s the point? As a teenage girl, the quality of the writing didn’t feel like it quite made up for being forced to read about a confused teenage boy - I already had to deal with enough of those in my real life back then!”

When it came to scoring The Catcher in the Rye out of 10, you were aligned with our presenters’ scores. There was a tie this week, with six and seven being the most awarded scores.

Pam agreed with Dominic’s 6/10 and suggested: “Fictional teenagers are more interesting in groups, where their self-knowledge is developed through friendships and rivalries: Never Let Me Go, A Secret History, Murakami's Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage and Norwegian Wood, and The Hunger Games.”

“I went to the same military school that Salinger did (Valley Forge Military Academy) though I went to the college so wasn’t there for the same reasons,” said Mat, who gave the book 3/10. “So I did love the parts where he is talking about the school as it was a bit nostalgic. Having said that, I’ve never read the book before and it just so happens that my son was reading it for his high school English course, so I borrowed it from him to read it after hearing the podcast. I couldn’t get past page 100, it was just too boring for me to read.”

Tom, however, saw something in the book’s dealing with grief. “Helluva novel. It captures the loneliness and meaningless of life after losing someone,” he said. “I feel that the way in which the novel captures Holden’s grief is not given enough credit. For me, that’s the point of the novel, not the disaffected teenager or coming-of-age story, which would otherwise be dull. Holden is wise beyond his years because of his loss, and the juxtaposition with his naive teenage clumsiness shines a light on the challenges of coming to terms with a life changing loss so early in his life.”

The war’s legacy

Several of you wrote to us about a theme you felt was missing in our discussion – that of the Second World War and PTSD.

“The ‘youth’ culture of the post 45-50 era was very much one of two divides,” said Mike. “One group was a returning group of early 20s combat veterans, very much still in their youth, but who had witnessed horror unimaginable to those who weren’t there. The second cohort of youth were non-veterans who were coming of age in the shadow of older PTSD-afflicted siblings and parental authorities navigating a society dealing with duty, compliance, etc.

“In short, an era of ‘bobby-soxers’ and ‘foxhole kids’ that were practically the same age, but inhabiting entirely different universes. I think Holden Caulfield was a sort of avatar for Salinger. The book takes a ‘foxhole kid’ and dresses him up as a bobby-sox youth. The slang, the language – these were straight out of the late 1930s and spoken by the very same kids Salinger was seeing die in France, Belgium and Germany.”

Partha reads the book as “an allegory of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD)… Holden doesn't like people but doesn't want to be alone. He's always been told to talk softer. Hates officers (‘phonies’). He pretends he's been shot and wants to return to a pre-war period (run away with his sister) but knows he can't. He has pathological problems with women. The (adult) readers in the 1950s and 1960s (in both the United States and the UK) would have identified, but it gets lost in generations since.”

Unfilmable?

In Book Notes, we asked why you thought The Catcher in the Rye has so far proved “unfilmable”. Rachel had one interesting idea: “I recently watched the film One Battle After Another around the same time that I read The Catcher in the Rye. It may be because of the fact I engaged with them at a similar time but I do feel the style and pace of that film would be an interesting way to translate The Catcher in the Rye to the screen.”

Speaking to the youth

Mirella, 19, wanted to let us know she read Salinger’s novel for the first time this summer, and loved it. “Holden captures the frustration of feeling lost and powerless in a world governed by rules he doesn't fully understand,” she felt. “He is the biggest critic of phonies but cannot fully process the heavy weight of all his emotions and contradictions that make him a phony even when talking to us as the reader. Holden represents the fleeting nature of the teenage years and the dissatisfaction of feeling caught between two stages of life: childhood and adulthood. Dominic questioned if we can truly call it a coming of age novel if Holden's character development is incomplete, but I feel this is the true message of Salinger's narrative: the sense of the undefined and the incompleteness of being a teenager.”

Alternates to Holden

We asked if you thought any other books better captured the teenage experience, and Alex suggested Beneath the Wheel by German author Hermann Hesse, from 1906. He encourages any Salinger fans to pick it up. “Its protagonist filled the same niche for me as Holden Caulfield did for others,” he says. “It is a story about a sensitive teenager, whose deep depression and anxiety permeates every facet of the page and has a truly brutal ending, but it is well worth a read.”

The teenage essay story

John says as teens, he and his friends were obsessed with what they called “The Book”. “We glommed on to Catcher in the mid-seventies after it had been banned by our rural Canadian school board (among many other books brimming with vice, each collected and shared, illicitly and with verve),” he says. “It became our nightly bible, sections of it read aloud while driving to hockey practices, or during aimless midnight jaunts in our parents' 'borrowed' vehicles.

“These discursive chats inspired my high school English essay which posited that Salinger had created the Caulfield siblings' names to accent their roles within Holden's solipsistic universe. Hence, Holden presented a liminal ‘holdin' pattern’ between youth and adulthood; Allie as his ‘ally’, and probable deceased twin (and hence death of self); Phoebe and DB as light and dark, an idyllic youthful past and a fraught adult future. The essay, now hilarious in its earnestness, suffered from the passions of an uncritical mind, and got a deserved B. Suffice it to say, Salinger made me want to write.”

See you next week for To Kill a Mockingbird.

The Book Club Team