Salinger hated the cover of the story collection named by his British publisher as Esme, not Nine Stories, and Salinger detested the cover that featured what he saw as a “dishy” blonde. Esme for him represented the innocence of childhood that for many had been destroyed by the war for veterans. I find it very moving, not without humor or sweetness. In the beginning of the story, an invitation to a wedding in England has prompted a soldier in the American Army to contemplate, briefly, a return visit overseas. Though he decides not to go, he also determines to jot down some "revealing notes on the bride as [he] knew her almost six years ago." He was aware that he ought to get the wastebasket out of the room, but instead of doing anything about it, he put his arms on the typewriter and rested his head again, closing his eyes.

The narrator notices the “enormous-faced, chronographic-looking wristwatch” Esme is wearing. He asks her if it belonged to her father. She answers that it did. Then she says: “I’d be extremely flattered if you’d write a story exclusively for me sometime.” The narrator replies that he will if he can, but that he isn’t “terribly prolific.” “It doesn’t have to be terribly prolific!” Esme responds excitedly. She requests simply that the story not be “childish or silly,” and notes that she prefers “stories about squalor.” Charles misses him exceedingly," Esme said, after a moment. "He was an exceedingly lovable man. He was extremely handsome, too. Not that one's appearance matters greatly, but he was. He had terribly penetrating eyes, for a man who was intrinsically kind." I am rereading Nine Stories by J.D. Salinger, titled by an English publisher For Esme: With Love and Squalor, reviewing my favorites separately along the way. “Esme” is one of those stories. The collection focuses on how the US was doing post WWII. Salinger was a veteran, having fought at the Battle of the Bulge and other famous battles. He also worked in counter-intelligence as well. When he was at the Battle of the Bulge he was carrying six chapters of the Catcher in the Rye, and he also wrote as many as twenty short stories during the war. Sure," said Clay. "You know what my mother wrote me? She wrote me she's glad you and I were together and all the whole war. In the same jeep and all. She says my letters are a helluva lot more intelligent since we been goin' around together."Bir süredir kitap seçimlerimden yana oldukça şanslı olduğumu hissediyorum. Ama yine de itiraf etmek gerekirse, uzun bir süredir beni bu kadar etkileyen, çiviyle yerime çakan öyküler okumamıştım. So Salinger is my breath of fresh air from that feeling. I find I don't want to read anything but short stories right now.

Now, the narrator says, comes the "squalid, or moving, part of the story, and the scene changes." He is now in Bavaria, Germany, and V-E Day has taken place—though he writes about himself in the third person as Staff Sergeant X. He has had a nervous breakdown and has developed a significant palsy in his hands and his face is affected by muscular tics. He keeps to himself now, traumatized by his experiences in the war, and does not seem to take much interest in anything, even in his former friends. One friend invites him to come and listen to a radio program with some others, but Sergeant X declines. I'm training myself to be more compassionate. My aunt says I'm a terribly cold person," she said and felt the top of her head again. "I live with my aunt. She's an extremely kind person. Since the death of my mother, she's done everything within her power to make Charles and me feel adjusted." Here's the main thing she taught me: each of us has an inescapable responsibility to take whatever talent we have been given on this earth, and to develop it as far and as well as life allows.

My ex once told me that kids stared at me because they sensed that I was one of them. I don't like him for saying that. I answered that I'd like nothing better but that, unfortunately, I was pretty sure I wouldn't be able to make it again. The story jumps ahead in time. “This is the squalid, or moving, part of the story,” the narrator notes, “and the scene changes.” It is now V-E Day, and the narrator is staying in a “civilian home” with several other soldiers in Bavaria, gaunt, shaken, recovering from a nervous breakdown and unable to sleep. He refers to himself as “Staff Sergeant X” and his friend – jeep partner and “constant companion from D Day straight through five campaigns of the war” – “Corporal Z.” We learn later that Z’s name is Earl; he remarks that X’s hand is shaking tremendously, and recalls how he looked “like a corpse” not too long ago. Evidently X’s situation was a grave one.