Really, John?

Took my mom to the doctor this morning and perused the November O magazine, which, as waiting room mags go, is not as good a find as a Martha Stewart Living but much better than Everyday Rachel Ray and acres better than, say, Redbook.

John Cusack was talking about books that meant something to him (!), and among such hyper-left dross as Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail '72 (yes, John, I get it, you'd play a better Hunter S than John Depp would, yes) was a quick aside on Franny and Zooey:

"it's what got me started on theology,"

or words like that. I should have written it down on a fly-in. But, anyway - REALLY? Who reads that and sits around thinking "Yes, I should really look up what upanishads are!"? Or "Man, this Fat Lady who's also Jesus...what's that about?"

The only stuff I learned from Salinger was how to say "goddam" all the time and how to treat my mother badly. And to call my wife "buddy." And to offer someone who's feeling down a tangerine, sardonically, as in "Want a tangerine?"

Wait, I guess I have learned a lot.