I'd be willing to say that the vast majority of my readers didn't know me when. Didn't know me when I was shaving my head and wearing my dad's jeans... when I was dying my hair purple and had a profound dislike of most people... or even before that, when I was just questioning everything and generally feeling sorry for my early-teen self.
It was that time in my life - 13, 14 years old - that I knew exactly where the copy of Catcher in the Rye was located in the school library.
During particularly lousy days, dealing with phonies and people who just didn't get it, I would go into the Library, grab the book, open it to any page and read. And Holden Caulfield... I loved Holden Caulfield.
Eventually I grew up. I reread the book recently and (thankfully) it just didn't resonate with me. But I could see why it did. I could see a glimmer of my awkward, self doubting self.
RIP, JD Salinger. I promise I won't put flowers on your grave.