I remember when I heard J.D. Salinger had died. I was a senior in high school, idealistic, on my way out and identifying with Holden Caulfield, Salinger’s most noted creation. 

    At the time, it seemed sad to me that Salinger, who made headlines about his reclusive lifestyle for some 50 years by then, had died without publishing anything for almost as long. I mourned the opportunity to read more from the prolific author behind The Catcher in the Rye and Franny and Zooey. Said mourning was as foolish as some of my other high school decisions, I suppose.

   Now, three years after his death, it has been announced that five new books by Salinger will be released beginning in 2015, not to mention the tell-all biography and accompanying documentary about his life to be released this month. And though my freshman self would have jumped for joy, I can’t help but wonder how the infamous recluse himself would feel about his life and works being published now that he isn’t around to withhold permission. I have to agree with Jen Chaney, of “The Washington Post,” who argues Salinger would have an intense hate for all of it.

   Of course, authors have been published posthumously before. Indeed, that’s how we get much of the literature we have from women and minorities. But seeing as how Salinger was both extremely white (much like his character Holden) and extremely famous, I don’t think the “the publishing industry ignored them while they were alive” holds for this instance.  Furthermore, there’s something about the way media has changed since much of that, and the intrigue that has followed Salinger for much of his life — that makes this seem much different than the any previous occurrences, and somewhat exploitative to boot. I shudder to think what the man who locked himself away to avoid curious fans and reporters alike would say if he knew his intervening years received such publicity.

     But why do I even care, anyway? Salinger was, by all accounts, not a very nice man, and maybe his heirs deserve whatever profits they can get from his crazy late years. They’re certainly not bothering him now, wherever he is. I guess it’s not just the question of Salinger himself that gives me second thoughts about this whole thing. It’s the overall attitude surrounding it, the one that says we deserve to know all about Salinger’s life, that we’re owed the works he churned out while he was shut away from all of us. And why? Did Salinger give himself up to us when he wrote a great American novel?

     It seems an awful lot like the way we feel entitled to the latest paparazzi photos of Kim and Kanye or Brangelina. As if becoming famous means sacrificing any and all personal privacy, simply because these people were gracious enough to share a part of themselves with us through their talent. This sense of entitlement only becomes stronger when a celebrity dies and can no longer speak for his or her own right to privacy.

   All summer, entertainment news plastered pictures of Cory Monteith and his friends and family all over our news media after his tragic death. It seemed like they told us that we were allowed to be a part of their grieving because some of us watched a small part of Monteith’s life onscreen as he portrayed Finn Hudson.

    Here at MSU, we have Ulysses S. Grant’s presidential library as well as an extensive exhibit on John Grisham. At least these people gave up the information to us of their own volition, if only by agreeing to take on the duties of the presidency. It seems to me this new need to know every moment of a celebrity’s life might not be so new after all. Museums of one sort or another have been around for almost as long as people have. We’ve always been fascinated by those who gain notoriety among us. The question, though, comes in when the amount of information we want doesn’t align with the amount they want to give. That’s why the new Salinger developments bring up ethical questions we’re very familiar with.
    That said, I still plan to read those new novellas when they come out in two years’ time.