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If Salinger had experienced a spiritual epiphany through The Gospels of Sri Ramakrishna, it was difficult to discern from his bearing. He remained depressed and withdrawn. He had suffered from depression for years, perhaps throughout his entire life, and was at times afflicted by episodes so intense that he could not relate to others. The irony of Salinger’s frequent depressions was that they were usually caused by loneliness. Once having taken hold, his melancholy estranged him from others, deepening the very loneliness that had spawned it.

Salinger expressed his depression through his characters, pain that can be felt through the despair of Seymour Glass, the frustration of Holden Caulfield, and the misery of Sergeant X. Yet most of those characters were granted salvation, a road to wellness, often found through human connection. And though the author often shared the sorrow of his characters, he rarely possessed their cures, and there came a time in Salinger’s life when living vicariously through the fictional epiphanies of his characters no longer sufficed.

Salinger’s attraction to Vedanta was simple. Unlike Zen, Vedanta offered a path to a personal relationship with God, something that Salinger found enormously attractive. This allowed him hope, a promise that he could obtain a cure for his depression, live the resurrection he had gifted his characters, reconnect with himself and those around him, and find God and, through God, peace.

In July, Salinger decided that he was finally ready to resume work, the fourth time in seven months that he had made such a claim. This time, he attributed his renewed initiative to the hot July weather rather than any religious inspiration. In fact, he would not finish his next story until November. Once completed, it would be saturated with his new faith.

• • •

By the autumn of 1952, it became clear to Salinger that he could no longer live in New York City and still work. Manhattan was too neurotic. It held too many distractions, too many people, and not enough solitude. He had spent seven of the past fourteen months out of the country, and he simply couldn’t afford to keep a Manhattan apartment while constantly seeking refuge from the city. He had accumulated a modest bankroll from the sales of Catcher, but in 1952, no one anticipated the novel’s continued success. So, with frugality in mind, Salinger began to consider purchasing his own home. It would have to be away from the city but not an impossible distance from the offices of The New Yorker. Not surprisingly, he seems to have ruled out a suburban environment. Instead, he was drawn to the more rustic areas that had inspired him in his youth and where he had spent his childhood summers. He contacted his sister, Doris, who was recently divorced, and asked if she would accompany him in his search for a home. Doris readily agreed, and she, her brother, and Benny the schnauzer set off for New England.

They first traveled to Massachusetts, where Salinger fell in love with the old fishing towns along the coast of Cape Ann. After looking at a number of properties, he decided they were too expensive, and the trio moved on. They then traveled along the Connecticut River north into Vermont. In the town of Windsor they stopped at a diner for lunch. There, they struck up a conversation with a local real estate agent named Hilda Russell. She offered to show them a piece of property in nearby Cornish, New Hampshire, that she felt might be perfect for Salinger.

The village of Cornish is 240 miles north of New York City, but to Salinger it seemed a world away. Set among rolling, wooded hills, the rural hamlet exudes tranquillity. On a drive along its lonely roads, as the landscape dips and climbs, the wholesome scenery of Cornish woods, fields, and farmhouses is occasionally broken only by an exalting view of the Connecticut River Valley. Cornish was indeed ideal for Salinger. Seeking anonymity, he could have found no better place. The village itself is nearly anonymous. It has no town