My Salinger Year (2020) Movie Script

I grew up in a quiet suburban

town just north of New York.

On special occasions, my dad

would take me into the city

and we would go and get dessert

at the Waldorf or the Plaza.

I loved watching the

people around us.

They seemed to have

interesting lives.

I wanted to be one of them.

I wanted to write novels,

and speak five

languages and travel.

I didn't want to be ordinary.

I wanted to be extraordinary.

Those memories came storming

back to me last year

when I came to visit my

best friend in New York.

I was only supposed

to stay a few days,

and then return to Berkeley,

where my boyfriend

was waiting on me.

But something shifted.

I wanna stay in New

York for a while.

A while?

What do you mean a while?

What about your semester?

Yeah, but see that's just it,

I don't want to analyze other

people's work anymore, Karl.

I wanna write.

In New York?

Yeah.

In New York.

Isn't that what

aspiring writers did?

Live in cheap apartments

and write in cafes?

Yeah, I know, but

it's what I wanted.

My boss says we're going

paperless, all emails.

It's driving me nuts

with everyone writing

about nothing,

answering thanks or

worse, you're welcome.

My colleague sends

me emails to ask me

when I'm having lunch.

I hope this is just a

trend that will phase out.

I miss your rants.

Everyone in Berkeley

is so serious,

and the jogging

and wearing Tivos.

Fucking Tivos?

I'm like this big cloud of East Coast

irony haunting Southern California.

Turning everything into Ash.

That's me.

Does Karl feel the same?

Um, it's not really

the same for him

'cause he's been there

for a couple of years

and the university sorta

treats him like a star.

Huh, well-

Hey, Jenny.

I don't know exactly how

long I'm gonna be staying

in New York.

Don't worry, just keep

making yourself at home.

Eat anything.

Okay.

MA in English literature,

University College in London,

I suppose that would

make you more appealing

to some publishers,

less to most.

You published poetry?

Yes, yes, in the Paris Review.

I just won their

student contest.

Leave that out. Publishers

avoid wannabe writers.

Oh, that is what I want

to do though. Eventually.

Oh, I got it.

Not a publisher. How

about a literary agency?

Great.

The oldest in New

York. Do you type?

Uh, I took typing

in seventh grade.

Of course you don't type.

She's gonna ask

you if you can type

and you are gonna say?

Yes.

60 words a minute

But do you type on a typewriter?

It's very different from typing

on one of those computers.

Yes.

What do you like to read?

Everything.

Laurie, Hammet, Donald Westlake.

I just finished "A Sentimental

Education" and I loved it.

It was so contemporary,

I was amazed

but to be in this field,

you'll need to read

authors who are alive.

I love Flamel.

I like Westlake. He's funny.

I guess you can start

after Christmas.

We'll talk about Jerry then.

Ah, Jerry.

I'm sure you've

heard that he's crazy

or senile or a

misanthrope, all lies.

He's not the problem.

It's these people who

relentlessly call for his address,

his phone number, asking to

be put in touch with him.

Or even with me.

Reporters, students,

university deans, producers.

They can be persuasive,

manipulative,

but you must never ever

give out his address.

Do you understand?

I understand.

Good, remember,

there's no shortage

of college graduates

who want this job.

Be prepared for long hours.

Pam will give you a key

Pam, okay.

Thank you so much.

I can't tell you how

honored and thrilled I am.

No need to be honored,

thrilled maybe.

Margaret is pretty thrilling.

I'm Daniel by the way.

That Jerry.

I didn't know yet

what a literary agency was,

but it felt like I'd stepped

closer to the world of writers.

I was to be surrounded by

god-like literary names.

No doubt their proximity

would inspire my own writing.

Well, Congratulations

on your new job.

Here's your key.

Do not lose it.

We will expect you at

8:00 AM sharp, January 8th.

I never went back to Berkeley.

New York was to be my new

home, writing my new life

with a coveted job

to pay the rent.

Hi.

Hey.

Hey, come, come, come join us.

Hi.

This is Joanna.

This is Mark, this is Lisa.

They just got engaged, so-

Oh wow. Oh my goodness,

congratulations.

Sit down.

The office is incredible.

It's like nothing's

changed since 1927,

and I'm guessing

my boss represents-

- Anne Rice.

- The Pope.

Thomas Pynchon.

J. D. Salinger.

- No way.

- He's still alive?

Yeah, he is, he lives

up in New Hampshire

in basically total isolation.

Reporters are always trying to

ambush him in the local diner

or try to sneak

onto his property.

I love "Catcher In The Rye",

but "Franny and

Zoe" is my favorite.

My friend Kat used to

work at his publishers.

And one night, she

was working late.

Like 1:00 AM late, and the

phone rings in the office

and keeps ringing.

So she picks it up and she

heard someone screaming.

The manuscript is okay!

I saved the manuscript

from the fire.

Salinger?

His house had burned down

and he called in the

middle of the night

assuming someone would

be at the office.

Isn't that crazy?

I read that he's still writing,

but that he doesn't

wanna publish.

Writing makes you a

writer, not publishing.

Publishing is commerce.

Such a crock of shit, Don.

This is some preemptive

strike argument

in case he never sells a novel,

if you ever finish writing.

I will, but today

is about Joanna

and her crossing

to the dark side

with the book munchers, cheers.

Cheers.

Thanks.

I had met Don days earlier

in a socialist bookstore

where he worked part time.

Haven't seen you

around here before.

Let me guess, you're an

intern at the New Yorker.

Besides fighting materialism

and raising class awareness,

Don was into boxing,

Norman Mailer, and?

I'm writing a novel.

He was straightforward

about being a writer.

I admired his confidence.

Do you know the Panama Cafe?

It's on Avenue Way, it's kind

of like a writers' hangout.

I do actually. Yeah,

they have poetry-

Poetry reading.

Love is the one

who's hard to find,

love's the one who

knows your mind,

love's the one who

feeds your soul,

love's the one to have and hold.

But hold a minute, hold how,

there's a hundred hungry

ways to hold her up

or hold her down.

Will she still be

able to get around.

Will she be able to hold

her breath.

Where the hell were you?

Cut the goddamn grass today

or else I'm selling

your K car, you hear?

Dear Mr. Salinger,

I read your book,

"The Catcher In The

Rye" three times now.

It's a masterpiece, and I

hope you're proud of it.

I mean, you certainly should be.

Most of the crap that's written

today is so uncompelling

it makes me sick.

I mean, not too many

people write anything

that even approaches sincerity.

And I don't mean to

say that everyone

who reads your book gets it.

Not at all, lots

of people don't.

I mean I can give you

plenty of idiotic examples,

but I won't.

Hell, you might be

laughing out loud right now

at the thought but

I think I get it.

Maybe I don't.

Wow.

Well, you are here.

I am.

We know you can type, hooray

but have you ever

used a dictaphone?

At ease.

It can be tricky at first,

but I'm sure you'll

get the hang of it.

Play, rewind, and I think

those control speed.

- Hugh can help.

- Hugh?

You can get started with these.

This is our technological

area. It is all very new.

This is a Xerox machine

you'll use to make copies

of my correspondence.

I believe that is the button

you press to make a copy.

Did she give you her speech

about the evils of

the digital age yet?

Max, this is Joanna,

my new assistant.

Hello, Joanna. Nice to meet you.

So there are no computers?

We choose not to use computers.

I've seen them in action.

They just make more work

for everyone, wasting time.

All right, as you can see,

we have a relaxed,

cordial environment.

We ask that you don't

wear dungarees, sneakers,

T-shirts, sweatshirts,

especially the kind with hoods.

No open-toed shoes,

but it's perfectly fine to wear

trousers if you're a woman,

and no need to wear

stockings in the summer.

Bare legs are perfectly fine.

And if Jerry calls you just say,

"Yes, Jerry, I will

let my boss know."

Jerry Salinger?

Well of course, Jerry Salinger.

And above all, you

never ever call him.

Why would I

call Jerry Salinger?

Jerry doesn't wanna hear

about how much you love

"The Catcher In The Rye".

And he doesn't want

to read your stories.

Don't have stories.

Good, writers make

the worst assistants.

Get to work.

The proprietor

hereby grants to the publisher.

Starting from the day...

I'm Hugh, you must be Joanna.

Yes, hi. Nice to meet you.

If you need anything,

I'm right here.

I take care of contracts, legal,

copyrights, the fun stuff.

Salinger's letters, fan mail.

You need to answer

them using these.

There's one for each

type of inquiry;

adaptation, autobiography,

autograph, photograph,

interview, celebrity auction.

Mr. Salinger does not wish

to receive mail

from his readers.

Thus we cannot pass

your kind note onto him.

1963?

That's the year he stopped

responding himself.

You need to take the new one

based exactly on this verbatim.

No change.

So Salinger doesn't

get any of his mail?

Not one. You shred

them in the shredder.

You should always read them.

Yes, indeed.

- Just in case.

In case of what?

We've been extra careful

since the Mark

David Chapman thing.

John Lennon's assassin.

When the police

arrived at the Dakota,

they found Chapman calmly

sitting on the sidewalk

reading "Catcher In The Rye".

At his trial Chapman said,

that the big part of him

was Holden Caulfield?

And the small part of him was,

the devil.

Did Chapman write to Salinger?

We'll never know, since

we throw away the mail.

Read everything thoroughly.

Use your judgment.

I think about Holden a lot.

When I first think about him,

I get a stupid grin

on my face, you know?

Thinking about what a

funny guy he is and all.

But then I usually

get depressed as hell

'cause I only think about Holden

when I'm feeling

very emotional and,

I can get quite emotional.

This boy is so earnest.

A major loser is what he is.

- Hey, he is not.

- He is.

He's very sweet.

He's a little funny,

but he's sweet.

And he cares so much.

I can't send him a

letter that says,

"Dear kid, Mr. Salinger

has no interest in you.

So please fuck off."

Look, this one is

from the Netherlands.

Me and my wife trace Holden's

steps around New York.

Did you know that the ducks

in Central Park

stay through winter?

My God, literally a bunch

of obsessive freaks.

I haven't read

"Catcher In The Rye".

You're kidding.

I haven't read any Salinger.

Wow, everybody's read

Catcher at the very least.

Yeah, well, at the risk

of disappointing you,

there are actually a few

writers that I've yet to read.

Well, I'm shocked.

Okay, look, this girl is

ready to go to bed with him.

He's 70 something.

Don't be naive.

Good literature is a

powerful aphrodisiac.

I never had that

teenage Salinger moment.

We never read "Catcher

In The Rye" at school.

And later I was interested

in difficult, gritty fiction.

Hey, hun.

Jenny's not here right now.

Oh, I'll be in the kitchen.

I imagine

Salinger's books

to be insufferably cute,

quirky and precious.

I didn't want to be entertained.

I wanted to be provoked.

My shoulder hurts from

carrying all those manuscripts.

- Hey, Joanna.

- Hi.

Oh, I found a writer for

Max out of the slush pile.

The stories are so good,

I read them last night

and I was sobbing by the end.

What's the slush pile?

The slush pile?

Okay, it's like the most amazing

and most horrible

part of our job.

The stack of manuscripts

nobody wants to read.

Basically it's all the

unsolicited query letters.

People with no referral

who write to agents cold.

The slush pile is

like 99% crazy shit.

Though some of it is

seriously hilarious.

But very, very occasionally

you find something amazing.

Your boss doesn't let you read?

I'm available to

read manuscripts,

should that be something

that you're interested in

at home or my free

time of course.

Manuscripts?

No.

Tabs wrong, margins wrong,

proper names wrong,

really, everything wrong.

You can start retyping today.

And here as a bonus

is today's dictation.

Forget about manuscripts.

You need to get that right.

Is it on?

As you know, I believe

that computers make work

rather than alleviate it.

But I agreed to install

one in the office

on a trial basis because-

It came in an elegant black.

Because Hugh

discovered that people,

I don't know who

these people are

and why they don't have

more important things

to do with their lives,

but people have been publishing

whole Salinger stories

on their personal e-webs.

Web blogs.

Web blogs, ridiculous.

This is blatant

copyright infringement.

And we're going to have

to scour the worldwide web

to put an end to it.

And that is all the

computer is to be used for.

Sorry to interrupt.

Just passing through.

Don't mean to cause a fuss.

We can turn it off now.

Uh, it's already off.

Okay, good.

And then maybe the little

coat that goes over it,

I've seen it in

pictures. Thank you, Max.

I'm afraid

we don't have...

There were

hundreds of us, thousands maybe,

all girls working at literary

agencies or publishing houses.

We answered calls

for our bosses,

ushered in the writers,

fetched them water.

Never belying the fact

that we wanted to be

writers ourselves.

We whispered about

the lucky ones,

the ones who were

mentored by their bosses,

who were allowed to take

on books or clients.

The ones who broke the

rules to show initiative.

The ones who wanted

it badly enough.

Please find two

copies of the contract

with St. Martin publishing.

Let's face it. I

was a secretary.

Hello?

Hello? Hello?

Hello.

Speaking to? It's Jerry.

Hello, Mr. Salinger.

Who is this?

This is Joanna.

Who?

I'm Joanna, I'm

Margaret's new assistant.

Oh, Margaret's new assistant.

Nice to meet you, Susanna.

How do you like your job?

I love it.

Good to hear.

I'm calling to

speak to your boss.

Unfortunately, she's

not in right now.

Can I leave her a message?

Oh, no. I'll call back.

Well, I'm sure you

have a lot of work.

It was very nice

talking to you, Susanna.

I'm looking forward to

meeting you in person.

You too.

Have a great day.

Goodbye.

I never say have a great day

Jerry?

He's deaf, explosion

during the war.

- She just left?

- Yes.

Better go tell her.

Quicker.

Margaret. Sorry.

I'm sorry to disturb you,

we just got a call from,

your client just called.

I wonder which one.

I have to take this.

Go ahead, boss. I'll wait

for you at the restaurant.

You did the right thing.

Salinger wants to

publish a book.

The press is gonna go nuts.

No press, no one must

know, that's our job.

So it's true. He's been writing.

Well, no, it's an old story.

Hapworth, publisher.

Clifford Bradbury

approached him to publish it

as a standalone book.

He has been thinking

about it for eight years.

The publisher wrote

to him back in '88.

Jerry liked the fact that

he wrote on a typewriter.

How did he get Jerry's address?

He addressed it

to J.D. Salinger,

Cornish, New Hampshire.

Postman delivered it.

That's brilliant.

Wait, wait, wait, wait,

wait, wait, wait, Margaret.

What kind of publisher is this?

It can't be Little Brown

or any major house,

they would have just called you.

Oh boy, you're gonna

love this, Max.

It is a tiny press in Virginia,

kind of a one-man operation.

Marygold press.

Mary Bell's Press?

Yes, that's it. You know them?

They publish poetry and I

like a few of their poets.

Are you

fucking kidding me?

A one-man press is going

to publish the first book

from Salinger in three decades?

That's fucked.

Publishing Salinger is different

than publishing poetry.

Thank you.

Obviously, we have

to proceed carefully.

Find out everything we can

about this Clifford Bradbury.

I'll call 'em.

I won't mention Salinger

and I'll ask for his catalog

and a sample for our records.

Good thinking.

Hugh, get me the contract

with the New Yorker, please.

What's Hapsworth?

It was published in

the New Yorker in '65.

Took up almost the

whole magazine.

Pretty common in those days.

Esquire did it, Cosmo.

That's where I got my start,

buying stories for a magazine.

For Cosmo?

For Playboy.

How did you end up

working for Playboy?

Enough chit chat, Joanna.

Back to work.

Hi, is this Clifford Bradbury?

Hi, this is Joanna Rakoff.

I work for ANF

Literary Management.

The job of an agent is

to open up opportunities

for their clients.

But when it came to Salinger,

the logic was reversed.

We had to shield him

from the outside world,

bolstering his reputation

as a complicated recluse.

But publishing

Hackworth was going

to get a lot of attention.

Nobody understood

his change of heart.

Night, Jerry.

Maybe I thought I understood.

Maybe he realized

that what he wanted

wasn't what he wanted at all.

Are you serious?

You're like, yeah,

visiting me in my room.

What are you writing?

Writing a very bad

poem.

Listen, Brett and

I were talking and,

look, when you first

got back to New York

and I said that you

could stay here,

to be honest, I thought you'd

go back to Berkeley with Karl.

You're kicking me out?

No, like I'm happy

to have you here.

And you can stay if you want.

But what did you plan on

doing, what are your options?

We disinfected the apartment

'cause the man before

had seven cats,

but young, married,

couple like you

take better care of it, yeah?

We're not married.

The man next door, he

takes care of little things

if you need it.

He's Mexican, he drinks,

but he works hard.

How much?

- 560.

- We'll think about it.

No, we'll take it.

Oh, good deal.

You're Jewish, yeah?

- Me?

- Mm?

No.

I like very responsible.

Let's sign the paper.

The lease is gonna

be under her name.

Hm?

Could just given ourselves

a day to think about it.

This is New York

city, young lady.

The big time.

I barely make $300 a week.

No, wait, we split

the rent, booba.

I'm gonna pay my half.

I just have to avoid

the credit check.

Look, I'll take care of

the furniture, all right?

There's no sink.

What?

There's no sink in the kitchen.

I knew that there was something

off about the apartment

but I couldn't put

my finger on it.

And there's no sink

in the kitchen.

We just signed a lease for

an apartment with no sink.

But we can do the

dishes in the bath tub,

it's no big deal.

There's a tub. Trust me.

Dear Mr. Salinger, please

forgive my bad English.

I work much at

night and I like it

because I don't have to

talk to people so much.

My heart is troubled, just

like Holden Caulfield-

Holden is like my

grandfather, you know?

A no-bullshit man.

He taught me a lot

about human nature.

He warned me, I will be

disappointed by most people.

We would be very honored

if you would serve as our

commencement reader next year.

We would, of course provide

you with accommodation

in a very fine inn

where your privacy,

which I know is

important to you,

would be scrupulously respected.

The fishing helps me, a nice

refuge from my nightmares.

It's been 27 years

since Vietnam.

They just keep getting worse.

You know, seeing

your dead friends,

having their guts ripped out.

I'm sure you must have

similar type dreams

being a veteran who-

Does not wish to receive

mail from his readers.

Thus, we can not pass along

your kind note to him.

We thank you for your interest

in Mr. Salinger's book.

My daughter died from leukemia.

She was a talented young writer.

I'm founding a small literary

magazine in her memory,

and I'd like permission

to call it Banana Fish.

The Salinger was her-

Titles can't be copyrighted?

Absolutely, Jerry.

I could write a novel and

call it "The Great Gatsby"

if I wanted to.

So yes, she can call her

magazine Banana Fish.

Great.

But the agency can't advise her.

- Really?

- Yup.

I'm just telling you this

for your own edification.

Send the form letter

and finish shredding.

That's absurd.

Well, of course,

you're right.

She's gonna start yelling at me

the minute she's off the phone.

Pleasure to talk to

you, Jerry, as always.

Goodbye.

Crap sandwich.

Hugh?

Yes.

Do you have the

Salinger contract ready?

Yes, almost there.

Ask Pam to call a messenger

so we can get it over to

the New Yorker before 6:00.

- The New Yorker?

- Yes.

Probably best if I just

bring it myself then, no?

I grew up reading the New Yorker

following my father's ritual.

He would start with

the movie reviews

and then turn to the

talk of the town,

and then the features.

In college, everyone

was into The New Yorker.

Hi.

My boss wanted me to make sure

this was delivered right away.

Thank you.

Can I help you with

something else?

No, no, no, no.

That was it. Thanks.

I was at the Algonquin

serving him a martini.

Anyway, I used my Cosmo

ID to get in the room.

I recognized the agent,

he did not recognize me.

And we spent the evening talking

about William's tragic

death and the agency.

And?

And I lost my job at

Cosmo for not showing up

the next morning.

But I kept the man's

card, and a year later,

I gave him a call at the agency.

Hi.

And he hired me, and

the rest is history.

Joanna, what is it?

Something wrong?

No.

She was walking by looking

cold and hungry and forlorn.

And I invited her in.

Joanna, please sit down.

I really don't

want to interrupt.

Don't be silly.

This is my wife, Helen.

Nice to meet you.

We were just reminiscing,

telling tales about

the lost generation.

Hemingway, Fitzgerald.

Do you know the agency

represented Fitzgerald?

Of course, yes.

And Dylan Thomas, Langston

Hughes, Agatha Christie.

And you've read all

their work, of course

I have, however, my boss

suggests that I read writers

that are alive.

Speaking of living writers,

are you familiar

with Rachel Cusk?

Don't take the bait, Joanna.

I am. Yes, I am, I am.

Her first novel,

"Saving Agnes" was huge.

It won the Whitbread, I think?

And everyone that I knew

in London was reading it.

It was our lives basically,

or it was my life.

What is it about?

Well, it's a coming-of-

age tale, definitely.

I guess it's about the

ways in which women

need to get over this self

-loathing of their bodies say.

I'd say it's more about how

the patriarchy imposes rigid

and terrifying ideas of

femininity onto young women.

How that paralyzes them, and

strips them of their dignity.

I don't know, it doesn't feel

quite that didactic to me.

It's a very introspective novel.

It doesn't really read

like social commentary.

Okay, Joanna meet Rachel Cusk.

- Hello.

- No, no.

- I'm so sorry.

- It's okay.

It's lovely to meet you.

You're a novelist yourself?

Joanne is my assistant.

I don't hire writers.

I'm very particular about it.

Really?

I thought all

publishing assistants

were writing novels

at their desk.

If you can write a

novel at your desk

while fetching coffee for

a tyrant like Margaret,

good luck.

Well, you really

have to love it.

You have to want it more than

anything in the entire world.

More than a boyfriend or a

closet full of pretty dresses,

or a fancy job that

makes everyone jealous.

You need to be

okay with saying no

when you're invited to a party,

and you really need to be okay

with having your mother

and father hate you.

Joanna, don't you have

some dictation to finish?

- Yes, I do.

- Margaret.

Those St. Martins contract memos

need to go out immediately.

- Absolutely.

- Okay.

It was nice to meet

you all, thank you.

- Bye.

- Lovely to meet you.

Hi.

You got a letter from your

high school sweetheart, Karl.

Does he know about us?

Yeah, I'm sure I mentioned it.

Joanna, did you

break up with him?

Like a proper breakup?

"Dear Karl, it's

not you it's me.

I'm sorry, it's over," you

know, the normal stuff?

We haven't talked

in three months

and he knows that I'm not

going back to California.

Did you talk to the

landlady about the heating?

Why do you need a heater?

Your love should keep you warm.

I was hoping you might find

the time to write back,

but I bet you must be

getting a lot of letters.

But I feel like writing again,

if you don't mind me doing so

'cause well, I feel

depressed as hell.

And I figured it's the

honest thing to do.

Your characters are the

only ones in literature

who are truly like me.

I mean, they take action.

They don't sit around

contemplating suicide.

They pick up a gun and they

shoot themselves in the head.

He's challenging Jerry.

It's a game and

you're falling for it.

I feel this boy just

deserves a proper response,

not our usual bullshit.

Bullshit?

You are confusing

judgment with empathy.

I have read hundreds of

letters just like this one.

It can get overwhelming,

but just do your job.

Did you send my letter

to Mr. Salinger?

Did you send my

letter to Salinger?

You have no right

to keep my letter.

You can't read

other people's mail.

I wat at least expecting

a confirmation.

Dear Mr. Salinger,

I hate school.

Especially English class.

"Catcher In The Rye" is

the only book I liked.

My teacher is going

to make me flunk.

She says I'll have

to repeat my year

and that's gonna

be so embarrassing.

So I asked her, "What can I do?"

"Write a letter to J.D.

Salinger," she told me.

"And make it so good

that he'll write back.

If he writes back,

I'll give you an A."

Please write back,

so I can get an A.

An A earned by trickery

means absolutely nothing.

You'll soon find

out that young women

are often held to double standards

when it comes to success.

You need to prove to

yourself and to your peers

that you do not need

special treatment.

If you desire an A

or a passing grade,

you must do the work

assigned to you.

And if you want to uphold

the spirit of Holden,

try not to care too much

about how people judge you.

This might mean

being more humble,

but it's the only way.

Sincerely, Joanna Rakoff.

You've become quite the expert

in what Salinger would say.

"If you want to uphold

the spirit of Holden",

have you read Catcher yet?

You haven't?

Unbelievable.

Brett got accepted

at Case Western.

I thought he's going

to Brooklyn Law.

He's from the Midwest.

He misses it, you know?

So you'll stay here

until he's done?

Of course not. I'm

going with him.

We're engaged, remember?

Wait, you're moving?

I thought you loved your work?

I do, but Cleveland

is a cool city.

We're already looking for

a place in Shaker Heights.

Wow. Suburbs.

Have you been writing lately?

I don't really write anymore.

I know we used to say that

we wanted to become writers

but that was more your thing.

I kind of grew out of it.

You make it sound

like a teenage phase.

Isn't that what it was?

I don't understand.

You're dropping everything

for Brett's project?

Whoa, Joanna stop.

I don't wanna be a writer.

You keep saying you want to

write, but you work long hours

for other writers while Don

is at home writing his novel.

Oh, we both write,

and we're supportive

of each other's work.

Well, then I'm

happy for you guys.

Please be happy for me.

I'm sorry.

Why don't we go to the

Waldorf and get dessert?

I'll have the $12 cheesecake.

Maybe we'll catch my boss

on her martini

ones or something.

I gotta get back to work.

Everything to your liking?

Yes, thank you.

May I get you a cab?

It's such a nice day,

I think I'll walk.

It is a beautiful day.

You enjoy it then.

Thanks.

Hello.

Hello, Susanna.

How are you today?

I'm great. How are you?

How's the weather in Cornish?

It's very pleasant.

Tell me something, Susanna.

I was looking at those books

from this fellow, Clifford,

in Virginia, Mary Bells Press.

Yes.

What do you think of them?

Honestly, I think the

design isn't great.

I think they'd really benefit

from hiring a designer.

But as far as the books

themselves, I've only read a few.

I do like some of the

poets they publish though.

Well, you read poetry?

I do, yes. A lot.

Do you write poetry yourself?

I do.

Oh, I'm very glad to hear

that.

Poetry is food for the

soul. Never forget that.

Susanna.

Food for the soul,

I've got it.

Susanna, it's important

to write every day.

You know that?

I'll keep that in mind.

Jerry wants to meet Clifford.

Gosh, gotta find

somewhere discreet.

Well, it won't be.

Jerry's driving down to

Washington on Wednesday.

They're meeting in a cafeteria

at Georgetown University.

That's awful. Awful.

Do we trust this

Clifford fellow?

I don't know.

So we're presuming he's

not gonna tip off The Post

that the world's

most reclusive writer

who barely leaves his home,

who hasn't given an

interview in decades,

will be having lunch at Georgetown

University on Wednesday?

Yeah.

You have mentioned this

possibility to Jerry?

I have not. Jerry thinks

of Clifford as a pal.

If I say anything

negative about him,

Jerry will not take it kindly.

That's it. Back to work.

Oh, Joanna.

Tell me what you think of this.

Judy Blume?

- You've heard of her?

- Of course, I have.

I read all of her

books as a kid.

I love her. Everyone loves her.

She was a client of my

predecessor, Claire.

She's not written a

book in a long time.

Have you ever read Judy Blume?

No, I don't read

children's literature.

But they're so wonderful.

I'm sure, Claire had

impeccable taste.

You wanna go out?

We're broke.

So? We'll split a beer.

It's open mic night at the KGB.

- What?

- You can bring a poem.

They'll love you.

- You're not funny.

- I'm not trying to be.

Your poems are good.

I have a Judy Blume

manuscript to read.

Judy Blume?

Judy fucking Blume?

I loved "Then Again

Maybe I Won't".

You liked Judy Blume?

Yeah, I mean, I was a kid

once and like a hero, Tony,

my parents were working class

and moved to middle-class area.

- It's about social class.

- No, it's not.

It turns you on that I like

pedestrian stuff, doesn't it?

To be given Judy Blume's

new book was like

going from sitting in the

stands to hitting a home run.

I felt lucky to

be on the inside.

- Well?

- I like it.

Really?

But what do you make of it?

I'm not sure what you mean.

Well, it's not a

kid's book, is it?

No, no. It's about

kids for grownups.

It's about female friendship.

But will adults buy a book

about kids? Can I sell it?

Lots of books have child

protagonists, "Oliver Twist".

This is not Oliver Twist,

but you would buy it?

I would.

Many people would.

There's the nostalgia factor.

You know, my entire generation

grew up on Judy Blume.

- Maybe.

- Definitely.

All right, you've had your fun.

I've put new tapes on your desk.

Close the door.

Judy, Margaret's expecting you.

Coffee?

That's very exciting. Yes.

What is it?

- Judy Blume's here.

- Shit.

Michael, hold on one second.

That's today?

I thought we had more time.

She's going to blow

this, isn't she?

I think so.

Hey, we've been renovating,

moving everything around

which is why your books are

down there and out of order.

Don't worry about it.

I'm Joanna, I'm

Margaret's new assistant.

I'm such a huge fan of yours.

That's very sweet of you.

Really nice to meet you.

Judy, how lovely to see

you. Come into my office.

Joanna, why don't you

answer your phone?

There's someone at the

reception who wants to see you.

Me?

- Are you Joanna Rakoff?

- Yes.

Is that your real name?

'Cause it's so ridiculous,

it sounds fake.

You have no right to keep my

letter from J.D. Salinger.

I'm sorry. Who are you?

Because of you, I'm

going to fail English.

Is everything all right here?

- No.

- Yes. Yes.

No.

Why don't we go downstairs

and get a coffee, okay?

Joanna.

Aren't you supposed

to be in school?

Who do you think you are?

It's my job here to

answer Jerry's mail.

Oh, it's Jerry to you.

Is he your sugar daddy?

No, I've never

even met him, okay?

Mr. Salinger does not

want to receive his mail.

So instead you lecture

me like you're my mother.

You're right, okay?

I'm sorry. I apologize.

Your letter was different

and I thought you

deserved a real response

instead of our, I'm sorry,

we can not pass along

your kind note bullshit.

So I wrote you

something more personal.

What makes you think

your advice is better

than some bullshit response?

I'm going to summer school.

So thanks a lot, Ms. Rakoff

You sent a personal

letter to one of the fans

and she came storming in here?

Oh my gosh.

Do you have any

idea how many times

when I was answering

Salinger's letters

I wanted to write

my own one back?

- Really?

- Of course.

"Dear Sir, obsess

over another writer.

I hear Kurt Vonnegut

answers his own fan mail."

I mean sometimes

you just wanna go,

"Hey, loser."

And then others,

they're so engaging.

You just want to

champion them, you know?

Yes, yes, exactly.

But you've crossed the line.

It's a huge rabbit hole

ethically and legally.

I'm taking you off

Salinger's mail.

No, no, Hugh, please?

I love these letters so much,

I promise you this won't

happen again, I promise.

Judy?

- It's all over.

- Judy?

- She's leaving us.

- For whom?

Does it matter?

I were Judy, I

would have left too.

Joanna.

Why?

Tell me, I'm curious.

Why would you leave?

No, I'm really, really sorry.

I didn't mean that, I just...

I'm just sad to see

her leave, that's all.

Well, until you can

articulate a reason

that will enlighten us,

you can go back to

typing your dictation

and fetch Daniel's

prescriptions when you're done.

Close the door.

Okay, you think that

when a man falls in love

he doesn't look at

another woman, hm?

But I have news for you,

every man in this world

is looking at every woman in this

world and deciding whether or not-

He wants to fuck her.

She's sexy, right?

Don, I think you

might be in a hole.

You maybe wanna stop digging.

You think women don't

look at other men? We do.

We even look at other women.

We just don't drool

while we do it.

Booba, booba. I drool

exclusively for you.

- Hey.

- White wine?

No, thanks. I'm gonna go.

I know, I actually

came to give you this.

What's this?

It's from Karl.

He's coming to

Washington for a concert.

He really wants you to go.

You've been in touch with Karl?

He wrote you a letter

but you never answered.

- Wednesday in DC.

- Yeah.

What is it?

Someone should go to the meeting

in Washington with

Clifford Bradbury.

Make sure that he's prepared,

and walk them to the

agency's protocol.

He did sound jittery

on the phone.

I can't leave New York,

but I suppose I could send-

Me!

- You?

- Me.

Why?

Take notes and assist Clifford.

Just let me do this

for the agency.

You are to go to Washington,

be the agency's eyes and ears.

Find out who this

Clifford person is.

You are to meet

with him beforehand

and debrief him afterward.

But you are not to

meet with Jerry.

Jerry must think they are

meeting on their own, understood?

You will not regret this.

We'll see about that.

Hey!

I've got a gift for you.

My birthday was two months ago.

Well, birthdays

are for Hallmark.

It's, it's my novel.

You finished it?

Don't you wanna read it?

Oh, of course I do.

Thanks.

Congrats!

Mr. Bradbury?

Yes. Joanna?

- Hi.

- Nice to meet you.

- And you.

I've widened the spine see,

to give the book some length

because it's too thin.

I also retyped it all

from the New Yorker.

I didn't scan it

and good thing too,

because there were

a few small typos.

New Yorker doesn't make typos.

Oh yes, small ones

but typos still.

Salinger is such a

stickler for details.

- I made two mock-ups.

- Wow.

Do you think I should

have made more?

No.

Oh, I think I should've

made more, yeah.

Mr. Bradbury, it's

gonna go very well.

Just forget everything

that you've heard

about Mr. Salinger.

I think that you'll find that

he's very straightforward.

It's important that

you just be yourself.

What happened?

Jerry Salinger

paid for my lunch.

But how did it go?

- We agreed on everything.

- That's great.

Because I just

missed him then, huh?

- Except the typos.

- What do you mean?

He did not want me

to correct them.

Yeah, he seemed peeved

that I fixed them.

You know, I thought

at one point he'd say

let's just forget the

whole thing, you know?

Did he say why?

He wants it printed exactly

as it ran in the New Yorker

as if the typos were

actually intentional,

it makes no sense.

Hey, don't fix any more typos.

Don't tell anybody

about the book.

No interviews.

That would ruin the whole deal.

Yeah, we don't want to do that.

Great work, Mr. Bradbury.

My boss is going to

be very pleased, okay?

Bye.

- Jo!

- Hi.

You got my invitation.

Yeah.

I'm so glad you're

here. You look great.

So do you.

I'm glad you're here, Jo.

I've been wanting

to go apologize.

What?

I was angry when I

sent you the letter.

I wrote stuff I didn't mean.

No, don't apologize.

You should be angry.

I'm angry at you for

not being angry at me.

Well, I'm not angry and

that's absurd by the way.

You hurt me, and I

needed to unleash.

I deserved a proper

breakup, you know?

"Karl, I'm leaving you."

The usual stuff.

felt

depressing when you left.

I didn't read, I didn't

read your letter.

Why?

I couldn't make it past Jo.

Nobody else calls me Jo, so...

I want you back in my life.

You know, even if

it's just a phone call

every once in a while.

You were my best friend.

I miss you, Jo.

I miss you too.

I've learned that as

phony as it may be,

you can't go around revealing

your goddamn emotions

to the world.

Most people don't

give a flying hoot

about like what you think

and feel most of

the time, I guess.

And if they see a weakness,

I mean why for God's sake is

showing emotion a weakness?

Boy, do they jump

all over you, right?

They seem to get right

in your goddamn face

and revel in the fact

that you are actually

feeling something.

Is it good?

What?

The manuscript, is it good?

It's interesting.

But you hate it?

I don't hate it, or

maybe I do hate it

and that's why it's good.

- It's weirdly addictive.

- But?

I don't want to read

about his sex life.

No one wants to read

about his sex life.

Maybe I'm just annoyed

by his nonchalance.

Or because?

He's writing and I'm not.

I understand.

What's going on?

Well, keep us posted

and thank you.

Apparently he shot himself.

Wait, who, who shot himself?

Daniel, Joanna. Daniel

committed suicide.

The Daniel?

In the living room while

Margaret was in the bedroom.

This can't be right.

Daniel is a beautiful man.

He's sweet, he's kind.

This can't be happening.

But he looked fine.

He was bipolar, Margaret took

care of him all these years.

He was her brother?

Lover, for 20 years.

Wait, are we talking

about the same Daniel?

Daniel was married to

Helen whom you've met.

He lived half the

week with Helen

and the other half

with Margaret.

They shared his care.

They shared him.

Margaret shared a man

with another woman?

Joanna, if anyone calls, tell

them she's working from home

and take a message,

and no mention of this.

What about if it's Jerry?

Especially, if it's Jerry.

Can you please do

that some other time?

Fine.

Thanks.

Margaret's

office, Joanna speaking.

Hi, Joanna, it's Jerry.

How are you?

Hi. I'm well, how are you?

How's the weather down there?

Muggy.

Is your boss around?

No, I'm afraid she's out.

She's been out a lot lately.

Yeah, she's very busy.

Lots of meetings.

Is there anything I

can help you with?

Let me ask you something.

This Clifford Bradbury fellow.

Sure.

what do you make of him?

I like him.

Sometimes I think he

can overthink things,

but he just doesn't

wanna let you down.

Have you been writing every

day?

A lot of days.

They've given me more

responsibility around here.

So I've been

reading manuscripts.

You're a writer,

Joanna, aren't you?

Not an agent, not a secretary?

I don't know.

Sorry, I missed that.

I'm a little bit deaf.

Yes. Yes.

I'm a writer.

To write, even if it's just

15 minutes in the morning,

protect that sanctuary, okay?

Don't get stuck answering

the phone, Joanna.

You're a poet.

What's it like working

for the New Yorker?

Well, why don't you come

by the office one day,

we'll show you around.

I would like that very much.

Do you write yourself?

It's okay, we won't

tell your boss.

I published two poems

in the Paris Review,

I'm working on

some new material.

Well, we'd be happy to take

a look at your material

when you feel it's ready.

That would be great. That

would be really great.

- Well, let's cheers to that.

- Okay.

It's satirical stuff I like.

I know, but the New

Yorker's fiction is a joke

and that soppy talk of the

town thing,

Don.

Oh, I'm sorry.

I know you love that shit, that,

"Oh, let's all go meet

up at the Algonquin.

I do so wish you can

join us" bullshit.

So when's the wedding?

It's Columbus Day

weekend, right?

Or am I making that up?

It's next weekend, Don.

Joanna, you're coming, right?

Yeah, yeah. Exciting.

You're an asshole.

You know that, right?

I knew that if I told you

about it, you'd start planning

like let's rent a car,

let's stay in this B&B.

What am I gonna wear?

And then you'd buy that dress

and you'd make all these plans,

and then you'd flip out

at me when I told you

that I wanted to go alone.

You wanna go to your best

friend's wedding alone?

Listen, I don't need to justify

myself to you, all right?

- Really?

- Really, booba.

All my bros from Hartford

are gonna be there.

It's gonna be the end of an era,

and I don't wanna have to worry

about whether you're

having fun or not.

Right, maybe you'll

meet some hot blonde

that wants you to

rip her panties off

and fuck her up the ass

and write an unreadable

story about her.

What, where's this coming from?

Where is the sweet naive

girl I met last Christmas,

'cause you know what, I'd

like her back, please booba.

Stop calling me, booba, okay?

I'm not a child.

I call you booba

because I love you.

It's what my grandmother

calls my mom.

- You love me?

- Of course.

I mean, would I be

here if I didn't?

I told you I've never

lived with a girl before,

you changed me.

You love me, but you don't want

me to go to Mark's wedding?

Correct.

Look, I am older than you.

I try not to remind you of

this, but it is true, all right?

And one day when you are my age,

you will realize that two

people can love each other

and not agree on everything,

and not have to do

everything together.

Do you think I

should pack a tie?

Booba? You're good with

this kind of thing.

Like I don't even have

a suit, so you think,

you think just the

shirt and a tie?

You're depressed.

I swear, I mean I

recognize the symptoms.

I get like that

when I'm emotional.

Well, I can get quite emotional.

I'm not depressed.

I'm a very happy person.

What?

Nothing.

Getting a kiss goodbye?

All right, goodbye Joanna.

I think about Holden a lot.

When I first think about him,

I get a stupid grin on my face.

You know, thinking about what

a funny guy he is and all.

Then I usually get

depressed as hell

because I only

think about Holden

when I'm feeling very emotional.

I can get quiet emotional.

That's what I had

become, quiet emotional.

Dear boy from Winston-Salem.

My most profound apologies

for taking so long to reply.

I've been thinking about

your letters for months.

I suppose that

I too can get quite emotional

about things sometimes.

But you're right.

Can't go around revealing your

goddamn emotions to the world

but if you can't reveal

your emotions to the world,

then what are you

supposed to do with them?

How do you go on?

'Cause I feel like

crying all the time.

Joanna, what is it?

Has something happened

at the agency?

No, no, no, everything's fine.

I brought you these, and

some soup from Mangia.

I know you like their

mushroom barley.

That's very thoughtful.

You do pay attention, don't you?

You did a fine job

on those contracts.

Those electronic clauses,

they'll be the

death of publishing.

On the other hand,

engaging with Jerry's

fans was irresponsible,

immature and dangerous.

You know about that?

I have fired

assistants for less.

Why didn't you fire me?

Because it's highly unlikely

you will make the

same mistake twice.

Also Jerry likes you.

I am reluctant to

alter his routine.

I don't wanna be a routine.

I have a couple of stories

from long-term clients.

Read them, and figure

out which magazines

they'd be right for,

and send them out.

What if I don't like them?

Then it's your job to

figure out who will.

Right.

Thank you.

Better get back to the office.

Why do you think

Judy Blume left?

I'm sorry that I said that.

No, please.

I would like to

know what you think.

When you met with Judy, did

you discuss her writing?

The quality of her writing

was never an issue.

Maybe she wasn't looking

for the perfect sales pitch.

Maybe she just wanted

to hear what you thought

about the story,

what it meant to you,

or if you love books the

same way that she loves them.

I'm not sure my love of books

was relevant to that discussion.

Maybe it was relevant to her.

I know it would be to me.

Oh.

You know, I sold my first

book when I was in my 20s.

It was about this

young woman journalist

in the Spanish Civil War,

and it was actually

written by a man.

And yet he seemed to

understand intimately

what it would be like

for her as a woman.

Anyway, I sold the book,

and then my boss said that I

should represent the author.

And naturally I said, yes.

And then like right away,

I started to get

nervous, almost panicky.

And what if, what if the author

disappointed me as a person?

And what if I liked the

writing, but not him?

You know, it was about

three weeks later

we met for lunch at Elaine's,

and at 9:00 PM, we

were still there,

just laughing and

talking and sharing

our aspirations and

our love of music

and our love of books.

Daniel?

Yeah.

Daniel.

My condolences, Margaret.

I'll pull my socks up.

Oh.

For months, I had been

touched by anonymous fans.

Touched by their desire

to connect with Salinger.

Their letters had changed me.

The time had come to see for

myself what had moved them.

Salinger's nothing like

I thought, nothing.

He's brutal, brutal and

funny. And I love it.

I love Franny the most.

There's that moment when

the guy in Princeton

is waiting for Franny

at the train station,

and he has the letter in

his pocket, Franny's letter.

And he's read it a thousand

times, he knows it by heart.

But when she gets off

the train and asks,

"Did you get my letter?"

- He says,

- "Which letter?"

Hey, booba.

Thought you'd be at work.

I took the morning off.

I missed you, booba.

Are you going somewhere?

I'm leaving you, Don.

I get it. This is

about the wedding.

Something hit me

while you were gone.

Why are you making

a thing out of this?

Listen to me, something

hit me while you were gone.

But they were never

really engaged.

I didn't miss you.

What?

I didn't think about

you, not for one second.

Okay, so you needed some

time on your own. I get that.

You can keep the

apartment, all right?

You need it more than I do.

You're gonna give me

the, sorry, it's not you,

it's me bullshit?

I should have broke

up with you before.

I'm not in love

with you. I'm sorry.

I knew you could do it.

I knew it!

Come with me. Hugh!

Stop doing what you're doing.

Max, we're coming

into your sanctum.

I have an announcement to make.

What is it?

Joanna has sold a story

I gave her this summer.

Congratulations.

Not surprised. Good job.

You're on your way.

Of course she is.

I knew the moment you walked

through the door that

you were agency material.

Now you can start to build

your very own client list.

A most exciting

feeling for an agent.

Isn't that right, Max?

For once I have to agree

with Margaret, yes.

We will celebrate at lunch.

Hope you like martinis.

Oh, she'll learn to like them.

You know, we have some authors

who would prefer to

be with you, I think

than an old fogy like me.

Some people I think you'll like.

What is it?

I'm so grateful.

I'm so, so grateful.

You're leaving.

I was planning on talking

to you sometime this week.

But you're doing so well.

I mean you have it in you to

become a really fine agent.

You have good

instincts, a good heart.

Thank you.

Thank you, Margaret.

My mind is made up.

Of course I'll stay until

you can find a replacement.

You have other aspirations.

I do.

We just never really

talked about anything

other than the

agency's business.

It's very true.

But I like working with

you. I like working here.

I really, really do.

There's just other

things I want to do.

And I'm afraid that if I don't

do them now, I never will.

I understand.

Hi, Kevin told me to drop

this by at my convenience.

Would you like to give

it to him yourself?

I think he's in.

That would be lovely. Thanks.

Hey there. Oh, guess

who's visiting.

Hello?

Listen, I'm thinking, if I

was the guy who put myself

on a paper and it came out

as "Catcher In The Rye"

I'd get a bang out of the

bastard writing me a letter

pretending to be able to

do the same, follow me?

Oh, Jerry. May I

introduce you to-

Joanna, it's so good

to finally meet you.

My Salinger Year (2020) - full transcript