A Beautiful Reciprocal Arrangement

Hello, all the regulars and new readers. Welcome to another edition of Think About It.

It’s that time of the week that makes me excited, even though it’s only for a little while. And I always look forward to it.  I hope you feel excited too, as to what’s in store for you this week 😅 

A couple of months ago, we discussed Fernando Pessoa’s quote from The Book of Disquiet regarding the fear of being too boring or too strange.

In that, Pessoa questions: what’s the point of writing anything? “What is there to confess that's worthwhile or useful?” he writes, “What has happened to us has happened to everyone or only to us; if to everyone, then it's no novelty, and if only to us, then it won't be understood.”

Now, it must be noted that here, Pessoa is talking about the process of writing and its purpose. His point is that if there’s nothing unique about what he’s feeling, then what’s the point of writing it, because it’s already felt by many and must have been written already.

And if it is unique, then also, what’s the point, because who will relate to that? Nobody’s felt that before. That’s indeed a paradox for writers. But let’s take a step back and talk about this in a more general sense.

When I went through that Pessoa quote and my newsletter again, I remembered what Mr. Antolini says to Holden in The Catcher in the Rye…

Here, Salinger delivers some profound wisdom through Mr. Antolini. It’s a reassurance that our moral confusion, our spiritual disquiet, and our discontentment with human behavior, none of that is unique to us. We are part of a long, unbroken chain of people who have wrestled with the same questions.

This passage is a reminder of why literature and human expression that has ever been written matter.

In the novel, Holden's whole journey is marked by his inability to connect with others because he sees them all as “phoney”. He feels a deep loneliness because he can't find anyone who shares his genuine dislike for the adult world. This quote directly addresses that feeling, telling him that countless others have felt the exact same way.

We’ve all been in Holden’s shoes. Or some of us are still there right now. So we know how real it is.

There’s a different kind of comfort in knowing that we aren’t alone. So, when you realise that “many, many men” before you have felt the same unease, you stop seeing your confusion as a personal defect.

And the thought that they survived it—and even transformed it into art, history, and writing—becomes a source of hope.

Seeking comfort through “records of troubles”

This is where it gets philosophically rich. Salinger talks about the fundamental human impulse to bear witness to our own confusion and struggle. Holden—and the reader—is reminded that many have “kept records of their troubles.”

Think of Mahmoud Darwish’s longing for home and life in exile, Emily Dickinson writing about her inner darkness, or Franz Kafka’s letters and diaries about the absurdity of existence and society. The examples are endless.

Salinger says it’s not formal education, in the institutional sense. It’s an intimate exchange of human experience that he calls “history” and “poetry.”

This distinction is crucial. It’s because education often implies there are correct answers, solutions, and ways to fix things. But history and poetry? They're about bearing witness to what it's actually like to be human… the confusion, the beauty, the moral complexity, the spiritual searching.

The "beautiful reciprocal arrangement" describes something almost sacred about human consciousness. Every person who honestly records their troubles becomes both student and teacher. You learn from those who came before, and your own honest struggle can become learning material for those who come after.

It’s a reminder that our struggles, once expressed, don’t die with us;  they join the quiet conversation across time.

This entire passage is a powerful moment of catharsis for Holden in the novel. And it becomes a mirror for anyone who’s ever felt out of step with the world. Here’s how:

It provides a lifeline out of isolation: You’re not as alone as you think. Even if people around you seem shallow or unreachable, there’s a silent companionship waiting in the words of those who have felt exactly what you feel.

It highlights the purpose of literature and art: Salinger argues that the value of these works isn't just aesthetic or academic, but deeply therapeutic and communal. They form a timeless chain of empathy that connects us all.

So, never believe that you’re alone in your confusion, spiritual struggles, and moral bewilderment, even when you feel that you’re alone.

Think about how reading and writing are more than just study and education.
Think about your state of mind when you realise that your struggles and troubles, when recorded, can also help someone in ways you may not know.

That’s all for this week, guys.

Will see you again next week.

Until then
Stay curious

Zaid