Deconstructive Criticism

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Niles (David Hyde Pierce): Oh my God. It is T.H. Houghton. We're a stone's throw away from one of the giants of American literature.

Roz (Peri Gilpin): Not the way you throw.

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I guess the character of reclusive writer T.H. Houghton (played by Robert Prosky) in the episode of Frasier that aired on this night in 1996 was kind of a cross between J.D. Salinger and Harper Lee. Like Lee (at the time), Houghton had published only one book — albeit an influential one that was a pillar of English lit classes everywhere — but Lee wasn't the recluse that Salinger was. Houghton combined the quirkiest of both.

Anyway, Frasier (Kelsey Grammer) and Niles (David Hyde Pierce) had stopped at the cafe for some coffee before taking their father (John Mahoney) to buy new clothes. While sipping coffee outdoors, they spotted T.H. Houghton nearby.

And they began trying to meet him.

Their father, however, was the one who succeeded in getting to know the reclusive writer — without really trying. Frasier and Niles left him at a sports bar to watch the Mariners ("He's just dead weight," Niles told Frasier before they ran off on their quest), and it turned out Houghton was there, too. The boys didn't see him — he was probably in the bathroom because he walked into the room a minute or two after they left, sat down next to Martin and began watching the game with him.

They hit it off, talking about old TV shows and swapping war stories after the baseball game ended.

Meanwhile, after their fruitless search came to an end, Frasier and Niles returned to the sports bar — only to find their father sitting at a table with T.H. Houghton. But the writer didn't stay long; in fact, he left the bar as they were coming in, and the boys were left to wonder anew how they could finagle a meeting with him.

Later, after Niles and Frasier had been to an art exhibit, they returned to Frasier's apartment and crossed paths with their father and Houghton on their way out for dinner. Houghton had been there all afternoon. Another near miss.

Perhaps they could all spend some time together after the two returned from dinner, Niles suggested hopefully.

"I doubt it," Frasier replied. "They'll probably run into J.D. Salinger and Salman Rushdie and go out for margaritas."

The next day, Houghton was set to pick up Martin so they could go to a Mariners doubleheader. As Martin explained to the boys, Houghton was only in town for a few days to drop off his new book with his publisher.

Niles and Frasier nearly had strokes. A new Houghton book! In hindsight, their reaction reminds me a great deal of the reaction to Harper Lee's new book a year ago.

They didn't get to spend time with Houghton, but he went off without his satchel, which contained his manuscript, and Niles and Frasier took it out and read it while Houghton and their father were at the doubleheader.

But they didn't manage to return the manuscript to the satchel before being caught red–handed.

At first, Houghton was indignant about the invasion of his privacy. But soon curiosity got the best of him and he asked Niles and Frasier for their opinions. "Somebody had to read it first," he observed.

What happened next surprised everyone.

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Niles and Frasier mentioned the similarities between Houghton's book and Dante's "Divine Comedy."

Houghton concluded that he had lifted the entire structure from Dante, and he interpreted that to mean that he nothing original left to say. "I was a fool to think I had a second book in me," he said before throwing the manuscript off Frasier's balcony.

Then he thanked Niles and Frasier and told them that if the book had been published, his reputation would have been destroyed. This way, he was left with a shred of dignity, and he marched with head held high — and a sheet from the manuscript stuck to the bottom of one of his shoes — out of the apartment.

I always liked this episode because, as a writer, I know that writing is not the kind of occupation for someone who is thin–skinned. Writers will always encounter criticism, no matter how good they are. They have to accept it as a fact of the life they have chosen. In a way, I guess, it is like being a politician. Even our greatest presidents had their critics.

In this episode, the shoe was kind of on the other foot. Frasier was a thin–skinned sort, too. In an episode in the previous season, he got all bent out of shape because one member of a 12–person focus group didn't like him. This time someone else was dealing with negative thoughts.

Well, that's life. No matter how funny or smart or good–looking you are, there will always be those who don't like you or what you do — or something. Always.

A Crane's Critique

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One of the most entertaining angles of the Frasier series was always the sibling rivalry between Frasier and his brother Niles.

It was constantly a source of fresh humor since it often focused on the elitist tastes the brothers shared. In the 11 years the show was on the air, the writers explored the Crane brothers' mutual passions for wine, caviar, opera, fine dining, literature, exclusive clubs and spas and their innate desire to be descended from royalty, among other things, and their wish to rub elbows with the most eccentric and the most prominent.

I always enjoyed those episodes. Frasier and Niles were both so quirky — and so transparent — that it was hard not to be amused by their petty bickering and squabbling.

One of the best of those episodes made its debut 15 years ago tonight.

Sitting at a table outside the coffee bar they frequented, Niles and Frasier spotted a reclusive writer named T.H. Houghton from a distance. Houghton (played by the late Robert Prosky) was inspired by J.D. Salinger, whose "The Catcher in the Rye" was published 60 years ago this year.

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Thus began a merry chase in which Frasier and Niles kept trying to meet the writer — and kept missing by inches and seconds — while their father struck up a close friendship with him, going to ball games with him and talking about classic TV shows like Bonanza.

The final indignity for Frasier was the fact that Houghton had forged a bond with Eddie the dog — "fed him his afternoon biscuit," according to Daphne.

It was all too much for Frasier, who wondered, "Will the madness never end?"

Niles suggested that their father might bring Houghton back to the apartment after dinner.

In one of my favorite lines in the entire series, Frasier replied, "I doubt it. They'll probably run into J.D. Salinger and Salman Rushdie — go out for margaritas."

That was a doubly funny line because, as I say, the Houghton character was inspired by Salinger.

But Houghton went Salinger one better. He had a manuscript for a second novel that he was in Seattle to show a publisher — and he accidentally left it in Frasier's apartment when he and Martin went to a Mariners doubleheader.

Frasier and Niles seized on the opportunity to read the manuscript, prompting a scolding from Daphne.

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But they got rid of her by giving her the day off and proceeded to read the manuscript in privacy ...

Until Houghton showed up with Martin.

Frasier and Niles tried to cover for their transgression, assuring Houghton that the book was wonderful — "It was great," Niles said. "Wow!" said Frasier.

Martin was furious. "If you were Hoss and Little Joe," he fumed after Houghton excused himself to use the restroom, "Ben Cartwright would kick your sorry butts right off the Ponderosa."

Niles and Frasier tried to apologize, then, after Martin had left the room, Frasier observed, "He's back on the Cartwrights again. You know, someday we really should ask him just who the hell they are."

What concerned the always image–conscious Frasier more was the impression their "pithy comments" left with their idol.

"Houghton's going to leave here today thinking we're a couple of inarticulate simpletons," he told Niles, and they agreed to share more learned comments with him when he emerged from the bathroom.

Unfortunately, they inadvertently persuaded Houghton that the entire book had been stolen from Dante. "I was a fool to think I had another book in me," he cried, calling himself a "talentless hack," and he disposed of the manuscript by tossing part of it in the fireplace and the rest off Frasier's balcony. Then he walked resolutely from the apartment, saying that at least he could leave with his dignity ... not noticing that a page from his manuscript was stuck to the bottom of one of his shoes.

Frasier and Niles were chastened and despondent. "We've destroyed a man's life," Frasier said. "Not to mention depriving future generations of a work of art," Niles added.

The two rationalized, however, that they had spared Houghton a thorough trashing from the critics (who would certainly have noticed the parallel between his work and Dante's) that his fragile ego couldn't withstand — and thus became heroes in their own eyes.

"You know, Niles," Frasier said in his self–congratulatory way, "we saved that man's life."

As well as his image — with himself.

J.D. Salinger Dies

Given his reclusive nature, perhaps it was appropriate that writer J.D. Salinger died yesterday — and word of his death didn't get out until today.

He was an enigma to many and for good reason.

As a teenager, I read his iconic novel, "The Catcher in the Rye," which was published nearly 60 years ago. It still had a lot to say to people who were in the grip of the alienation and rebellion that are hallmarks of that age, and it helped me to realize that what I was experiencing at that stage of my life was precisely what other generations had faced and what future generations would face.

Salinger reassured me that I certainly wasn't the first — nor would I be the last — to have those feelings.

In December 1980, when ex–Beatle John Lennon was murdered by a twisted fan who had a copy of the book in his possession — and, apparently, had modeled himself after the narrator/protagonist of the book, Holden Caulfield — I retrieved my dog–eared copy of the book from my bookshelf and read it again, hoping to find some clue that might explain what had happened.

I never found what I was looking for — although I did gain a fresh appreciation and my respect was renewed for Salinger's work.

Salinger was 91. His birthday was nearly four weeks ago, on January 1. He broke his hip last May, but, according to his literary agent, he had been doing fine "until a rather sudden decline after the new year."

I guess those things are bound to happen when one has reached an advanced age.

We may never know the reason for the "rather sudden decline" in his health. But, today, I — and, no doubt, many who read and appreciated his works over the years — can't help wondering if there are manuscripts of his that will be published posthumously. Time will tell.

For now, rest in peace, Mr. Salinger.