Uncle Wiggily in Connecticut by J.D. Salinger

UNCLE WIGGILY IN A BOAT.

No, Salinger’s Uncle Wiggily in Connecticut has nothing to do with the dapper rabbit from Howard R. Garis’ children's books—though childhood imagination does make a brief, bittersweet appearance. Eloise’s daughter, Ramona, has an invisible best friend named "Jimmy Jimmereeno," a detail that underscores the story’s central theme: the fragile ways people cope with loss. 

The real Uncle Wiggily reference comes from Eloise’s past, a seemingly offhand remark made by her former love, Walt, when she twisted her ankle chasing a bus. He called it "poor Uncle Wiggily"—a playful moment that, in hindsight, has become a haunting memory. Walt died in the war, and Eloise, unable to truly move on, ended up in a marriage devoid of passion, marooned in a life that feels more like a compromise than a choice.

Now a jaded, chain-smoking suburban housewife, Eloise seemingly spends her days drinking, annoyed at the way her life turned out, causing her to lash out at her daughter, a painful reminder of the child she didn't have with Walt. She invites her old college friend Mary Jane over for lunch and they talk about about their youthful dalliances and college misadventures, but the conversation feels hollow, contrived and forced. Beneath the surface, the story crackles with unresolved grief—Eloise isn’t just mourning Walt; she’s mourning the version of herself that once believed in love, adventure, and possibility.

Salinger paints a picture of postwar disillusionment, where the vibrancy of youth fades into a life that feels scripted and stifling. Eloise’s bitterness is palpable, yet there’s something deeply tragic about her. She is clinging to the past, burdened with regrets. The story ends on a quiet but devastating note, as she drunkenly breaks down, showing more tenderness for Ramona’s imaginary friend than for her own child. It’s a reminder that unresolved grief/trauma can manifest in unexpected ways. Eloise’s fixation on a lost love, coupled with her inability to connect meaningfully with those around her, suggests that this sadness has seeped into every facet of life. The emotional detachment from her husband and daughter highlight the dangers of living in the past rather than confronting pain in the present. By the story’s end, Salinger leaves us with a haunting image of a broken woman trapped between memory and reality, illustrating how grief, when suppressed, does not fade—it festers, distorting relationships and deepening one’s isolation.

I really wanted to enjoy this more, but Salinger’s usual wit and sharp characterization felt muted here with a story that meanders in a way that feels more aimless than intentional. The emotional beats didn’t hit as hard as I expected, and the story, while containing that signature Salinger melancholy, lacked the depth and nuance I usually associate with his writing. It still has some redeemable qualities and worth a read if you're a fan of Salinger, but seems to be missing that spark to make it memorable. 

You can read this story HERE.