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[Previous entry: "The Alienist"] [Next entry: "The Light Fantastic"]
06/15/2006 4:36 PM
I had always been told that the movie failed the book miserably, which is why I probably put off reading Truman Capote’s famous novella. I didn’t want to know how badly my beloved Audrey had been miscast, how little “Moon River” actually has to do with anything remotely related to the story, much less ponder the fact that dear Jed Clampitt actually had sex.
But all of those things and more are true. Because “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” is beautiful, a perfectly paced longer short story that paints the portrait of more than just a lost waif of a girl. Through a character driven plot, Capote writes with a tone of restless discontent and bittersweet nostalgia. Fred, whose real name you never learn in the book, begins the story with the end. You don’t know where Holly has gone, only that she has. And Fred’s is not the only name that goes unknown. This is a New York where no one uses names, and if they do, they’re never real. Only peripheral players are given real names, and more often than not, they are caricatures rather than characters. Capote’s theme is clear. Continuous loss only leads to a continuous searching that never renders a finding. Just a growing dependence on the act of searching, until that alone is the only real thing.
About Her
Breakfast at Tiffany's by Truman Capote
I had always been told that the movie failed the book miserably, which is why I probably put off reading Truman Capote’s famous novella. I didn’t want to know how badly my beloved Audrey had been miscast, how little “Moon River” actually has to do with anything remotely related to the story, much less ponder the fact that dear Jed Clampitt actually had sex.
But all of those things and more are true. Because “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” is beautiful, a perfectly paced longer short story that paints the portrait of more than just a lost waif of a girl. Through a character driven plot, Capote writes with a tone of restless discontent and bittersweet nostalgia. Fred, whose real name you never learn in the book, begins the story with the end. You don’t know where Holly has gone, only that she has. And Fred’s is not the only name that goes unknown. This is a New York where no one uses names, and if they do, they’re never real. Only peripheral players are given real names, and more often than not, they are caricatures rather than characters. Capote’s theme is clear. Continuous loss only leads to a continuous searching that never renders a finding. Just a growing dependence on the act of searching, until that alone is the only real thing.
About Her
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