I watched the film adaptation of Breakfast at Tiffany’s with Audrey Hepburn before I understood what a lot of it meant. That may be why my general impression is that the film has largely overtaken the original book by Truman Capote in popularity. If that’s true, I’m sure that’s because the story was romanticized Hollywood-style in so many ways: they added a romance between “Fred” and Holly, and they transformed Holly into a more sympathetic character and cast the refined, glamorous, elegant Audrey Hepburn to play her.
Capote’s Holly Golightly is no Audrey Hepburn. Novel Holly is darker, dirtier, playfully sexier, more foul-mouthed, less innocent, less classy. She kept reminding me of Liza Minnelli’s Sally Bowles from “Cabaret” instead, except a bit more worldly, scrap the bold blue eye shadow, mix her with Greta Garbo or Marilyn Monroe.
And I have a confession to make. I always wanted to love the film version, perhaps simply because Audrey Hepburn was the lead, but also maybe because it was scandalous and emotional in what seemed like a mature yet glamorous way when I was young. The set of Holly’s furniture-less apartment is intriguing, she’s an uncommon character, and the actors are beautiful. But I would always watch the movie with a slight sense of confusion. Audrey’s portrayal of Holly never fully made sense to me. Fred’s attraction to Holly (minus the fact that she’s played by Audrey and how can anyone not be head over heels for Audrey) never fully made sense to me. After reading Capote’s novella, now I know why. They altered Holly to fit Hollywood glitter glamour, when Holly belongs in and embodies the dark underbelly of high society. She’s not meant to be loved and cherished by someone who is more suited for the picket fence future. She meant it when she said in the movie, “people don’t belong to people.” Paul meant it when he argued they did. She wants to make every day a Holiday like her chosen name, and Movie Paul is a more quiet, more conventional nature. They would never last, and I always knew it.
Reading the novella made me appreciate the story so much more. Capote’s Holly might be among my favorite complex character studies in literature. Capote is amazing at character study in general. His characters materialize before you and make you care for them even if their personalities are incongruent with your own. Capote’s prose on the line level might not be what grabs me, but reading him is so easy, and a line that may not seem special on its own is imbued with such flagrant meaning when read in context. A lot of the iconic dialogue from the film was picked up straight from the novel.
Capote is really good at writing fleshed-out characters in not a lot of words. Throughout all of the stories in the book (including the novella and three short stories mentioned below), Capote displays his ability to simply craft a good story around compelling characters.
The Three Other Stories at the end of the novella include: “House of Flowers” about a prostitute who finds love with a poor man, “A Diamond Guitar” about two prisoners who connect and talk about escaping, and “A Christmas Memory” about a 7-year-old and his off-the-rocker 60-year-old best friend. I had thought when starting the last one that that one would be my least favorite because everything seasonal immediately makes me think of Hallmark Christmas movies, but I think it’s either tied to or close behind “A Diamond Guitar.”
