You've Got Mail (from Capote)

I recently read Too Brief a Treat, the letters of Truman Capote.  While I didn't enjoy this collection merely as much as Willa Cather's short stories, they were still entertaining and of course provided some insight into one of my favorite authors.  Capote addressed his friends with pet names, often contained gossip, and usually involved his asking his friends to keep writing him wherever he was (Italy, Switzerland, New York, Kansas, etc.).  Some of my favorite quotes are as follows. The last quote was in reference to William Goyen, a Texan writer most famous for The House of Breath (which I recently reviewed on this blog).  Capote was an early supporter of Goyen, but when Goyen wrote some less than flattering words about one of Capote's works, he was no longer a fiercely appreciated friend, but a foe to which Capote said good riddance.  He fiercely adored his friends and abhorred his enemies, never one to be moderate in his opinions!

"Currently am waging war against two little girls down the road.  They are driving me out of my mind.  Why do children always think that I am a child too?  I'd like to crack their little heads together."

"Not, I must say, that you've been dazzling correspondents, any of you:  many's the night I've trudged down to the post-office, then trudged back empty-handed - thinking, a fine lot they are, whirling from one gay event to another, never giving a thought to poor Truman:  far off there on a windswept hill with nothing but the sound of the sea to cheer him up.  Oh chilluns, it do get mighty powerful lonesome here."

"What a psychopath."

Capote Captures it All

Truman Capote is one of my favorite writers of all time, and his book The Dogs Bark:  Public People and Private Places, demonstrates his wit, sense of humor, and incredibly astute eye for detail.  He writes about many different people (Marilyn Monroe, Marlon Brando, Isak Dinesen, etc.) and places (New Orleans, Brooklyn, Russia, Japan, etc.).  Some of my favorite quotes:

From New Orleans:  Miss Y. does not believe in the world beyond N.O. ; at times her insularity results, as it did today, in rather chilling remarks.  I had mentioned a recent trip to New York, whereupon she, arching an eyebrow, replied gently, "Oh?  And how are things in country?"

From New York:  Could it be that the transition from innocence to wisdom happens in that moment when we discover not all the world loves us?

From Brooklyn:  I wanted to blow her up.  She's a stinking pig; she and Cook have it fixed up between them never to give me any chocolate sauce so she can gobble it all her big fat self.

From A Ride Through Spain:  In our compartment, the dark , dusty mother sat just as we had left her.  She had not seen fit to join the party.  She gave me a long, glittering look.  "Bandidos," she said, with a surly, unnecessary vigor.  

From Self Portrait:  Not long ago my doctor suggested that I adopt a hobby other than wine-tasting and fornication.  He asked if I could think of anything.  "Yes, murder."  He laughed, we both did, except I wasn't laughing.  Poor man, little did he know what a painful and perfect demise I'd planned for him when, after eight days abed with something closely resembling black cholera, he still refused to pay me a house call. 

And I truly loved Capote's account of a raven with clipped wings who he comes to care for,  named Lola. 

The Grass is Always Greener, with Capote

The Grass Harp is classic Capote - wit, quirky characters, tender moments amidst hilarious ones, and immensely fabulous storytelling.  I really don't think it gets much better than this!  Read it.  Period.

A Romp with Capote

While I greatly prefer In Cold Blood and Music for Chameleons to this unfinished novel, I will still read anything by Truman Capote because it is all a demonstration of sheer brilliance.  Answered Prayers is less plot driven than it is an over the top romp through the high society that Capote moved through once he was famous (the work seems largely autobiographical).  It wasn't particularly cohesive as a narrative nor are any of the characters particularly memorable, but I enjoyed it nonetheless.  Here is an example of how Capote packs a punch in just a few sentences:

To all these people, the living among them, I must by now be the merest memory.  If that.  Of course, Boaty would have remembered me, but not with pleasure (I can well imagine what he might say: "P.B. Jones?  That tramp.  No doubt he's peddling his ass to elderly Arab buggers in the souks of Marrakech"); but Boaty is gone, beaten to death in his mahogany house by a heroin-crazed Puerto Rican hustler who left him with both eyeballs dangling down his cheeks.

Re-reading In Cold Blood

Truman Capote is one of my top ten favorite writers of all time.  I remember reading In Cold Blood for the first time several years ago.  It was haunting, beautifully written, impossible to put down.  A "non-fiction novel," In Cold Blood tells the true story of the 1959 murders of the Clutter family in Holcomb, Texas.  Capote spent six years researching the book, which included extensive interviews with the townspeople and the murderers.  The result was a great masterpiece, riveting in its intimate view of a close-knit small town community as well as of the histories of Perry Smith and Richard Hickock.  While a very depressing story, I think this is a must-read in the canon of American literature. 

Review: Music for Chameleons

I've been on a hiatus from reading, for lack of stumbling upon any real gems as of late.   I know they are out there, I just haven't had good luck recently!  So I did what needed to be done - delved into another wonderful book by the esteemed Mr. Capote.  Music for Chameleons is my favorite Capote book that I have read to date, because it shows off Capote's versatility as a master of the short story, a writer of witty dialogue, and a person intrigued with the darker side of the human soul.  The book is divided into three sections, the first being a few short stories, pitch-perfect of course.  Second, Capote included a factual account of a real crime (entitled "Handcarved Coffins") which is, on a smaller scale, similar to the type of writing he became famous for in In Cold Blood, and ends with what Capote called "Conversational Portraits" in which he captures with equal effortlessness the spirit of New Orleans, a day in the life of a house-cleaner in New York City, and an encounter with Marilyn Monroe, all focused on the dialogue between two or three main characters.  This book shows Capote off as a true craftsman of readable, edgy, varied, and brilliant literary creations.  Truly a gem!