It takes a kind of tolerance to read a book from another era. To see past the racist, homophobic language of the time and recognise the story for what it was. A modern day classic.
These things are certainly true of Breakfast at Tiffany’s. My overall impression was that this was a book that’d had its time. Which of course is exactly what it is. Even if I chose to overlook any distasteful terms as a symptom of the time, what I couldn’t get over was the bloody-minded caricature that was Holly Golightly. Perhaps she was a breath of fresh air when Truman Capote moulded her, but to us jaded 21st century readers (or to me anyway) these flighty, tempestuous heroine’s are just tedious. It’s a shame I felt this way about Holly because I think a more likeable character could have turned the book around for me.
Capote’s writing skill is evident. Breakfast at Tiffany’s is stuffed with beautifully crafted similes. The story is told through the eyes of Holly’s friend and neighbour as he looks back on the time that they lived in the same apartment block in New York. Him as a struggling writer, her as a… well it’s not particularly clear what she does, some kind of 1940’s society girl. Refreshingly there is no love interest between them. They are just friends though Holly is a somewhat unreliable friend and one whom it turns out has a past that she has been concealing.
True to form the story ends with Holly getting herself into a pickle and whilst she is no longer in our unnamed protagonists life, there still seem to be hints of her several years later.
What I didn’t realise when I picked this book up was that slim as the paperback copy that I held was, it was padded out with three short stories at the end! Breakfast at Tiffany’s was only around 100 pages. I read it in one day. If you are more forgiving than me then this is a speedy read with some good quality writing. At the risk of being branded a philistine, I’m just glad it was over quickly! But I must say I am intrigued enough to now go and watch the film and see what Audrey Hepburn made of Holly.
Next week I’ll be reviewing another modern classic. Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas by Hunter S. Thompson will be up on the blog for you on Monday.