Reviews with content warning for Antisemitism - Breakfast at Tiffany's

Reviews tagging 'Antisemitism'

Breakfast at Tiffany's by Truman Capote

2 reviews

henrygravesprince's review against another edition

lighthearted mysterious reflective fast-paced

Plot- or character-driven? Character
Strong character development? It's complicated
Loveable characters? It's complicated
Diverse cast of characters? No
Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

4.0

Truman was an incredible writer, and I think overall the prose here is as masterful as his tends to be, but it’s worth noting that this book has a lot of depictions of people having deeply entrenched biases and using very derogatory language. Personally, I find the “historical accuracy”/“it’s of its times” argument complicated at best when it is employed: to be clear, I’m willing to approach a work where it’s at, but if I think the bigoted sentiments being depicted are being endorsed within the narrative or by the author, the time and place in which it was written doesn’t make a difference in my judgment of something. Ultimately, I don’t think Capote was agreeing with the characters in this work (or in much any of his work, really), so much as showing us a lense into the world he saw around him. That being said, I still wouldn’t be able to in good conscience recommend this to people as an “entertainment” read, especially without huge caveats for period-typical language and depictions of various kinds of bigotry.

Something I find interesting about Holly Golightly in the book, as opposed to the film, is that she is far more overtly flawed and ergo more human—I know a lot of people say she’s the manic pixie dream girl prototype, but to me, the film embodies that much more than the book. The book contains fragments of that, for sure, but it feels more like a story about people perceiving someone in that way than a story pushing the concept; Holly’s presence is ephemeral, fleeting, but also incredibly sharp and sometimes callous, and in her, I can’t help but see Nina Capote (or Lillie Mae Faulk), Truman’s mother. I think that in itself is a big part of why she’s seen in such a glittering way despite being a relatively bad friend and person, not to mention the animosity broiling beneath the narrator’s surface towards her just as much as his affection for her. Glamorous, hell-bent on becoming part of a particular upper echelon of society, and ultimately, as cruel beneath the surface as they are enthralling: these words describe Holly, Truman, and Nina each in their own right.

At its core, this is a story of home, of belonging, of identity, and of the search for that: but central to that, too, is both hopefulness and uncertainty. The characters are play, obviously save for the cat, are generally not very likeable. The facts about Holly Golightly are on unstable ground, and how accurate the narrator’s interpretation of her is, as well; as for the narrator, his identity in the story is built up entirely around his connection to Holly, and despite us knowing his life extends beyond her, he does not share it with us. Their characters are reflected in the cat, who ultimately may have found a name of his own, but as he doesn’t belong to Holly or to the narrator in the end, we never learn it; he is ultimately both a symbol of freedom and of belonging, and in the end, it seems he may be the only one who has settled into a home. Breakfast at Tiffany’s is a dreamlike snapshot of New York café society from its fringes, transient and grimy, longing for home and leaving us wondering if the narrator or the central heroine ever found it.

Content Warnings

mulders's review against another edition

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funny inspiring reflective fast-paced

Plot- or character-driven? Character
Strong character development? No
Loveable characters? Yes
Diverse cast of characters? Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

5.0

I loved her enough to forget myself, my self-pitying despairs, and be content that something she thought happy was going to happen.

How I adore Truman Capote. My love affair with Breakfast at Tiffany's began on a transatlantic flight, Frankfurt to California, when I was about 14. I watched the film, transfixed by the colours and music and romance of it, despite never having been much of a rom-com fan. I was enamoured with Audrey in her role, I loved the cat, and I loved the simple beauty of lines such as "I’ll tell you one thing, Fred, darling… I’d marry you for your money in a minute. Would you marry me for my money?" / "In a minute." / "I guess it’s pretty lucky neither of us is rich, huh?" Which is why it may be surprising that I am grateful such an exchange was never uttered in the book, and why you can trust me when I say it is so infinitely better than the film adaptation.

The love story in the novel is a different, in my eyes deeper, truer kind of love; the unconditional kind that comes from a true friend, the kind whose only expectation is that same kind of care and tenderness in return. As wonderful as Audrey is, the Holly of the book is something else entirely. She is almost more alive on the page than she is on the screen. She's vibrant and funny and tragic and brave. Where Audrey's Holly is poised, book-Holly has an unruly childishness to her, a quality that at once shows fragility and strength. She is, in many ways, just a kid, and your heart goes out to and breaks for her. In that way we as the readers are much like the narrator; unlike in the film, where Paul sets out to tame a wild party girl with romantic love and belonging to one another, the book's narrator simply sees Holly for what she is, and loves her fiercely for it, and does not want anything with keeping or taming or belonging; simply to love, protect, and be loved back. That same kind of protectiveness comes over the reader when faced with Holly's character, with the depth of her beauty and her grief. She is not the stunning socialite from the screen, she's just a girl trying her hardest to survive. As is said within the book itself, “You've got to be sensitive to appreciate her: a streak of the poet”. The ending of the novel differs from the film as well; there is no picture-perfect, happily ever after. Instead it is real and bittersweet and hopeful and pinches your heart in a way that I think stays with you much, much longer.

But you can't give your heart to a wild thing: the more you do, the stronger they get. Until they're strong enough to run into the woods. Or fly into a tree. Then a taller tree. Then the sky. That's how you'll end up, Mr. Bell. If you let yourself love a wild thing. You'll end up looking at the sky.

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