A review by mulders
Breakfast at Tiffany's by Truman Capote

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.
Expand filter menu Content Warnings