Breakfast at Tiffany’s isn’t anything like what I expected. For that matter, Truman Capote isn’t, either. I guess I didn’t know what to expect. I haven’t seen the movie, and, even though I know exactly nothing about Capote, I’ve always kind of arbitrarily lumped him in with Albert Camus. Maybe because they both have such serious names? But it’s funny because they aren’t alike at all.
The novella (it’s really short) is about a girl named Holly Golightly. She lives in New York, has parties, and goes to parties. From the outside, her life seems simple and happy. Except our narrator, Fred, gets to know her about as well as anyone can, and things aren’t that simple. Turns out she ran away from home at 14, and her brother, who she adores, is fighting in the war – among other things: I’m not going to spoil it for you, though you’ve probably seen the movie anyway.
I really enjoyed Breakfast at Tiffany’s. It’s one of those books (I’ve run into a lot of them lately!) that are simply fun to read. It went by really quickly, and I was intrigued the whole time. I might even have to see the movie now. (I especially liked that Holly had a big orange cat. I have one of those, too, you know.)
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