On a recent vacation, I set myself the goal of reading Breakfast at Tiffany’s by Truman Capote. It’s one of those classic stories that I should have read at some point in my life, but never did. I saw the movie many years ago, but remember being more impressed with Hepburn than with the actual movie and had a hard time remembering much of it.
Breakfast at Tiffany’s is a poignant novella told by an anonymous writer looking back on a relationship/friendship of his youth. He was poor, honest, and earnest, living in his first New York City brownstone, and met a young woman whose memory would stay with him the rest of his life—Holly Golightly. She was a true independent, yet she survived in a rather parasitic fashion. She sought security and love, unfortunately confusing the two. As far as her relationship with the narrator was concerned, she was capable of a very generous, as long as it was temporary, friendship. The book is a rich character study, not only of Holly and the narrator, but of all the secondary characters that flit in and out of Holly’s sphere. The reader won’t envy Holly, she is a melancholy creature for all her gaiety, but you can’t help but admire her spark. You’ll end up hoping, along with the narrator, that she eventually did find what she sought.
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