Breakfast at Tiffany's

 

"I'd rather have cancer than a dishonest heart" (66).

As a fan of Audrey Hepburn and her many on-screen iterations, the iconic adaptation of Truman Capote's novella, Breakfast at Tiffany's, is a not-so-unique favorite. The feel of the movie denotes a whimsical realism, leaving the viewer with a sense that something ethereal has touched down in a very normal corner of New York City. By chance, I landed upon a copy of the original during my last visit to one of the bookstores that I sacrificially assist in staying open.

Imagine my delight in reading a story that was so well captured in its movie version that I found myself reminded of each scene's delivery with renewed appreciation for the nuance found there. It would be hard to choose a favorite--movie or book--because they seem to be cut from the same cloth. I can also confidently give this story one of the highest honors that I have to impart: it was actually the perfect length! My opinion on many a book and movie, even those that I genuinely enjoy, is that at least some small portion of extra fluff could have been cut to elevate my enjoyment. I felt that this one had exactly what it needed to be both effective and delightful.

1. "They would never change because they'd been given their character too soon; which, like sudden riches, leads to a lack of proportion...a lopsided romantic" (46).

Iconic characters. From the narrator, who is never named, to the side characters like Sally Tomato and Doc Golightly, this story is populated by a stunning number of men and women who circle around Holly's eccentricities. The protagonist is a woman of humble means, coming from a backwater orphan adolescence and "Pygmalion-ed" by a Hollywood executive who imagines her a future star. She gives herself a new name, à la Marylin Monroe, and finds her place amidst the vast bustle of war-time New York City.

Capote's genius is in his ability to craft people who seem to really exist, as though they could be a friend of a friend. Simultaneously, they are rooted in very particular personality traits, motivations, or fears that eclipse all other aspects. Condensing characters in this way provides a look into the very specific human psychologies that interest us most in ourselves and others.

Holly is, as previously stated, the naive girl from the small, country life, beyond her own years (as well as her humble surroundings) both physically and intellectually. Unfortunately for her, such rapid and early maturation prevents her from developing any emotional regulation or practical long-term thinking. She is thrust into the sparkling world of high society and realizes that she can achieve almost transcendent independence through exploitation of her female form and the scrappy wit that gives her an ironic edge.

2. "It should take you about four seconds to walk from here to the door. I'll give you two" (50).

Iconic relationships. Holly attracts men who want to use her, fix her, love her, marry her, or a combination of all four. Mag Wildwood, one of her only female "friends," seems to embody a fifth desire: to be Holly. Money is, of course, not a small motivator either. Everyone's ulterior motives conclude in the creation of storm after storm. 

The quote at the beginning of this review reveals an innate desire on Holly's part to be honest, but not necessarily in the moral sense. She is not above leaving her family without explanation, changing her name, and living through the financial support of a revolving door of men until she finds an especially wealthy one to marry. The commitment that helps her sleep through the night is to a personal honesty, staying true to her own wants and needs without entering into any social contracts of which she cannot follow through. 

The main love story, if it can even be called that, is between Holly and the narrator whom she calls "Fred," after her soldier brother. Imagine Audrey Hepburn thrusting Cat out of her taxi and into the rain, leaving New York, and abandoning her life there as thoroughly as she left Doc and her teenage marriage. Can't quite see it? I guess the directors didn't think that ending would sell as well. But Capote isn't afraid of an unsatisfying conclusion, especially one that tells us so much more about true human nature.

3. "...it was a subject to ponder, how, from such wreckage, she evolved the eventual effect: pampered, calmly immaculate, as though she'd been attended by Cleopatra's maids" (42-43).

Je ne sais quoi. There is a certain undeniable quality to Breakfast at Tiffany's that combines the aimlessness of the post-World War I generation with the rapidly modernizing culture as it is thrust into yet another world war. Everything that draws us to mid-century narratives, with their traditional male and female characters functioning in new-found freedoms as society leaves behind many of the previous century's restrictions, is found in these pages. The golden age of Hollywood was just a few years in the future. This style of writing functions as an archetype for the striking stories that would soon become the romantic obsession of the world.

It is difficult to place one's finger on exactly the pulse that has made this story such an enduring classic. Perhaps it is just that: Capote, and subsequently those involved in the film adaptation of his work, managed to feel the essential heartbeat of the changing world and its many wonders and anxieties. They poured all of it into a few magnanimous characters and let them speak with their own brand of honesty.