I am working in New York this week, which inevitably sounds more glamorous than it is. Due to the long work hours, I have spent my free time snoozing more often than reading. But I’ve had a classic NYC read with me, borrowed from Best Friend Kate. Each time I snooze, I have Truman Capote’s Breakfast at Tiffany’s lying ignored on my night table / bed table / belly. It’s a book of short stories, and I have made it through only the first so far, which is the book’s namesake.
At 111 pages, it is kind of long for a short story and, um, kind of long in general. I want to love this book because it makes me think of classy things like Audrey Hepburn and big diamonds and 1960s modern fashion. I really loved In Cold Blood so I thought this was a surefire winner. And also, I’m pretty sure this is a critically acclaimed book that is all famous and whatnot among the New York Magazine crowd. But let’s be honest – I’m not in that crowd. I am in the crowd that gave a rave review to a book called Kick Me and featured storylines about cross dressing and locker room showers.
So, here’s my honest opinion. Breakfast at Tiffany’s has a good story, but I just don’t love it. It drags on, and I think the editor could have gotten more aggressive. I’m also embarrassed to admit I keep thinking of the song of the same name from 1995, which is really getting on my nerves.
Fortunately, I don’t think any readers of New York Magazine read this blog, or were considering me for book reviews. Especially now that I’ve admitted to sleeping on the job.
Ah, that is a disappointment! I love the movie, but I knew the book was different. Still...I wouldn't have expect it not to be good.
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