| Genre: Novella, Drama Main characters:Holly Golightly Summary: Meet “Holly Golightly, traveling”, as seen through her neighbor’s eyes. A 19 years old girl that has been quite tried at a young age so now that she has (sort of) grown up she perhaps sees money as more important that they are. She works as a call girl and she would very much like to marry a rich guy. Interestingly enough though she’s still quite innocent inside and it’s this innocence that makes some men (the narrator, the bartender, her former agent) to fall in love with her (in a platonic way) and feeling the need to protect her. |
We are not told very much about the narrator, not even his name. We only know about him that he’s a struggling aspiring writer. As for Holly… I couldn’t fit her in any pattern :) She is a rather interesting person, always on the lookout for a place where she could belong, an as yet unknown place that will make her as happy as Tiffany does.
I was surprised to find it quite different from the movie. Including the ending. However, while I did like the happy-ever-after Hollywood version, I think this one is a better fit for Holly, as she kept traveling in search for her secret place. At least the cat ended up happily: “Flanked by potted plants and framed by clean lace curtains, he was seated in the window of a warm-looking room: I wondered what his name was, for I was certain he had one now, certain he’d arrived somewhere he belonged.”
Some say this book is written in relation to Marylin Monroe’s life (especially as the author and her were friends not to mention Capote wanted her to play Holly in the movie).
A quote, explaining both the title and a very important part of Holly:
She was still hugging the cat. “Poor slob,” she said, tickling his head, “poor slob without a name. It’s a little inconvenient, his not having a name. But I haven’t any right to give him one: he’ll have to wait until he belongs to somebody. We just sort of took up by the river one day, we don’t belong to each other: he’s an independent, and so am I. I don’t want to own anything until I know I’ve found the place where me and things belong together. I’m not quite sure where that is just yet. But I know what it’s like.” She smiled, and let the cat drop to the floor. “It’s like Tiffany’s,” she said.
[...]
It calms me down right away, the quietness and the proud look of it; nothing very bad could happen to you there, not with those kind men in their nice suits, and that lovely smell of silver and alligator wallets. If I could find a real-life place that made me feel like Tiffany’s, then I’d buy some furniture and give the cat a name.
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