Rising in Grady was an ungovernable laughter, a joyous agitation which made the white summer stretching before her seem like an unrolling canvas on which she might draw those first rude pure strokes that are free. Then, too, and with a straight face, she was laughing because there was so little they suspected, nothing. The light quivering against the table silver seemed to at once encourage her excitement and to flash a warning signal: careful, dear. But elsewhere something said Grady, be proud, you are tall so fly your pennant high above and in the wind. What could have spoken, the rose? Roses speak, they are the hearts of wisdom, she’d read so somewhere. She looked out the window again; the laughter was flowing up, it was flooding on her lips: what a sparkling sun-slapped day for Grady McNeil and roses that speak!
Summer Crossing, Truman Capote
This book has been collecting five years worth of dust on my shelves. I sneezed through the whole thing. It lasted 20 sneezes.
I was about 16 when I saw the film Breakfast at Tiffany’s. I remember being haunted and charmed. I read the book soon after. At the time, it was only the second book I got through in one sitting.
I read Mr Capote again in a writing workshop at Uni, studying his short stories. I quickly developed a writer-crush and thought he was brilliant.
Aside from my favourite quote from the book at the top of this post, Summer Crossing was not so shiny.
I am consoled by the fact that he didn’t expect it to be published. I feel like reading Breakfast at Tiffany’s again.
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