This was the first book I’d ever read by Truman Capote, but I think it won’t be the last. Or at least I hope it won’t be. He has a very nice writing style, and I breezed through this book (to be fair, though, it was pretty short).

Anyhow, I won’t get much into the plot since that’s not really what I do here. I wanted to mention the movie version of the book.

Now, I know that “the movie’s never as good as the book,” and in this case that was certainly true. In fact, in the first two or three minutes of the movie I came very close to just giving up and shutting it off. I think that a fair amount of my distaste for the movie was the acting, as I’m not generally a fan of “old movie acting.” And this movie, generally speaking, was no exception. Especially Mickey Rooney playing a Japanese man in a pretty racist caricature that would not likely be tolerated by anyone today (although to be fair, Mickey Rooney himself seems to have his share of regrets for playing the role).

Actually, what’s up with Rooneys? I always get Mickey Rooney, Andy Rooney, Wayne Rooney, and the band Rooney confused. I think just by making this complaint, I’m sounding more like Andy Rooney than any of the others.

Back on track. I guess the movie is actually just a testament to how stunningly beautiful Audrey Hepburn was. The main guy is OK, too, I guess, but it’s hard not to watch Audrey. Even when they take Capote’s story and convert it from a fairly downcast and gloomy story into a romantic comedy romp complete with a Hollywood happy ending. Frankly, that’s a huge cop-out, but I also realize that if they had simply made the movie the way Capote wrote the story, no one would have liked it.

The cat’s better in the movie, though. Capote didn’t really develop his part very well in the book.

And I guess that’s about all I have to say about this whole thing. I liked the book, but I didn’t care for the movie that much. And Tiffany’s doesn’t serve breakfast, dammit.