Truman Capote
Born: September 30, 1924 in New Orleans, Louisiana, The United States
Died: August 25, 1984
Genre: Literature & Fiction, Nonfiction
Truman Capote was an American writer whose non-fiction, stories, novels and plays are recognised literary classics, including the novella Breakfast at Tiffany's (1958) and In Cold Blood (1965), which he labeled a "non-fiction novel." At least 20 films and TV dramas have been produced from Capote novels, stories and screenplays.
He was born as Truman Streckfus Persons to a salesman Archelaus Persons and young Lillie Mae. His parents divorced when he was four and he went to live with his mother's relatives in Monroeville, Alabama. He was a lonely child who learned to read and write by himself before entering school. In 1933, he moved to New York City to live with his mother and her new husband, Joseph Capote, a Cuban-born businessman. Mr. Capote adopted Truman, legally changing his last name to Capote and enrolling him in private school. After graduating from high school in 1942, Truman Capote began his regular job as a copy boy at The New Yorker. During this time, he also began his career as a writer, publishing many short stories which introduced him into a circle of literary critics. His first novel, Other Voices, Other Rooms, published in 1948, stayed on The New York Times bestseller list for nine weeks and became controversial because of the photograph of Capote used to promote the novel, posing seductively and gazing into the camera.
In the 1950s and 1960s, Capote remained prolific producing both fiction and non-fiction. His masterpiece, In Cold Blood, a story about the murder of the Clutter family in Holcomb, Kansas, was published in 1966 in book form by Random House, became a worldwide success and brought Capote much praise from the literary community. After this success he published rarely and suffered from alcohol addiction. He died in 1984 at age 59.
He was born as Truman Streckfus Persons to a salesman Archelaus Persons and young Lillie Mae. His parents divorced when he was four and he went to live with his mother's relatives in Monroeville, Alabama. He was a lonely child who learned to read and write by himself before entering school. In 1933, he moved to New York City to live with his mother and her new husband, Joseph Capote, a Cuban-born businessman. Mr. Capote adopted Truman, legally changing his last name to Capote and enrolling him in private school. After graduating from high school in 1942, Truman Capote began his regular job as a copy boy at The New Yorker. During this time, he also began his career as a writer, publishing many short stories which introduced him into a circle of literary critics. His first novel, Other Voices, Other Rooms, published in 1948, stayed on The New York Times bestseller list for nine weeks and became controversial because of the photograph of Capote used to promote the novel, posing seductively and gazing into the camera.
In the 1950s and 1960s, Capote remained prolific producing both fiction and non-fiction. His masterpiece, In Cold Blood, a story about the murder of the Clutter family in Holcomb, Kansas, was published in 1966 in book form by Random House, became a worldwide success and brought Capote much praise from the literary community. After this success he published rarely and suffered from alcohol addiction. He died in 1984 at age 59.
In Cold Blood: A True Account of a Multiple Murder and Its Consequences
On November 15, 1959, in the small town of Holcomb, Kansas, four members of the Clutter family were savagely murdered by blasts from a shotgun held a few inches from their faces. There was no apparent motive for the crime, and there were almost no clues.
As Truman Capote reconstructs the murder and the investigation that led to the capture, trial, and execution of the killers, he generates both mesmerizing suspense and astonishing empathy. In Cold Blood is a work that transcends its moment, yielding poignant insights into the nature of American violence.
As Truman Capote reconstructs the murder and the investigation that led to the capture, trial, and execution of the killers, he generates both mesmerizing suspense and astonishing empathy. In Cold Blood is a work that transcends its moment, yielding poignant insights into the nature of American violence.
Quotes from In Cold Blood
"Just remember: If one bird carried every grain of sand, grain by grain, across the ocean, by the time he got them all on the other side, that would only be the beginning of eternity. "
"I despise people who can't control themselves."
"It is no shame to have a dirty face- the shame comes when you keep it dirty."
"There’s got to be something wrong with us. To do what we did. "
"Those fellows, they're always crying over killers. Never a thought for the victims."
"As long as you live, there's always something waiting; and even if it's bad, and you know it's bad, what can you do? You can't stop living."
"The enemy was anyone who was someone he wanted to be or who had anything he wanted to have."
"I've tried to believe, but I don't, I can't, and there's no use pretending."
"Hickock whistled and rolled his eyes. "Wow!" he said, and then, summoning his talent for something very like total recall, he began an account of the long ride -the approximately ten thousand miles he and Smith had covered in the past six weeks. He talked for an hour and twenty-five minutes--from two-fifty to four-fifteen--and told, while Nye attempted to list them, of highways and hotels, motels, rivers, towns, and cities, a chorus of entwining names: Apache, El Paso, Corpus Christi, Santillo, San Luis Potosi, Acapulco, San Diego, Dallas, Omaha, Sweetwater, Stillwater, Tenville Junction, Tallahassee, Needles, Miami, Hotel Nuevo Waldorf, Somerset Hotel, Hotel Simone, Arrowhead Motel, Cherokee Motel, and many, many more. He gave them the name of the man in Mexico to whom he'd sold his own 1940 Chevrolet, and confessed that he had stolen a newer model in Iowa."
"Hickock whistled and rolled his eyes. "Wow!" he said, and then, summoning his talent for something very like total recall, he began an account of the long ride -the approximately ten thousand miles he and Smith had covered in the past six weeks. He talked for an hour and twenty-five minutes--from two-fifty to four-fifteen--and told, while Nye attempted to list them, of highways and hotels, motels, rivers, towns, and cities, a chorus of entwining names: Apache, El Paso, Corpus Christi, Santillo, San Luis Potosi, Acapulco, San Diego, Dallas, Omaha, Sweetwater, Stillwater, Tenville Junction, Tallahassee, Needles, Miami, Hotel Nuevo Waldorf, Somerset Hotel, Hotel Simone, Arrowhead Motel, Cherokee Motel, and many, many more. He gave them the name of the man in Mexico to whom he'd sold his own 1940 Chevrolet, and confessed that he had stolen a newer model in Iowa."
Comments about In Cold Blood written by teachers and journalists.
1. by Kristi Steffen
At first I wasn't going to compose a review about this book. Considering the adapted-to-screen version, the biographical film centering around this period in the author's life, the seemingly infinite number of editions printed over the last 40+ years, the massive hype surrounding the murders/murderers even today, the more than likely THOUSANDS AND THOUSANDS of reviews already written about the novel, and the general rock-stardom that IS Truman Capote, it seemed about as pointless as dropping a pebble into the Pacific Ocean and hoping for a wave. Then I remembered that I had the gall to write a review about Dante's Inferno and thought...hey, why start worrying about being humble now? Truman certainly wasn't. He was blingin' before bling was even a word, kids. Hell, he had to walk to school uphill both ways barefoot in the snow carting around all his bling. But enough about SlickRick...err...Truman. On with the review! (gallop, gallop, gallop).
The true-crime genre. Generally stinkier than what I would imagine that obese dude in Se7en's gaseous wind-breaks would be. I generally never peruse this section, which is why for entirely too long I was living under the assumption that the local bookstore was simply always sold out of copies of In Cold Blood. I'd been trying to read it for ages, but hadn't even considered that it could be over on the same shelf as The Stranger Beside Me (some of you, my lovely goodreads BFF's, may recall my feelings regarding THAT piece of shit). But enough with the review-nostalgia. I finally found it one day, took it home, and pounded it down like it was dressed tequila. It was the perfect book, in fact, to get me out of my reading funk. THREE CHEERS FOR MURDER! But I digress...
The novel is superbly crafted, with spot-on pacing (with the exception of the first chapter which, though necessary, does draaaaaaaaaag on a wheeeeeeeeee bit) and, more importantly, characters so real that they don't even seem real. Their conversations flow with a subtle grace rarely seen in published writing in general, and specifically (surprisingly) even less in true crime novels. You would think that you would think "the shit is, like, for real real, so it should seem more for real real when you write it down for real than other not for real shit that you write down, right?" However, part of the oddly convincing feeling that one gets from the characters in In Cold Blood is actually largely due to the fact that the dialogue is written in a novelistic style rather than through the true crime genre's irritatingly common habit of using(more often than not chopped to bits) "direct" quotations. I would argue that this approach serves to put you outside of the situation, and makes you feel detached from the horrors of the subject matter, as well as less sensitive to the most important lessons that we could possibly learn from true crime books in general: The WHO these people actually were. The WHAT drove them over the edge. The WHEN they lost their marbles. The WHERE in their pasts the pivotal damage occurred. In short, not just the HOW they did what they did, but WHY they did it to begin with. I can’t say that Capote necessarily answer all of these questions. However, he made his best effort to, setting the stage for generations of true-crime authors to follow in his footsteps and expand upon the genre-bending path he laid for them. It is really too bad that so few actually do.
The novel is superbly crafted, with spot-on pacing (with the exception of the first chapter which, though necessary, does draaaaaaaaaag on a wheeeeeeeeee bit) and, more importantly, characters so real that they don't even seem real. Their conversations flow with a subtle grace rarely seen in published writing in general, and specifically (surprisingly) even less in true crime novels. You would think that you would think "the shit is, like, for real real, so it should seem more for real real when you write it down for real than other not for real shit that you write down, right?" However, part of the oddly convincing feeling that one gets from the characters in In Cold Blood is actually largely due to the fact that the dialogue is written in a novelistic style rather than through the true crime genre's irritatingly common habit of using(more often than not chopped to bits) "direct" quotations. I would argue that this approach serves to put you outside of the situation, and makes you feel detached from the horrors of the subject matter, as well as less sensitive to the most important lessons that we could possibly learn from true crime books in general: The WHO these people actually were. The WHAT drove them over the edge. The WHEN they lost their marbles. The WHERE in their pasts the pivotal damage occurred. In short, not just the HOW they did what they did, but WHY they did it to begin with. I can’t say that Capote necessarily answer all of these questions. However, he made his best effort to, setting the stage for generations of true-crime authors to follow in his footsteps and expand upon the genre-bending path he laid for them. It is really too bad that so few actually do.
2. Rolls Andre
Recommends it for: Tru crime fans - get it?
Truman Capote's "In Cold Blood" is a highly disconcerting read. After painting an idyllic scene we'd expect from the Midwestern setting evil makes it's presence felt. The blood is chilled and the heart gripped as a result.
As everyone must know by now this is considered the first nonfiction novel. Meaning that all of the bare facts of this story actually took place. A family of four was indeed murdered in their home by two unknown assailants on 14 November 1959. What made this book innovative was the fact that Capote handled these facts not as a journalist but as a novelist. Rather than restrict himself to just the "who, what, where, when and why" of the fourth estate he let the fiction writer in him fill in the gaps left by the facts at hand. Scenes like Bonnie Clutter's last sad night on earth could and would only be attempted by a novelist.
While Capote never makes it possible for us to forgive the murderers (not that he or anyone could) he goes a long way towards making them sympathetic. It is the film's ("Capote") claim that he fell in love with Perry Smith while writing this book. Perhaps. Smith does indeed come off as a fully rounded person while Hickock seems less interesting to him (and consequently to us). What counts though is that he makes them human. After reading about the nature of this crime that in itself is a huge achievement.
Finally I just want to point out a person who played a huge part in this story but always fails to attract the attention accorded to the murdered, murderers or Capote himself namely Alvin Dewey. Dewey is the relentless Javert of this tale and it is through his eyes we see the facts unfold. Capote's drawing of him as a man "morally" wounded by the evil inherent in the murders of this poor family touches the heart. His refusal to let the murderers get away with their heinous crime galvanizes the spirit in turn.
This is where the true greatness of this book lies.
I started this book one night at two in the morning and read til I finished it at nine a.m. It is the very definition of a page turner. Once you are told what happened it is impossible to put this book down until you find out why.
As everyone must know by now this is considered the first nonfiction novel. Meaning that all of the bare facts of this story actually took place. A family of four was indeed murdered in their home by two unknown assailants on 14 November 1959. What made this book innovative was the fact that Capote handled these facts not as a journalist but as a novelist. Rather than restrict himself to just the "who, what, where, when and why" of the fourth estate he let the fiction writer in him fill in the gaps left by the facts at hand. Scenes like Bonnie Clutter's last sad night on earth could and would only be attempted by a novelist.
While Capote never makes it possible for us to forgive the murderers (not that he or anyone could) he goes a long way towards making them sympathetic. It is the film's ("Capote") claim that he fell in love with Perry Smith while writing this book. Perhaps. Smith does indeed come off as a fully rounded person while Hickock seems less interesting to him (and consequently to us). What counts though is that he makes them human. After reading about the nature of this crime that in itself is a huge achievement.
Finally I just want to point out a person who played a huge part in this story but always fails to attract the attention accorded to the murdered, murderers or Capote himself namely Alvin Dewey. Dewey is the relentless Javert of this tale and it is through his eyes we see the facts unfold. Capote's drawing of him as a man "morally" wounded by the evil inherent in the murders of this poor family touches the heart. His refusal to let the murderers get away with their heinous crime galvanizes the spirit in turn.
This is where the true greatness of this book lies.
I started this book one night at two in the morning and read til I finished it at nine a.m. It is the very definition of a page turner. Once you are told what happened it is impossible to put this book down until you find out why.
3. Jason Binks
Within 10 minutes of finishing In Cold Blood you'll be on the internet searching for pictures of the killers and victims of this real world multiple-slaying narrated brilliantly by Truman Capote. The photos are there, and like a voyeur, you'll be drawn, captivated, needing to see the mug shots, the murdered family, the courtroom stills, the crime scene, each room that held a body with a head blown open like a busted melon.
Capote breathes such realism into the characters that all you'll need to make the story complete are those black-and-white photos. With an economy of words and language that is clear and straightforward, Capote successfully makes a difficult story very readable, very believable. The difficult part was taking a true story constructed from witness statements, interrogations, and multiple interviews between killers and author, and then salting in between with a dialogue that is perfectly deduced from a close personal knowledge of the killers--their attributes, their movements, their proclivities.
I felt like I was watching the action unfold, not so much reading it. And yet, Capote was able to do this without the cloyed techniques so prevalent in the mass media paperbacks you find at large grocery store chains. There are no outrageous cliffhangers between chapters, no desperate chases, no irrational climax, no unknown player revealed in chapter finis. In fact, he chose to introduce the murderers up front, then coolly alternates chapters between killers and victims, and then, when victims were eliminated, between killers and prosecutors. I liked this approach. It's uncommon. I liked the way it disarmed me, and made it a story of mechanical transaction rather than an emotional racetrack. For this reason the story, for me, was one of 'why' instead of 'how.'
I also liked that Capote applied psychoanalysis to the crime. Surely there must have been some insanity involved. But no, not really! And that was the real surprise. Apart from a tough childhood and some persistant hard knocks, the killers were probably no more deviant than a majority of cases that fall through the juvenille system, even today. The key ingredient to the crime was the bizarre congruency of their personalities--merely deviant when separated--that when mixed together created a lethal combination. Operating together, the killers must have felt the bewilderment one experiences when finding 2 spalls of broken rock in a large pile and suddenly, absurdly, fitting them exactly together.
Capote breathes such realism into the characters that all you'll need to make the story complete are those black-and-white photos. With an economy of words and language that is clear and straightforward, Capote successfully makes a difficult story very readable, very believable. The difficult part was taking a true story constructed from witness statements, interrogations, and multiple interviews between killers and author, and then salting in between with a dialogue that is perfectly deduced from a close personal knowledge of the killers--their attributes, their movements, their proclivities.
I felt like I was watching the action unfold, not so much reading it. And yet, Capote was able to do this without the cloyed techniques so prevalent in the mass media paperbacks you find at large grocery store chains. There are no outrageous cliffhangers between chapters, no desperate chases, no irrational climax, no unknown player revealed in chapter finis. In fact, he chose to introduce the murderers up front, then coolly alternates chapters between killers and victims, and then, when victims were eliminated, between killers and prosecutors. I liked this approach. It's uncommon. I liked the way it disarmed me, and made it a story of mechanical transaction rather than an emotional racetrack. For this reason the story, for me, was one of 'why' instead of 'how.'
I also liked that Capote applied psychoanalysis to the crime. Surely there must have been some insanity involved. But no, not really! And that was the real surprise. Apart from a tough childhood and some persistant hard knocks, the killers were probably no more deviant than a majority of cases that fall through the juvenille system, even today. The key ingredient to the crime was the bizarre congruency of their personalities--merely deviant when separated--that when mixed together created a lethal combination. Operating together, the killers must have felt the bewilderment one experiences when finding 2 spalls of broken rock in a large pile and suddenly, absurdly, fitting them exactly together.
4. Shannon Brennan
We've all heard quite a lot about (from?) Truman Capote these past 12 months. Between Philip Seymour Hoffman's Capote and what's-his-name's (Toby Jones') performance in Infamous, it's rather difficult to even crack the spine of this over-explicated text without hearing the faint cackle of new-york-high-society-types, or picturing Mr. Capote himself, before a crowd, holding the book (a tome, in my mental image) above his head, in that fantastic anecdote about the primacy of the text. So, perhaps, we don't want to read it. Or to re-read it. Because of the cackling. And the hype.
But I must tell you, dear reader: I just read it. Just now. Just yesterday. And I must be honest, too: it's rather good. It's rather good, yes, even (perhaps especially) in the context of all of this Hollywood hype: reading Perry Smith, for instance, as the novel's Perry Smith, and then as each director's Perry Smith, is an absolutely delightful project.
And, no, In Cold Blood doesn't feel groundbreaking, journalistically, or novelistically--which makes sense, because time has, of course, passed since then, and The Laramie Project is fresh-ish in our (my) minds, but it feels...different. There is a precision to every word, every character, every scene, that I've seldom slapped eyes on. Mr. Capote's novel is what Winesburg, Ohio would be, if God skipped town and something cold, like fact, took His place. Which is pretty awful, and pretty great.
But I must tell you, dear reader: I just read it. Just now. Just yesterday. And I must be honest, too: it's rather good. It's rather good, yes, even (perhaps especially) in the context of all of this Hollywood hype: reading Perry Smith, for instance, as the novel's Perry Smith, and then as each director's Perry Smith, is an absolutely delightful project.
And, no, In Cold Blood doesn't feel groundbreaking, journalistically, or novelistically--which makes sense, because time has, of course, passed since then, and The Laramie Project is fresh-ish in our (my) minds, but it feels...different. There is a precision to every word, every character, every scene, that I've seldom slapped eyes on. Mr. Capote's novel is what Winesburg, Ohio would be, if God skipped town and something cold, like fact, took His place. Which is pretty awful, and pretty great.
5. Mel Jones
In Cold Blood was an experiment in form—and the expansion of a genre. The author, Truman Capote did five years of painstaking research before committing what he learned to the page. The story of how the text came to be is almost as fascinating as the tale of the Clutter murders itself.
Capote insisted that there should be no authorial presence in the text, and yet his voice drips from each page. The protagonist is Perry Smith, the murderer who Capote is quoted comparing himself to. In the book our sympathies lie with the murderer—with Capote—with the outsider. And the text is successful in this, the reader, this reader, walks away wondering if there but for the grace of God go any one of us.
And yet, Capote is not present. It would be impossible for Capote to have put himself into his book without taking away from the story. He was colorful, egocentric, and well, generally speaking, the center of attention. The impression gotten from the articles written about Capote and his work was that he was not well received in Holcomb. There were reports of Truman at hotels in pink lingerie… In 1959, in Kansas, one can assume that wasn’t very acceptable. Had he made himself someone within the text – how would that have changed the mom-and-apple-pie presentation he gives us? It’s not his story – he isn’t a character in it and I think wisely chose to allow the character be who and what they were – it gives the story a sort of insular integrity – these people, in this community…that Truman was not in any way connected to. The power of the story lies, at least in my opinion, in his physical absence.
The structure of the text is compelling there is a starting point and an ending point. What happens in between is relative and although factual, it is contextual. The book is not linear at all and yet not once does the reader feel lost in time or space. What amazed me about Capote was his transitions from the murdered’s point of view to the murderers, to the detectives—seamlessly. I’m not sure how aware I was of this until I watched the movie, which isn’t seamless. It is clear why this text is one of the hallmarks in the genre of creative nonfiction.
Capote insisted that there should be no authorial presence in the text, and yet his voice drips from each page. The protagonist is Perry Smith, the murderer who Capote is quoted comparing himself to. In the book our sympathies lie with the murderer—with Capote—with the outsider. And the text is successful in this, the reader, this reader, walks away wondering if there but for the grace of God go any one of us.
And yet, Capote is not present. It would be impossible for Capote to have put himself into his book without taking away from the story. He was colorful, egocentric, and well, generally speaking, the center of attention. The impression gotten from the articles written about Capote and his work was that he was not well received in Holcomb. There were reports of Truman at hotels in pink lingerie… In 1959, in Kansas, one can assume that wasn’t very acceptable. Had he made himself someone within the text – how would that have changed the mom-and-apple-pie presentation he gives us? It’s not his story – he isn’t a character in it and I think wisely chose to allow the character be who and what they were – it gives the story a sort of insular integrity – these people, in this community…that Truman was not in any way connected to. The power of the story lies, at least in my opinion, in his physical absence.
The structure of the text is compelling there is a starting point and an ending point. What happens in between is relative and although factual, it is contextual. The book is not linear at all and yet not once does the reader feel lost in time or space. What amazed me about Capote was his transitions from the murdered’s point of view to the murderers, to the detectives—seamlessly. I’m not sure how aware I was of this until I watched the movie, which isn’t seamless. It is clear why this text is one of the hallmarks in the genre of creative nonfiction.
6. Philip Spires
In Cold Blood by Truman Capote was published in 1966, and is based on events that happened almost fifty years ago. The events were real. This is not a work of fiction. The Clutters, an appropriately surnamed Kansas family, have their own complications within their rambling homestead. What family doesn’t? Clutter the father is a farmer. Who isn’t in these parts? Life is not so productive of late. Whose is? The two younger children, a daughter and a son, still live in. The others have left, happily.
And then, in November 1959, the four Clutters are found gagged, apart from the mother, all with their throats cut and their brains blown out by shotgun fire. The community is in turmoil. No-one can explain why anyone might have wanted to kill a whole family in Holcomb, a small, poor, rural community in the mid-West Bible belt.
Hickock (Hicock) and Smith are two lads on the move. Their families might be dysfunctional. On the other hand they might not. Their socialisation might have been lacking. On the other hand it might not. For whatever reason, individually and collectively they prey on others, prey in a way that renders them culpable, detectable and ultimately punishable. They know thieving is wrong. So, one of them says, we’ve stolen lives, so it must be serious. It was the two of them that pulled the trigger, that blew brains out, that slit throats, that did not quite commit rape. There are limits. And all for forty dollars and a transistor radio.
I give nothing of this book away when I reveal that the two lads did commit the murders – exactly how no-one ever admitted – and that, after years of litigious wrangling, both were hanged. The strength of In Cold Blood is not what happens, but how it happens.
Truman Capote offers us a vast book in just four sustained chapters, each of which is sub-divided as the narrative shifts between aspects of the different protagonists’ lives. Throughout, the style is much more complex than mere journalism, but the clarity with which it communicates is at times breathtaking. We hear from those directly involved, both victims and perpetrators, their families, the police, the judiciary, the neighbours, the lawyers, the passers-by, the acquaintances, the cellmates. The detail is forensic.
It is essential that the reader is constantly reminded that this is not fiction. Truman Capote offers dialogue where a journalist would report, offers interpretation where an historian would defer, offer opinion where an observer might decline. And so In Cold Blood becomes and absorbing, multi-faceted, mid-twentieth century reworking of Crime And Punishment. The crucial difference that the intervening years have generated is that where the latter concentrated on the individual circumstances and motives of the perpetrator, In Cold Blood explores the social and the contextual alongside the psychological.
And this is where the book becomes deeply disturbing, because it seems to suggest that the individuality that contemporary society seems to demand of us might itself promote a degree of self-centredness, of selfishness, perhaps, that might give rise to nothing less than contempt for others. In the forty years since the publication of In Cold Blood, it could be argued that such pressures might have increased. Frightening, indeed.
And then, in November 1959, the four Clutters are found gagged, apart from the mother, all with their throats cut and their brains blown out by shotgun fire. The community is in turmoil. No-one can explain why anyone might have wanted to kill a whole family in Holcomb, a small, poor, rural community in the mid-West Bible belt.
Hickock (Hicock) and Smith are two lads on the move. Their families might be dysfunctional. On the other hand they might not. Their socialisation might have been lacking. On the other hand it might not. For whatever reason, individually and collectively they prey on others, prey in a way that renders them culpable, detectable and ultimately punishable. They know thieving is wrong. So, one of them says, we’ve stolen lives, so it must be serious. It was the two of them that pulled the trigger, that blew brains out, that slit throats, that did not quite commit rape. There are limits. And all for forty dollars and a transistor radio.
I give nothing of this book away when I reveal that the two lads did commit the murders – exactly how no-one ever admitted – and that, after years of litigious wrangling, both were hanged. The strength of In Cold Blood is not what happens, but how it happens.
Truman Capote offers us a vast book in just four sustained chapters, each of which is sub-divided as the narrative shifts between aspects of the different protagonists’ lives. Throughout, the style is much more complex than mere journalism, but the clarity with which it communicates is at times breathtaking. We hear from those directly involved, both victims and perpetrators, their families, the police, the judiciary, the neighbours, the lawyers, the passers-by, the acquaintances, the cellmates. The detail is forensic.
It is essential that the reader is constantly reminded that this is not fiction. Truman Capote offers dialogue where a journalist would report, offers interpretation where an historian would defer, offer opinion where an observer might decline. And so In Cold Blood becomes and absorbing, multi-faceted, mid-twentieth century reworking of Crime And Punishment. The crucial difference that the intervening years have generated is that where the latter concentrated on the individual circumstances and motives of the perpetrator, In Cold Blood explores the social and the contextual alongside the psychological.
And this is where the book becomes deeply disturbing, because it seems to suggest that the individuality that contemporary society seems to demand of us might itself promote a degree of self-centredness, of selfishness, perhaps, that might give rise to nothing less than contempt for others. In the forty years since the publication of In Cold Blood, it could be argued that such pressures might have increased. Frightening, indeed.
7. Rebecca Adler
In Cold Blood is a book I wouldn't normally have chosen because a) I'm afraid of everything and this for sure sounded like a scary topic and b) it's a true crime story, which makes it even more frightening in my mind. However, I'm glad I read it. I learned a lot about Truman Capote (sorry, wasn't one of the billions who went to see the movie about him a few years back), including that he was the first true crime author. As a journalist, I also really liked seeing how he was able to put all of his interviews together into a flowing story (and a super long one at that!).
In Cold Blood is about two criminals who think they've found a good gig when one of their inmates tells them about a farm job he used to have. The inmate tells them that the farmer spends $10,000 a week to run his business and the two assume the farmer, Mr. Clutter, keeps all that cash in a safe on his property. Once the two are released from jail, they drive 300 miles to the Clutter farm with the intentions of robbing the place and leaving no witnesses. When they get there they learn what anyone from the Clutter's town knows about the family: Mr. Clutter never has any cash on him. The locals joke that he'd write you a check for $1.50 because he never carries that much cash on him. Unfortunately, the lack of cash doesn't save the family and all 4 family members are shot in the head. It was a crime that rocked the nation in 1959 because it happened in such a small town, where people were presumably more safe than in big cities.
Capote interviews everyone in the town and the two killers after they've been caught and he paints a vivid picture of the town and these criminals. You almost begin to feel sorry for the two criminals who had such hard lives up to this point. But once they describe the murder to detectives (more than halfway through the book), you can't help but be horrified by them. Up until this point you only had a vague idea of what happened based on what police thought. Hearing it straight from the murderers was difficult because they didn't seem to understand that they'd done anything wrong. One of them, Perry Smith, even says, "I thought he was a very nice, gentle man. I thought so right up until I slit his throat."
I read this book at home alone at night and ended up not being able to sleep because it gave me the creepies. It was really well written and I recommend it, but if you're a scaredy cat like me, make sure someone is home with you so you can discuss it and get out all those worries.
In Cold Blood is about two criminals who think they've found a good gig when one of their inmates tells them about a farm job he used to have. The inmate tells them that the farmer spends $10,000 a week to run his business and the two assume the farmer, Mr. Clutter, keeps all that cash in a safe on his property. Once the two are released from jail, they drive 300 miles to the Clutter farm with the intentions of robbing the place and leaving no witnesses. When they get there they learn what anyone from the Clutter's town knows about the family: Mr. Clutter never has any cash on him. The locals joke that he'd write you a check for $1.50 because he never carries that much cash on him. Unfortunately, the lack of cash doesn't save the family and all 4 family members are shot in the head. It was a crime that rocked the nation in 1959 because it happened in such a small town, where people were presumably more safe than in big cities.
Capote interviews everyone in the town and the two killers after they've been caught and he paints a vivid picture of the town and these criminals. You almost begin to feel sorry for the two criminals who had such hard lives up to this point. But once they describe the murder to detectives (more than halfway through the book), you can't help but be horrified by them. Up until this point you only had a vague idea of what happened based on what police thought. Hearing it straight from the murderers was difficult because they didn't seem to understand that they'd done anything wrong. One of them, Perry Smith, even says, "I thought he was a very nice, gentle man. I thought so right up until I slit his throat."
I read this book at home alone at night and ended up not being able to sleep because it gave me the creepies. It was really well written and I recommend it, but if you're a scaredy cat like me, make sure someone is home with you so you can discuss it and get out all those worries.
8. Jenn Elison
Let me start off by saying that I listened to the audio version narrated by Scott Brick. I found him to be an amazing narrator. He gave each of the main characters their own voice without being overly dramatic or cheesy. There was a subtle uniqueness to each voice that only added to my enjoyment of the book. He is the first narrator that I can picture myself listening to based on his presence and not necessarily based on the book.
Should we invest in literature based on true stories that focus mainly on the perpetrators? Is it wrong that Perry Smith and Dick Hickock are as memorable to me than the Clutters--probably even more so? That may be true for a lesser book than In Cold Blood, but reading this book is completely worth while. It's a book that I've always been curious about but never read. I am, overall, a fan of the "murder mystery" genre, but I tend towards fiction rather than stories based in truth partly because I hate the fact that the victims might be exploited and the criminals glorified. But the sheer genius of the writing style in this book place it in a unique genre of its own.
I don't think that I have fully digested this book. It may take me a while. As a result of reading it I had a wide range of feelings. Some include: sorrow for the family and friends of the Clutters; a desire to understand why it happened; anguish for Dick's parents and, to a lesser degree, Perry's family; amazement at the evil there is in the world; and a deeper realization that there is very little in the world that is black and white.
And after reading this on the heels of Camus' The Stranger, I feel an essay coming on. How interesting to read two very different accounts of two similar characters. And by similar I am speaking of Perry Smith and Meursault, who both commit senseless murders without remorse. The similarities, to me, are astounding!
This was a fascinating read. I don't know that it is ever possible to document an event and the people involved in it in a completely unbiased way. But realizing that, this book is a very well-written and worthy attempt.
Should we invest in literature based on true stories that focus mainly on the perpetrators? Is it wrong that Perry Smith and Dick Hickock are as memorable to me than the Clutters--probably even more so? That may be true for a lesser book than In Cold Blood, but reading this book is completely worth while. It's a book that I've always been curious about but never read. I am, overall, a fan of the "murder mystery" genre, but I tend towards fiction rather than stories based in truth partly because I hate the fact that the victims might be exploited and the criminals glorified. But the sheer genius of the writing style in this book place it in a unique genre of its own.
I don't think that I have fully digested this book. It may take me a while. As a result of reading it I had a wide range of feelings. Some include: sorrow for the family and friends of the Clutters; a desire to understand why it happened; anguish for Dick's parents and, to a lesser degree, Perry's family; amazement at the evil there is in the world; and a deeper realization that there is very little in the world that is black and white.
And after reading this on the heels of Camus' The Stranger, I feel an essay coming on. How interesting to read two very different accounts of two similar characters. And by similar I am speaking of Perry Smith and Meursault, who both commit senseless murders without remorse. The similarities, to me, are astounding!
This was a fascinating read. I don't know that it is ever possible to document an event and the people involved in it in a completely unbiased way. But realizing that, this book is a very well-written and worthy attempt.
http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/168642.In_Cold_Blood
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