I’ve mentioned that I’m reading all the time here, even though my tally is nowhere near as high as Danny’s when he was this far into service. I console myself by saying that I also read most of the longform journalism that makes it onto the web and that I’m going through a list of 20th Century Western canon that I never got to in high school or college (here’s the link, suggest me stuff if you think I’ve got glaring holes; I don’t know if Goodreads will tell you you’ve suggested something I’ve already read or if crowdsourcing works when your blog only has twelve regular readers, but well there it is), but really I think he’s just more dedicated to the endeavor.
I’ve got to find material for the blog, though, so I’m going to start reviewing some of the books I go through, either in fast little snippets like in this post or in longer, I-wish-it-were-like-NYRB-style-essays, which I’ll do for Arthur Koestler’s Darkness at Noon maybe.
Breakfast at Tiffany’s — Truman Capote
Like most people (I think, in this particular case), I’d seen the movie before I read the book, and I don’t know if it’s just because you tend to like and believe the things that you see first, but I’d have to maintain that I enjoyed the film more (as opposed to the usual order of things). It’s hard not to hope for a happy ending where Hepburn is concerned, and once you’ve seen her as Holly Golightly, it’s hard to think of the character as anyone else.
Plus the Paul Varjak—George Peppard gigolo bit is fun and it doesn’t play in the novel.