Writing from the Heart – Lessons of Truman Capote’s “A Christmas Memory”
By John J Kelley | September 27, 2019 |
Photo by Isakarakus via Pixabay Free License
“All you have to do is write one true sentence. Write the truest sentence that you know.” – Ernest Hemingway
A few years ago, I undertook a private education of sorts, reading classics I had missed in my youth. Apparently, my college engineering studies had cut short an otherwise promising literary foundation. Imagine that! At any rate, at some point during my remedial studies I picked up a copy of Truman Capote’s Breakfast at Tiffany’s, which I devoured in one sitting. Fortunately, the relatively short novella was accompanied by three other stories, one of which opened my eyes to how a simple tale can leave a profound impression when sculpted by a writer at the top of his game.
To this day I still return to “A Christmas Memory” for inspiration. The language is sparse, at times reading more like notes rather than fully formed passages. But the voice draws you in from the start, and the descriptions of, well, everything – from the scarlet berries on wild hollies to the chill of winter streams to the bite of straight whiskey – beckon you to a time few today would even know and yet which somehow feels achingly familiar. Quite simply, it is a masterpiece.
But what stands out most of all, for me, is the tale’s emotional core. The main characters, two distant cousins – one young, one old – and their tattered canine companion, form a family of misfits. And while their various adventures in the lead up to a Depression-era Christmas are often humorous, it is their easy banter and open affection with one another which propel the story. Neither tension, though shadows in their lives are hinted at, nor an elaborate plot compel the reader. Instead, it is simply the desire to understand this unlikely relationship and the hardscrabble life they share which keeps one invested in their outcomes.
I may never craft a story anchored so fully in pure emotion, but Capote’s writing in “A Christmas Memory” remains a touchstone for me, for it serves as a guide to essential components of any scene in which a character reaches an emotional turning point. So, how did he do it? What elements did Capote perfect to deliver such a powerful punch?
Capote Opened his Heart
One of the reasons the tale feels so immediate and brimming with the texture of real life is because it is indeed a memoir from Capote’s youth, and a tribute to his relationship with an eccentric and loving cousin. By any measure Capote’s childhood was a disjointed one, and his Cousin Sook was the one relative with which he felt secure. She was a simple woman who showered her younger cousin with affection. He in turn was her main companion, given that others in their town tended to frown upon her childlike eccentricities. And thus the stories he wrote about her, though perhaps dappled by the glow of nostalgia, feel real because, emotionally, they are.
What makes Capote’s “A Christmas Memory” exceptional is the honesty with which he approaches the subject matter. Writing as an adult, he still manages to draw from his deepest recollections to tell their stories through the eyes of a youth long since gone. His willingness to do that, to immerse himself back into the mind of his childhood, adds a richness to every scene.
I believe there is a lesson in that for any writer, regardless of genre. And the lesson is that in moments of great pain or character transformation, one should step inside the skin of the character. Commit yourself to seeing the world through their eyes and in the hearts at that moment while drawing upon the reservoir of your own personal experiences. Allow the reactions to spring from a true emotional core, your own, rather than creating a caricature based upon a hypothetical response.
Capote Dropped all Pretension
“A woman with shorn white hair is standing at the kitchen window. She is wearing tennis shoes and a shapeless gray sweater over a summery calico dress. She is small and sprightly, like a bantam hen; but, due to a youthful illness, her shoulders are pitifully hunched. Her face is remarkable — not unlike Lincoln’s, craggy like that, and tinted by sun and wind; but it is delicate too, finely boned, and her eyes are sherry-colored and timid.”
This is Capote’s introduction of his older cousin in the opening paragraphs. He paints a vivid picture, both here and in descriptions throughout the tale. But more than that, he presents matter-of-fact images. There is no pretense. These are poor people scraping by in a struggling community, and he offers no gloss. Kindness, yes, but no rose-colored glasses.
He tackles emotions in the story in precisely the same way. When the characters laugh, you can practically hear the echo through the trees. But, at another point, when his cousin breaks down “long after the town has gone to sleep,” he describes her “weeping into a pillow already as wet as a widow’s handkerchief.” Time and again, Capote creates beautiful images; but he doesn’t shy from stripping them down to a heartbreaking essence when emotions ebb.
He Lets Emotion Shine
At this point, you might well think that “A Christmas Memory” is a sad story; and in some ways it is. It is also a story of love and friendship, even resilience. But I believe the greatest gift to writers from the story is that Capote never waivers from showing the true and raw emotions of his characters. When they are happy, they revel in life. When pain comes, they express it. And Capote’s descriptions capture both fully and unvarnished.
That is what inspires me each time I read the tale. In our own lives, and at times in writings, it is easy to hold back. It feels safer. And yet Capote in this tale provides an example – a lovely example – of what happens when you allow a full expression of character on the page.
What do you think? Are you familiar with “A Christmas Memory”? Do you have similar impressions, or did you feel it relied too heavily upon an emotional hook? Do other stories, or authors, come to mind that offer good examples for expressing emotion? Please share your thoughts in the comments — I look forward to hearing them.
[coffee]
John J Kelley crafts tales of individuals at a crossroads, exploring themes of growth, reconciliation and community. His debut novel, The Fallen Snow, about a young soldier’s homecoming at the close of WWI, received a Publishers Weekly starred review and earned an Honorable Mention nod at the 2012 Foreword Reviews Book-of-the-Year Awards.
Born and raised in the Florida panhandle, John graduated from Virginia Tech and for a time served as a military officer. Today he lives with his partner in Washington, DC.
This was swoon-worthy, John. Lovely, just lovely.
Thanks, Densie! Capote is one of those writers who brings out the romantic in me. Aside from In Cold Blood, that is, and even that narrative is mesmerizing.
Wow, thank you for your column today. I just ordered that book. I loved the samples of writing. I’ve been staying current in my novel reading, yet often the subject matter is hard to take and I’m missing heart and humor. (Though I highly recommend “Queenie” by Candice Carty-Williams, that excels in toughness, heart and humor.)
But I, too, like to look back and read older works. I’ve always enjoyed Iris Murdoch, who would probably be too wordy for people now. Also, the politically incorrect “Lolita” is one of my all-time faves. I look forward to discovering Truman Capote.
You’re welcome, Leslie. I tend to stay current in my reads these days as well. But I still pivot to the past on occasion. When I do, I always gain insights from older classics. Something about the more naturalistic (think that term fits) approach, especially of Southern writers, speaks to me. There’s probably a cultural connection too since my mother’s family has deep Appalachian roots.
I will have to check out Queenie! You are the second person who’s mentioned it to me recently. Funny coincidence, the dog in “A Christmas Memory” is named Queenie as well. Kind of random and neat at the same time ;). I will explore Iris Murdoch too. Thanks so much for the suggestions!
I recently bought a book at our library book sale for fifty cents. It was in the children’s book section and written by Capote. Wow, that had to be interesting, I thought. The book is called A Christmas Memory but in addition to that story, it includes “One Christmas” and “The Thanksgiving Visitor”. Each story includes Miss Sook and tells more about her and the narrator’s relationship. Their relationship touches deep into my soul. I will read this again and again.
Great piece about a great work. Thanks!
You know, I’ve known of the other two stories for a couple of years now; but my edition doesn’t include them – I have the ones tacked onto the end of Breakfast at Tiffany’s. I do think I have to read them, but somehow until now I haven’t wanted to spoil this particular one. Last night I was reading about how she is named in the others, but in this one she is simply referred to as “cousin” or “friend.” I liked both that and the fact that the narrator is simply called by her nickname for him – “Buddy”
Talk about making a story universal! :)
Great. Just great. Now I’m crying.
Sorry, Stacey!
Of course, I can’t make it through the close of “A Christmas Memory” without melting into a puddle. One of the commentaries I read in preparing this post was from an author who recalled their third grade teacher crying while reading it aloud to the class, and what an impression it made on them about the power of good story. I kept thinking, “that would be me.”
Lovely essay, John (as usual). It often happens to me, and has recently, that I read something and end up sitting back and going, “Damn. I’ll never write anything this beautiful.” And sometimes it gives me that ole’ “ah, what’s the use” feeling.
But, given time, I inevitably come around to being inspired (as you evidently are, and ably demonstrate here). I love the Hemingway quote you offer. It’s all about seeking the truth. And I like the idea of doing that one sentence at a time. It’s sort of offers me something I can do today, right now.
Btw, I’m embarrassed to admit I’ve never read Capote. You’ve provided a wonderful starting point. I definitely need a catch-up-with-the-classics period this winter. Thanks for the inspiration and the nudge. Onward!
Thanks, Vaughn. Yes, the Hemingway quote was from an earlier rendition of the post, when I had planned to include a couple of other examples. Suffice to say it just wasn’t coming together. But I loved the quote and thought it still fit.
I was tickled to hear that the context was Hemingway discussing his rituals for easing into writing each day. Apparently he found it important to start by putting on paper “one true thing.” I think that may be the best advice for writer’s block (don’t ask me why I need to know) that I’ve heard in a long, long time.
Strongly inspiring and beautifully expressed. Thank you, John!
Thank you, Thomas! Capote’s crisp writing is certainly an inspiration to me (and many others I’m sure).
Write On!
John, great stuff—I’ll have to check out the story, because it sounds like a Christmas gift. Sounds wistful and lovely, like James Joyce’s “The Dead.”
So, was Miss Sook the next-door neighbor of Harper Lee, who patterned the character Dill in To Kill a Mockingbird after Capote?
Thanks for a deft and touching read.
Thanks, Tom.
I don’t believe Sook represents any of the characters in To Kill a Mockingbird (I have pondered the connection as well). As I understand it, which could be wrong, I believe the neighbor in To Kill a Mockingbird was an aunt of Dill (Capote), where he would spend summers. Her name is Aunt Rachel in the book, but for the movie her character was merged with “Aunt Stephanie” (Stephanie being another neighbor in the novel).
It’s a bit hard to trace how that fits with Capote’s real life since he was, as explained in both stories, handed from family to family throughout his younger years. From what I can discern, I think the biographical parts of each story could easily overlap. I imagined – again, perhaps mistakenly – that most of the time he resided in the unnamed town of “A Christmas Memory,” living with Cousin Sook and nameless other relatives of the household … and in this story, they are indeed nameless, only appearing on occasion, usually to scold or belittle in some fashion though it’s clear they are the providers of the home. But as Dill was a ward of relatives other than his mother, I could imagine them sending him off to his aunt in Macomb each summer.
One other interesting anecdote in my readings for the post is that relatives had very mixed feelings about the stories involving Sook. I think they felt, perhaps with some justification, that they come off poorly, whereas Sook is placed on a pedestal. Personally, I think both may have a point. It seems clear to me, depending on how fictionalized these particular stories are, that Sook was his emotional touchstone as a child, whereas he saw – rightly or wrongly – the other family members in the household as distant.
It certainly makes you think about how children from broken families interpret their worlds, which is another strength of the stories he wrote.
PS — Yes, wistful is an apt description. And I never considered it and “The Dead” together, but they do share some common themes. It is another story that lingers with you long after you’ve read it (no matter how many times you read it).
I’ve been working on a memoir off and on for many years. Your piece today connects in one way–when I write about my childhood something takes over, the words feel compelling because it’s my life on the page. Maybe that is why the words of Capote’s story brings and elicits so much emotion. He is able to translate onto paper those feelings he had when with this person he loved so. And that could also translate to person’s we admired or feared or even were unable to see their importance as we grew. Just a guess.
I think you’re right, Beth. And the process of writing so deeply about one’s personal experiences probably awakens similar feelings (unresolved feelings?) in others.
In the post I was, perhaps clumsily, thinking of approaching any character with the same depth and tact. But perhaps it comes more naturally with memoirs. If so, it’s a good case for writing what you know, though I still believe similar thought processes can work, even for characters far outside our experience or comfort zone.
I hope your own efforts at writing memoir are proceeding well. My mom never wrote a full memoir, and really can’t at this point given her condition. But she did over the years write several anecdotes – memories of her childhood, etc. I’ve scanned any that I’ve come across and treasure them. It’s a beautiful gift to those who come into this world later.
Be well.
Brilliant!!! I am printing this piece out to remind me. You say you keep “A Christmas Memory” as a touchstone. On my desk is Jim Harrison’s Legends of the Fall — the novella by the same name is one of 3 shorts in the book. I feel much the same about that as you do about Capote. Let me know if you read Legends of the Fall! I will pick up the Capote collection on Monday. Oh, and almost forgot, someone above mentioned James Joyce’s The Dead — another amazing example!! Great essay!!
Thanks, Luna! I have not read Legends of the Fall, but just ordered a copy. I’ve been meaning to read some of Jim Harrison’s writings for a while now, and have been interested in short fiction more recently.
I grew up loving short stories. But like a lot of folks, I eventually starting reading more novels and eventually stopped seeking out short stories. It’s been nice rediscovering short fiction again over the past year.