The unnamed narrator is looking back a few
years to the early 1940s when, newly arrived in New York, he moved into an
apartment block and was intrigued by the mail box label for Apartment 2 which
declares “Miss Holiday Golightly, Traveling”.
The name and the voice on the stairs soon
take form in the delightful Holly – petit, short hair, dark glasses perched on
up-turned nose, and chic little black dress (in other words Audrey Hepburn) –
and he is smitten by the kitten. As other neighbours tire of her charms in the
wake of her late night parties, that she either hosts or returns from keyless
and demanding entry to the block from anyone she can rouse, he is more than
happy to step up to the plate.
Is she just a good time girl, a gold-digger,
or something more professional? What is her background? What’s behind her
weekly visits to Sally Tomato imprisoned in Sing Sing? The more she reveals the
more the less sense it makes.
Told mainly in snappy New York dialogue it’s
an engaging portrait of a free spirit in single minded pursuit of the good
life, epitomised by having breakfast at Tiffany’s among the diamonds and the
rich smells of alligator wallets and silver.
The narrator is not in that league so he
shouldn’t have a chance with Holly; but he’s on hand when her fragile
confection of a world looks in danger of collapsing.
Little more than a novella in length and
format it makes an excellent quick read.
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