I have never seen the movie Capote. I suppose I should. Honestly, I had never heard of Truman Capote until the movie came out in 2005. Now my children are reading In Cold Blood as part of their high school curriculum. Perhaps the difference is the time. In the late 80’s, early 90’s when I went through high school myself, maybe enough time had not passed for the 1966 novel to be considered worthy. Perhaps that it failed to win the Pulitzer where it’s contemporary To Kill a Mockingbird did and, was required reading when I was in high school. 

(As an aside and interesting coincidence – I learned that Capote and Harper Lee were best friends. Moreover, Lee went to Holcomb with Capote to help him research the Cutter murders. But I get ahead of myself.)  

Anywho. Once In Cold Blood found its way on to my children’s high school reading list, it, as many of those titles do, found its way onto my TBR. YA is not my favorite genre. It is tough sometimes to get interested in what the kids are reading. Therefore, when their reading lists for their various English classes come out, I try to make sure I read those with them.  

In Cold Blood took me two children to get through.  

Three years ago the book popped on a reading list. Capote had been the subject of a movie. The book was a true crime story. The first kid to read it seemed fairly interested. I ordered my own copy, placed it in the spot of honor by the bubbles for the tub, poured a glass of wine, and sunk deep into the hot water.  

I made it through roughly 50 pages. I wouldn’t pick it back up again until this year when it ended up on another kid’s reading list. 

“Mom, you’ve read that one, right?” Yeah, no. I started it, but I just couldn’t get through it. I found the beginning boring. It was lyrically written, which I enjoy, but repetitive and indulgent. I found myself unsure about what to say; my kid had to read it and I did not want to be discouraging.  

But I did want to be honest. Now that I have a few college English classes under my belt, I have a different view on required reading, open response discussion, and academia in general. If my kid didn’t like the book, I wanted her to feel free to express that so she can move on to the more important point – being able to explain her opinion on the work. If she did, I wanted her to feel free to disagree with me – and again, move on to the more important point. 

“I started it, but honestly, I didn’t get through much of it.” 

“Really? I mean, I know you don’t like all that violence and stuff,” (she was there through the Hunger Games debacle) “but I didn’t think this one was all that bad.” 

“You’re right, I don’t. But it wasn’t that. I just found the beginning kind of boring.” 

“Oh. Yeah. I get that. I felt the same way. But it gets better. You should try again.” 

So, I tried again – eventually. Her class was finished with both the reading and the discussion by the time I got around to it. But whatever, I got around to it.  

Now I can say that I have read it, as much good as that does. I think it was worth the read, but I am confused why high school students are required to read it.  

Quick synopsis – The entire Cutter family is murdered. Their small town is shocked as that kind of thing never happens there and definitely not to such a good, prominent family. The murders are Richard “Dick” Hickock and Perry Smith. This is not a spoiler by the way; it is obvious from the very beginning as suspense is not an intended characteristic of the book. The book covers the crime, the investigation, and the trial with personal epithets filled in along the way.  

The book is billed as a nonfiction work. I think that is a stretch. While I am certain it is mostly true and have little to go on except how I felt reading it, I find it impossible to believe the insights expressed by Capote are knowable to him. I think the book is more accurately described as semi-nonfiction, or semi-fiction. Either way, I think the difference between the expectation and what I got altered the reading for me. Instead of being able to either enjoy the story on its writing merits, or enjoy the story based on its informative value, I was able to neither as I felt forced back and forth between the two.  

There are more sinister undertones that I won’t get into in case you haven’t read it, except to say this: It is weird reading a supposed nonfiction work written by an author who seems to be affecting the story along the way in order to facilitate the story he wants to write instead of writing the story that is.  

I understand that I am probably in the minority here. The book repeatedly receives high marks and glowing reviews. Honestly, I get it. Capote is a gifted writer and storyteller. This one just wasn’t for me.