De esta compilación te puede interesar, conmover, impactar, divertir algún relato más que otro, pero no se puede discutir la excelencia de cada uno de ellos. Muy recomendable.

He leído estos cuentos a lo largo de un extenso periodo y los he acabado recientemente. Lo malo de haber ido espaciando su lectura es que, a la hora de ponerme a hacer una reseña, no tengo en la cabeza tantos datos, ni las ideas tan frescas respecto de muchos de los cuentos.

Sin embargo sí tengo clara mi impresión general de que Capote es un grandísimo escritor, capaz de transmitir la atmósfera de las localidades sureñas de Estados Unidos de manera muy personal y sutil, destacando cierto tono gótico, misterioso y un poco perverso en algunas de las narraciones. Pero no es éste el único contexto de estos cuentos, Nueva York y cierta sociedad elegante y moderna también aparece magistralmente retratada.

Igualmente es un agudísimo observador de la conducta humana y a menudo sus personajes quedan perfectamente individualizados con un par de frases. Las voces de todos ellos son siempre auténticas y su dominio del diálogo magistral. Pero, una de las cosas más extraordinarias para mí es que su ojo puede ser a la vez cáustico y compasivo.

En ocasiones, las historias acaban de un modo que proyecta una interpretación diferente sobre todo lo anterior y hay temas que se repiten, como el de la estrecha relación de un niño huérfano o similar con una pariente mayor, o incluso anciana, considerada alguien marginal en la familia y que constituye todo su mundo.

Realmente me habría hecho falta tomar notas para poder ilustrar todo esto con los maravillosos ejemplos de que está llena esta colección: ejemplos de poesía, de humor, de inteligencia... Como ocurre en la obra de todo maestro.

Some of the stories were 3 star for me, like "Miriam"- which is too Poe-like gimmicky. But overall, and I am an impossible audience for short stories on the whole, I did like these. There is, for me with Capote- an often felt mood that belies some of the jolly words or situations of mirth. Rather partially that of an "outsider looking in" or nervous energy angst toward eventual rejection to the norms? Or a sense of bizarre meanness that's too easily understood? It parses out in the end to connote humility of a sort coming from the author, although the described manner and style of the same "eyes" is anything but humble.

His is a distinct personality imbedded in his works to a much larger degree than most successful writers, IMHO. His life story still seems remarkably sad, a real waste.

Este es el autor favorito de uno de mis mejores amigos y lleva años insistiéndome en leerlo, nunca pude encontrar "A sangre fría" pero conseguí este libro en un mercadillo y debo decir que la saca del estadio... ahora buscando mas del autor.

Video reseño en:

https://www.instagram.com/p/CAJBBicg3kN/

Monroeville, AL has this mural with a big mockingbird on it that says, "The Home of Harper Lee". Where's the mural for Truman Capote?

Un vaso di geranio cadde e le ragazze raccolsero i fiori e se li infilarono dietro l'orecchio. Sullo xilofono del marciapiede tintinnarono lo scalpiccio confuso di piedi in corsa, le gocce di pioggia: le porte sbattevano, le finestre si chiudevano, poi solo il silenzio, e pioggia. Allora, a passi leggeri, lei si avvicinò al lampione e si mise accanto a lui, e fu come se il cielo fosse uno specchio schiantato dal tuono, perché la pioggia cadeva tra loro come una cortina di vetri infranti.

Truman Capote, "Il falco senza testa"
(La forma delle cose, pp. 108-136)

I thought that the beginning stories were too much like Flannery O'conner (who I like but not when I am wanting to read Truman Capote). As I kept reading the book I found that the later stories were trademark Capote and I loved them! Very southern gothic.

Αγαπημένα και αλησμόνητα: Ένα Δέντρο από νύχτα και Ένα Σπίτι από Λουλούδια...

Capote's short stories are well worth the read. I had already read "In Cold Blood" but never any of his fictional work, but he is excellent at both. They are not as ambiguous as J.D. Salinger's short stories and that is why I preferred them - they have a beginning, middle and an end, and they are just as well-written. He conveys the feel of New York through many of his stories, which is why they remind me of Salinger sometimes, but he also has many stories which take place in the south and those seem to me more personal and full of life. The stories which pertained to his childhood with Miss Sook and his other relatives as well as Queenie the dog were the most touching, to me, and they show what a sad childhood he had, although Miss Sook was certainly a ray of sunshine and warmth during that time. He has a very dark side, as can be seen from certain stories like "The Headless Hawk" and "Miriam," so I can see why he was able to write "In Cold Blood" so well. The edition I read had an introduction by Reynolds Price and that was the only part of the book I disliked, as I got the feeling that Price didn't really think Capote was that great of a writer and instead of celebrating him in the introduction I felt like he mostly pointed out Capote's faults. It just seemed like an introduction should be written by someone who really truly appreciates the writer, not just someone with credentials. True, Capote's life was very sad and his demise into drugs and alcohol was a terrible end to his life, but he was a great writer and in this circumstance his works should be celebrated rather than focusing so much on the negativity.
I feel that Capote is one of those great American authors who doesn't always get his due nowadays and this is a big mistake. His writing is rich and his stories are engaging, his characters are interesting and he has a great way of carrying a story along.

Μου άρεσε αρκετά η γραφή του Τρούμαν Καπότε, ενώ κάποια από τα διηγήματά του θα μπορούσα να τα αποκαλέσω αριστουργήματα.

"Тези разкази може и да сте ги чели. Кратката проза на Труман Капоти не излиза за първи път на български език, но предимството е, че в тази книга е събрано почти всичко. А това позволява да се проследи развитието на Капоти като разказвач – от автор, който е внимателен към детайлите и създава поетични метафори, до стегнатото журналистическо писане, с което го свързваме и днес. Историите са подредени хронологично – от първия разказ, „Стените са студени“, написан още през 1943 г., когато Капоти е на 19 години, до последния – автобиографичния „Една Коледа“, завършен през 1982, две години преди смъртта на писателя.

truman1И въпреки че Капоти е познат предимно с романите си „Хладнокръвно“ и „Закуска в Тифани“, разказите му също са висока топка. Най-вероятно самият той си е давал сметка за това, защото в едно интервю от 1957 г. казва, че краткият разказ му се струва най-трудната и дисциплинираща форма, която съществува.

Сборникът „Събрани разкази“ е добър повод да видим как Капоти се справя с дисциплината. Тук са включени всичко на всичко 20 истории – 19-те разказа от „Дървото на нощта“ (сборника, издаден на български език през 2009) плюс „Мохаве“, преведен от Димитри Иванов. Включително и онзи разказ от 1947 г., „Затвори една последна врата“, за който 24-годишният Труман Капоти получава през 1948 г. наградата за кратка проза О’Хенри.

Затова и не е някаква кой знае каква изненада, че ранният Капоти е безупречен стилист, а първите му разкази не отстъпват на онези, които създава през 70-те и 80-те години. Писателят е все така наблюдателен, успява да влезе под кожата на героите си и да създаде атмосфера, която е на границата между обикновеното и фантастичното. Капоти успява само с дума или жест на героите си да превърне баналното в изключително. Успява да превърне децата във възрастни, а възрастните в деца, така както кара възрастния затворник от разказа „Китара с диаманти“ да дялка дървени кукли. Подобно на десетгодишната госпожица Бобит от разказа „Децата на рождените им дни“, която с някаква свръхестествена сила подчинява останалите, или като дванайсетгодишния Апълсийд, който успява да преброи монетите в едно стъклено шише само с дълго взиране. Възрастните при Капоти също не са загубили способността си да бъдат деца – като възрастната госпожица Сук от „Гостът за Деня на благодарността“, която умее да вижда в хризантемите лъвове и по детски наивно да се опитва да подреди света.

Иначе тези разкази трудно се поддават на описания – едни от тях са автобиографични, други приличат на мистични приказки, има и коледни разкази, но всичките са написали с уважение към героите, без страх да се навлиза в психологически дълбочини. А сигурно това е тайната как да се създават герои, които дълго се помнят – като момичето, което продава сънищата си, като онова шестгодишно момче, което пътува само в автобуса за Алабама заедно с огромен самолет, или като Отили, най-щастливото момиче в Порт-о-Пренс, което няма нищо против любимият й да я върже за дървото."

РЕЦЕНЗИЯ НА ОЛЯ СТОЯНОВА В ПОРТАЛ КУЛТУРА ОТ 03.09 2015

http://kultura.bg/web/всички-разкази-...

I really enjoy Truman Capote’s writing — hi stories, his paragraphs and his sentences, his images and insights. Here are some snippets:

“It was as if she were a child to whom he handed a balloon that kept swelling until it swept her upward, danced her along with just her toes now and then touching the ground.” From Among the Paths to Eden.

“He stood there whispering the names of the evening stars as they opened in flower above him. The stars were his pleasure, but tonight they did not comfort him; they did not make him remember that what happens to us on earth is lost in the endless shine of eternity.” From A Diamond Guitar.

“...of all things this was the saddest, that life goes on: if one leaves one’s lover, life should stop for him, and if one disappears from the world, then the world should stop , too; and it never did. And that was the real reason for most people getting up in the morning; not because it would matter but because it wouldn’t.” From Master Misery.

This next paragraph took me on a journey with an ending I would never have predicted and made me laugh.

“Now the problem of love concerned him, mainly because he did not consider it a problem. Nevertheless, he was conscious of being unloved. This knowledge was like an extra heart beating inside him. But there was no one. Anna, perhaps. Did Anna love him? ‘Oh,’ said Anna, ‘when was anything ever what it seemed to be? Now it’s a tadpole, now it’s a frog. It looks like gold but you put it on your finger and it leaves a green ring. Take my second husband: he looked like a nice guy, and turned out to be just another heel. Look around every room: why, you couldn’t burn incense in that fireplace, and those mirrors, they give space, they tell a lie. Nothing, Walter, is ever what it seems to be. Christmas trees are cellophane, and snow is only soap chips. Flying around inside us is something called the Soul, and when you die you’re never dead; yes, and when we’re alive we’re never alive. And you want to know if I love you? Don’t be dumb, Walter, we’re not even friends...’”

Who writes like this! Capote.

I am giving this collection a five star rating. Perhaps should be 4.5, with just a few points off because there were a few stories that didn’t seem quite as good as the others. But that is being a bit picky. If the problem of love was concerning to Capote, then an answer for him could be that there are plenty of readers who do. I am one!