3.5 stars.
Quite short but overall an okay read. I liked the writing style and would definitely want to read Capote’s other works.

" ... around them they made a clear lovely light: it was as if, out of their ordinary stone, their massive unshaped selves, something precious had been set free, a figure musical and pure..."

Summer Crossings was written before Capote's first published book, Other Voices, Other Rooms. The manuscript was discovered postmortem when Sotheby's received never before published papers and a manuscript from the nephew of Capote's previous house sitters. Sotheby's informed the Truman Capote Literary Trust that Truman had instructed the house sitter that he wouldn't be returning to the apartment and to throw all his remaining possessions in the trash. It's uncertain whether TC wanted the novella published (in my mind if he wanted it thrown in the trash the answer seems clear).

Although it's a novella, it took me a bit to embrace, but it crept in and made itself at home. As I was reading I kept thinking of Breakfast at Tiffany's. The understated strength? It ended unexpectedly, which like any good work of literature, makes you linger and think. long after the characters are gone.

"E o senzaţie magică să poţi urmări persoana iubită dormind, inconştient că e privit, eliberat de sub orice control, îţi dă impresia, preţ de un dulce moment, că-i ţii inima în mână ; vulnerabil, oricât ar părea de iraţional, în clipele acelea este tot ce-ai crezut tu cândva că este . bărbatul pur, tandru ca un copil."

”Când schimbăm marca țigărilor pe care le fumăm, când ne mutăm în alt cartier, când ne abonăm la alt ziar, când ne îndrăgostim sau punem punct unei legături, nu facem decât să protestăm, în felurite chipuri, ușuratice sau profunde, împotriva monotoniei, cu neputință de nediluat, a vieții de zi cu zi. Din nefericire, toate oglinzile sunt la fel de trădătoare și, la un anumit punct al noii aventuri, reflectă acceași față vană și nesatisfăcută; și, de obicei, când te întrebi 'ce-am făcut?', îți spui de fapt, 'ce fac?”

‘“You are a mystery, my dear,” her mother said, and Grady, gazing across the table through a centrepiece of roses and fern, smiled indulgently; yes, I am a mystery, and it pleased her to think so.’

4.5 stars

This heady summertime novella is the first work from Truman Capote I’ve read but I can’t imagine it being my last. June afternoons and books set in the stifling haze of vintage American summers are a perfect match to me, and I’m glad I chose to finally pick up one of the three novels on my shelf with the word ‘summer’ in the title instead of decreeing that I’ll read them and yet, suddenly, it’s September once again.

Summer Crossing was a lost manuscript never published in Capote’s lifetime, and while it isn’t breaking any new ground or reinventing the wheel his style is so lyrical, visceral and so enrapturing that at times the actual plot of the novel felt almost irrelevant as I soaked up the beauty of his mesmerising style. It truly strikes what I’d consider the perfect balance of a distinct, accessible yet memorable and charming style that somehow made the well-trod concept of a NYC summer feel like no one else had quite understood it fully.

This isn’t really a novel about characters, as thin as the plot may be, it’s a novel of feeling, a sense of place, the loss of time you didn’t even realise was passing. Delicate from the first and with a pervading sense of sadness throughout, the reckless and fierce decisions and feelings of this novel are both familiar and wholly unknowable concurrently, making for pretty little wistful story.

It’s far from perfect but the irresistible charm of this novel had me convinced I’d rate this 5 stars, if not for the abrupt and frankly unsatisfying ending. (I know goodreads doesn’t have half star ratings so indulge me alright). In truth, I think this would have worked better had it been longer, but as it stands Summer Crossing was still well worth the trip back to a New York City ‘40s heatwave.

//Truman Capote’s style is a lyrical dream but wow am I unsure about that ending

DNF. Good writing but I was bored out of my mind. I just could not care enough for spoiled brat Grady so whatever disaster she was about to ensue on and the consequences thereof had no effect on me.

I can see why this was not published until well after Truman Capote’s death as it is not either a particularly good or enjoyable read.

3.5

This is a nice short character study of a novel. Just like Capote's other works, it impeccably well written. Since this book is about the characters, not much really happens in it (until the end), so there's not much to say. I enjoyed it.

Πέμπτο βιβλίο του Τρούμαν Καπότε που διαβάζω και δηλώνω για άλλη μια φορά αρκούντως ικανοποιημένος. Απ'όσο ξέρω αυτό είναι το πρώτο του πραγματικό μυθιστόρημα που έγραψε σε νεαρή ηλικία, αλλά έτυχε να εκδοθεί πολλά χρόνια μετά τον θάνατό του, μιας και είτε δεν ήθελε να εκδοθεί είτε απλώς το... ξέχασε κάπου παρατημένο. Λοιπόν, είναι ένα μικρό μυθιστόρημα με κάποιες αδυναμίες και σίγουρα δεν είναι για όλα τα γούστα, όμως η όλη ατμόσφαιρα της παλιάς εποχής, το σκηνικό της Νέας Υόρκης, η ώριμη και σε σημεία λυρική γραφή, είναι στοιχεία που με με ικανοποίησαν σε μεγάλο βαθμό. Ας πούμε ότι κάτι στον τρόπο που περιγράφει σκηνικά και καταστάσεις, κάτι στους ανθρώπινους και φυσικούς διαλόγους, κάτι στους χαρακτήρες του, ταιριάζει με τα γούστα μου. Γενικά μου αρέσει να διαβάζω ιστορίες του Τρούμαν Καπότε, ακόμα και αν αυτές είναι απλές από άποψη πλοκής.

I am in awe of Truman Capote's first output. His dynamic prose in its infancy, already carving a groove into the public consciousness. The honing of a voice on paper, as distinct as its audible counterpart. Nevertheless, a glimpse into a mind that will eventually put Audrey Hepburn on a fire escape, singing to herself and millions. Even the viciousness of In Cold Blood makes an appearance, almost word for word: "Toward midafternoon, as the heat closed in like hand over a murder victim's mouth.". A vivid simile that Capote will reuse to describe the fragility of Bonnie Clutter's mental state: "When she opened it, the heat gathered inside the room was like a sudden, awful hand over her mouth" -In Cold Blood. This is simply the portal to his world. The world of one of the most compelling figures of the 20th century.

And he takes you there, through the lives of two wayward trainwrecks: one a darling socialite and the other, a street-savvy parking lot attendant from Brooklyn. The nested stories that fall out of these characters are engrossing and morally provocative. Settings are literally bursting with detail, scantily dressed with metaphors for optimum attention. This is New York City hot off WWII, pumped with hope and matrimonial vigor. Characters are fleshed out and prodded, made to make readers hate and love. I couldn't help thinking about Steinbeck's defense of the margins of society. People with limited education, showing empathy in ways you couldn't teach. Please, do yourself a favor and read a posthumous offering, from a true maverick.

Роман служит прекрасной иллюстрацией к тому, что, раз автор не хотел публиковаться, значит, у него были причины.

Текст очень и очень слабый, вот прямо видно, что это черновик. Местами попадаются очень хорошие, ограненные абзацы, а за ними - опять мелодрама и скелет из клише. Герои не прописаны, а просто вбухнуты в текст кусками. Их поступки текстом романа не мотивированы никак. Симпатичная девочка из богатой семьи, которой мама предположительно везет из Парижа невиданной красоты платье дебютантки, влюбляется в парковщика, ветерана войны, а потом оказывается, что и еврея, ай-яй-яй, что скажет семья. Какой-то ворох драматических деталей про обоих никак не связывает этих двух людей между собой, нет никаких оснований для любви и интриги. С чего вдруг они полюбили друг друга? Даже используя популярную теорию про противоположности, их роман выглядит натужно и нелепо. Самый цельный персонаж - Питер, девушкин друг детства, про которого есть примерно три абзаца - ярких, остроумных, красивых три абзаца.

Что касается языка - иногда в тексте проскальзывают хорошие куски, но их очень мало, в основном - мелодрама и высокопарные фразы с загадочным смыслом. Вот даже это «Нельзя бросить другого человека — бросить можно только себя» - оно что вообще означает? Паоло Коэльо заплакал от зависти.

В общем, теперь всем молодым авторам, наверное, должно быть понятно, что без труда и переписывания хорошего текста не получится (и к чести Капоте, сам-то он видел, что текст "thin, clever, unfelt"), а публиковать случайно найденное можно, только если вы порылись в ящиках у Сэлинджера, который даже в стол, говорят, писал не навскидку.

What. The. Eff. Was that.

The writing was pretty decent; confusing sometimes but written in a unique voice that made it work. The content, however, was questionable. The ideas are solid and touched on eloquently here and there but this is too short a story to reveal any decent substance.

That being said, I didn't hate it. Just the ending. I'm still trying to make sense of it.

...

Which, I suppose, is the mark of a great novel?? That it has you thinking about it constantly after reading?

Honestly, though. WTF.