he was pretending to be such a friend of mine, and living in my house, and I was so generous to him in every way. And all the time, months before the book came out, he was plotting this attack on me, for no reason, except what he was going to get out of it.
Says Capote, a writer who regularly ingratiated himself with people of all classes and stations and then betrayed their confidence in print for literary fame. Strange that a man of letters uses the word “hypocrisy” while apparently not knowing it’s meaning.
The curse did not take, in my opinion. I thought Answered Prayers quite a good book, moving & personal & written with Capote’s usual breathtaking technique. Writers always use the people around them for material. Both writers produced their share of great & not-so-great works.
Burroughs was high as a Georgia pine tree when he wrote that, guarantee it.
That’s the first thing I thought, too.
They both seem like assholes.
I read Andy Warhol’s Diaries, and Capote treated him like shit.
A friend gave me a copy of the book Beat Hotel, about the Beats’ time staying in a (literally) shitty bldg in Paris, and their fellow Beat visitors. I was astounded by how badly they treated one another and especially their female partners, many of whom were better artists/writers.
Wait—which of these guys never wrote anything good again?
Take your pick?
Seems like a very rational thing to be doing. At least he’s not shooting Capote through the head while reenacting a William Tell performance.
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