The Books: “Answered Prayers: The Unfinished Novel” (Truman Capote)

Daily Book Excerpt: Adult fiction:

Answered Prayers – by Truman Capote. This is the notorious book that sunk Truman. It was unfinished. He was always threatening to publish the rest of it – and made hints, publicly, that he was working on it. But at the time of his death, no manuscript was found. To people who knew him and his pack-rat ways, this was very suspicious. Capote probably was making those public statements to either bolster himself up, or try to create some buzz, or maybe because “if you say it, it’s so” … His writer’s block was a torment. He completely lost the ease of his prose as a young man. The last years of his life were horrific, in terms of loneliness and loss of work. The publication of one of the chapters of Capote’s new novel was like a bomb that went off through high society, the circle in which Capote thrived. “La Cote Basque” is the name of the chapter – and it was highly anticipated. The author of In Cold Blood! His new novel! It was very exciting. Anyway, I won’t go into what happened when “La Cote Basque” came out – but it’s a fascinating story, one of the huge literary dust-ups of our time. It ruined Truman Capote’s life – and it took him a while to fully realize the impact. Entire groups of people took him off their address books. He had been a staple at their parties and yacht outings – he was beloved. As a pet, sure – as a witty bitchy person to have around … and in one fell swoop, all of that was done. Many of his friends never spoke to him again. It was a devastating blow to Capote and he never really recovered. He tried to plead his case – “I’m a writer! What did they think I was doing all that time at their parties? I was observing them, taking note – I’m a writer!” Yeah, well, “they” did not like it. Every door in New York closed to Capote practically overnight.

The three chapters of the unfinished novel have been published under the name “Answered Prayers”. Capote had always hinted that this was going to be his greatest book. And when you read it – I don’t know, it makes me sad. In no way, shape or form would this ever be considered his “greatest” book – and so his words, to me, seem desperate, like he’s trying to imagine himself back into the groove he once had. But so much has been lost. The writing of In Cold Blood sapped him of strength, perhaps forever. He was never the same again after it. I don’t know, I’m such a fan of Capote’s stuff, I’d read a grocery list written by him … but “Answered Prayers” is too bitchy – he has lost ALL the heart in his work. And my God, what heart he has. A Grass Harp, Christmas Memory, Other Voices, Other Rooms … what a beautiful human heart he has. None of it is in evidence in the three chapters of “Answered Prayers”. What I get from his writing here – is that he is angry, he has a bone to pick with the wealthy elite (even though they invited him into their circles) – and he his going to show them to themselves. He is going to unmask them. He is going to say, in the bitchiest tone possible, “You thought a book written about you would be flattering – but that is only because you are so vain, so empty inside – So here. Here is what I REALLY think of you.” Capote can plead his innocence all he wants – that’s what he’s doing here. And the readers recognized themselves – he told their secrets, amped up what they whispered to each other, he named names – He used pseudonyms (but not always – the book is also a big name-dropping extravaganza) but with enough detail that identities were unmistakable. Infidelities, impotence, possible murder, shallow, whatever – he revealed it all here. Every single person in this book is heinous.

So I wonder. Oh, Truman. What happened.

Gerald Clarke’s biography of Truman Capote is a masterpiece of the genre and I highly recommend it to anyone interested in Capote. The chapters on the publication of “La Cote Basque” and the fallout afterwards are great – tons of details and quotes and context given. I’m just sketching it in here.

Here’s an excerpt from the “La Cote Basque” chapter.

Excerpt from Answered Prayers – by Truman Capote.

Mrs. Matthau and Mrs. Cooper lingered over cafe filtre. “I know,” mused Mrs. Matthau, who was analyzing the wife of a midnight-TV clown/hero, “Jane is pushy: all those telephone calls – Christ, she could dial Answer Prayer and talk an hour. But she’s bright, she’s fast on the draw, and when you think what she has to put up with. This last episode she told me about: hair-raising. Well, Bobby had a week off from the show – he was so exhausted he told Jane he wanted just to stay home, spend the whole week slopping around in his pajamas, and Jane was ecstatic; she bought hundreds of magazines and books and new LP’s and every kind of goody from Maison Glass. Oh, it was going to be a lovely week. Just Jane and Bobby sleeping and screwing and having baked potatoes with caviar for breakfast. But after one day he evaporated. Didn’t come home night or call. It wasn’t the first time, Jesus be, but Jane was out of her mind. Still, she couldn’t report it to the police; what a sensation that would be. Another day passed, and not a word. Jane hadn’t slept for forty-eight hours. Around three in the morning the phone rang. Bobby. Smashed. She said: ‘My God, Bobby, where are you?’ He said he was in Miami, and she said, losing her temper now, how the fuck did you get in Miami, and he said, oh, he’d gone to the airport and taken a plane, and she said what the fuck for, and he said just because he felt like being alone. Jane said: ‘And are you alone?’ Bobby, you know what a sadist he is behind that huckleberry grin, said: ‘No. There’s someone lying right here. She’d like to speak to you.’ And on comes this scared little giggling peroxide voice: ‘Really, is this really Mrs. Baxter, hee hee? I thought Bobby was making a funny, hee hee. We just heard on the radio how it was snowing there in New York – I mean, you ought to be down here with us where it’s ninety degrees!’ Jane said, very chiseled: ‘I’m afraid I’m much too ill to travel.’ And peroxide, all fluttery, distress: ‘Oh, gee, I’m sorry to hear that. What’s the matter, honey?’ Jane said: ‘I’ve got a double dose of syph and the old clap-clap, all courtesy of that great comic, my husband, Bobby Baxter – and if you don’t want the same, I suggest you get the hell out of there.’ And she hung up.”

Mrs. Cooper was amused, though not very; puzzled, rather. “How can any woman tolerate that? I’d divorce him.”

“Of course you would. But then, you’ve got the two things Jane hasn’t.”

“Ah?”

“One; dough. And two: identity.”