In Cold Blood: An Appreciation

A few days ago I finished reading Truman Capote's 'In Cold Blood' and since then I have wanted to get down my thoughts about why this was such a captivating read.

First off, there is the assured style of the narrative, right from the first line:

The village of Holcomb stands on the high wheat plains of western Kansas, a lonesome area that other Kansans call "out there."

For me, that line exudes authority. You get an immediate sense that Capote is in control, that he knows what he's talking about, and that you can trust what follows. The authorial confidence allows Capote to leisurely spend the majority of those first three pages describing Holcomb, and only delivering the hook right at the end: that this unassuming town will be the scene of a night of brutal, seemingly senseless murders.

For an amateur writer, trying his hand primarily at short fiction, the detachment of the voice is interesting. This isn't the POV of any character. This is the POV of an omniscient narrator, or rather, a journalist; the style is very much of the type found in investigative journalism---and it works.

Secondly, the characterisation, is masterful. Consider the following passage where we first meet one of the two murderers:

Like Mr. Clutter, the young man, breakfasting in a cafe called the Little Jewel never drank coffee. He preferred root beer. Three aspirin, cold root beer, and a chain of Pall Mall cigarettes---that was his notion of a proper "chow-down."

In just three lines we already have a vivid, bold outline of the man. A man who prefers root beer to coffee, indicating a man who has not yet matured into a real adult. The dependence on aspirin, indicating a life of real, or perhaps imagined, pains. And lastly a chain smoker---always a sign of nervousness, of lack of control. And that last detail! A "chow-down". What a wonderful phrase---this is certainly not a man with obligations to work, family, or country---a man who can't even regulate his eating habits.

Maybe Capote had it easy: these weren't mental fabrications. These were real people, and they acted as they were. How could they do anything but? Still, the particular details he uses to sketch a character, situation, or place are always illuminating, and never boring or incidental.

With regards to the dynamic power of the novel---the element of the tale that makes it a page-turner---Capote employs an unusual device at odds with the run-of-the-mill whodunnit. Capote names the killers within the first fifteen pages. The engine that drives the readers curiousity is not the mystery of the murderer's identities. There are no conventional clues for the keen reader to spot. The mystery derives from understanding the killer's motivations. We pinball between the family members on their last day, friends, the killers, and then the detectives brought in.

For me, the driving force is the relationship between the two killers, and the insight into the procedural process as the noose draws close. In choosing this structure, Capote greatly elevates this above a piece of cheap genre fiction. Through the killer's meandering adventures after the murders we see their humanity, see their frailties, and see the way they are in no sense 'evil' in a biblical or one-dimensional way. Through the detective's work we have a mirror onto society's feelings about such men, how inadequate the response is, and how society itself is as much to blame as the men. The tapestry of narrative POVs---including a pair of tom-cats in one scene!---allows us to see the whole story and draw our own conclusions about responsibilities and consequences.