This is a sensitive and intricate rendering of a life memory--a story Capote has carried with him throughout his whole life. A memoir, the book recounts Capote's memories of one special holiday Christmas, spent with his elderly cousin whom he lived with "as long as I can remember." The young Capote refers to his cousin as "my friend", and she, in turn, calls him "Buddy". Their relationship is whole enduring; it transcends vast differences of age and circumstance. The young Truman had a future ahead of him; one that was largely defined for him by the nondescript swarm of "relatives" that also inhabit the house. His cousin is an old woman, looked upon as senile, but exceedingly sharp in her observations and sincere in her intentions.
The two of them are giddy with excitement on Christmas Eve, all with the expectation of one another's homemade presents. Their days are spent in companionable isolation, searching out a Christmas tree in the depths of the woods, baking fruitcakes to send off to the President, and flying kites."My friend is shy with everyone except strangers," the author observes. This book is rife with such well-parceled observations, but beneath its eloquent sentences and stylistic packaging, it is a simple story about the wonders of life and the wonders of Christmas.
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