Truman Capote’s short novel Breakfast at Tiffany’s, told through the eyes of a young writer, is really the story of Holly Golightly. Holly is a walking contradiction, and her mystery only increases with the numbers on the pages. She seems to know nothing about the world, yet she always seems to be one step ahead, knowing just what to say and how to act. She is a phony, but a real phony.

Holly Golightly is a cross between a grown-up Lolita and a teenage Auntie Mame. A wacky ex-hillbilly who lives in an Manhattan brownstone, she is an expense-account tramp “alone and a little afraid in a lot of beds she never made.”

Much like her nameless cat, Holly seems to be just passing through, not belonging anywhere or to anyone. Her apartment, in which she has lived for almost a year, has no furniture, only suitcases and crates, and the cat which she claims does not belong to her (they just found each other by the river), so she doesn’t have the right to name it. But it is with a smile on her face and dark sunglasses that Holly faces a money-fueled world of slobs, rats and cats with no names.

Since it is one of my favorite movies, I figured the book couldn’t be bad (though I doubted it would be as good). To my surprise, I couldn’t put it down. It was very different from the movie, actually better. When I wasn’t reading it, I found myself wondering what would happen next: Would Holly and the narrator ever make up after their fight? Would the narrator realize he loved her? Would they end up together? I had to keep reading to find out.

I recommend this book to anyone. The characters are complex and believable. You instantly fall in love with them, as well as with Capote’s writing. I urge anyone looking for a good book to read Breakfast at Tiffany’s.