"Truman Capote lives in a big yellow house in Brooklyn Heights, which he has recently restored with the taste and elegance that is generally characteristic of his undertakings. As I entered he was head and shoulders inside a newly arrived crate containing a wooden lion.
“There!” he cried as he tugged it out to a fine birth amid a welter of sawdust and shavings. “Did you ever see anything so splendid? Well, that’s that. I saw him and I bought him. Now he’s all mine.”
“He’s large,” I said. “Where are you going to put him?”
“Why, in the fireplace, of course,” said Capote. “Now come along into the parlor while I get someone to clear away this mess.”
The parlor is Victorian in character and contains Capote’s most intimate collection of art objects and personal treasures, which, for all their orderly arrangement on polished tables and bamboo bookcases, somehow remind you of the contents of a very astute little boy’s pockets. There is, for instance, a golden Easter egg brought back from Russia, an iron dog, somewhat the worse for wear, a Fabergé pillbox, some marbles, blue ceramic fruit, paperweights, Battersea boxes, picture postcards, and old photographs. In short everything that might seem useful or handy in a day’s adventuring around the world..."
Excerpt from a 1955 interview with Capote as published in The Paris Review. Read the interview in full here.
(photo of Capote's home via)