I’m with the Banned

For Banned Books Week I was asked to write about a banned book — one that influenced me growing up. As someone who’s been gaga over horses since childhood, the obvious choice is The Red Pony–but that’s too easy, and besides at the time I read it was just a horse story to me. I’m going to write about In Cold Blood by Truman Capote. I was probably in 7th or 8th grade when I read it with my dad.  My dad has always been a serious guy, and we tended to bond over heavy topics. One of my fond childhood memories is watching the British documentary series The World at War  with dad, and talking about it afterwards. So anyway, I noticed dad was reading In Cold Blood, so I wanted to read it, and we read it together.

If I learned about Big Evil from watching footage of Hitler on The World at War, then In Cold Blood was probably my introduction the banality of evil. I marveled that Hickock and Smith,  two  petty criminals, were able to subdue and murder a whole family.  One of the themes of the book was that, aside from having miserable childhoods, there was nothing particularly remarkable about either of them. They weren’t intelligent, their plans were ill-conceived, and their ineptitude was almost comical, except for their actions in the Clutter home that night. 

When I read In Cold Blood, I responded to it differently than other books I had read as a teen. It might have been the first time I thought about the writing, and the writer, as much as the story.  I was in awe of Capote’s portrayal of the family,  the crime, and the town of Holcomb, Kansas. For me this book defines a writer’s ability to portray a sense of place. If the murders weren’t bad enough, Capote paints it all against a backdrop of a lonely and isolated rural countryside.

I also wanted to know more about the author. How did he gather all of this information, do all of the interviews, and still maintain enough distance weave it all into this unsentimental work?   I sought out more of his books, and eventually I read them all.  Music for Chameleons (wow, what a difference from In Cold Blood) sparked an interest in reading short stories that has lasted a lifetime.  

I’ve reread In Cold Blood a few times since I read it with my dad — but not recently. Maybe it’s time to pick it up again…