And that’s quite a trick on Capote’s part. By placing the memory within a larger biography what might have been a simple, funny and heartwarming reminiscence takes on a greater meaning. These rituals didn’t last forever, and loneliness and sadness often took their place in the years that followed. Suddenly, near the end of the story, Capote pulls back the lens and we see the Christmas memory with more context. The story is so warm and content and self-enclosed as the narrator details the many little Christmas traditions he shared with his cousin and friend. The key trick Capote manages, as far as I can tell, is pulling the rug out from under the readers a little bit at the end. Presenting the bulk of the story as a self-enclosed world untouched by time before highlighting the heartbreakingly temporary nature of the rituals A Christmas Memory by Truman Capote, 1956
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