A novella about a young woman fending for herself in New York City in the 1940s, Truman Capote’s Breakfast at Tiffany’s spotlights a certain kind of female independence that was rather uncommon in the mid-20th century. In particular, 20-year-old Holly Golightly emanates a sense of untethered freedom that not many women enjoyed at the time, allowing herself to move through the world on her own terms despite the many people trying to encroach upon her autonomy. For that matter, almost every character in the novella tries in some way to curtail Holly’s freedom. For instance, Holly’s neighbor Madame Sapphia Spanella frequently threatens to call the police because she’s uncomfortable with the bohemian, modern lifestyle that Holly has introduced to the building. Furthermore, the men who go out with Holly and pay her to accompany them in public try to force themselves into her life by accompanying her home and attempting to weasel their way into her apartment. However, Holly is quite adept at sidestepping any effort to inhibit her autonomy. In turn, Capote popularizes the archetype of the liberated woman in modern American literature. Breakfast at Tiffany’s illustrates what it might look like for a woman to live on her own terms instead of acquiescing to the gender dynamics of the 20th century, which generally promoted female passivity and conformity to patriarchal expectations.
Holly lives her life according to what she wants, paying little attention to what other people expect of her. This is especially evident in the way she ignores Madame Sapphia Spanella’s repeated complaints about her late-night parties and unconventional hours. In fact, Madame Spanella is a perfect embodiment of society’s intolerance of young women who don’t adhere to rigid conceptions of decency. At one point, for instance, Madame Spanella asks the other tenants in the building to sign a petition to evict Holly on the grounds that the young woman is “morally objectionable.” Of course, Holly has merely hosted parties and invited men into her apartment, but Madame Spanella sees this behavior as repugnant and reprehensible, as if young women are only allowed to socialize in certain ways and in certain contexts. Even within the confines of her own home, then, Holly faces criticism and disapproval about the way she lives—an indication of just how pervasive such ideals were and how difficult it was for an independent young woman living in the 1940s to avoid them.
Unfortunately for Holly, even the people she socializes with sometimes subject her to expectations that ultimately encroach upon her independence. As a young woman who financially sustains herself by spending time with wealthy men who are primarily interested in her looks, Holly frequently finds herself having to deflect their heavy-handed advances. For example, men sometimes walk her home and then try to get into her apartment, thinking she’ll have sex with them just because they took her to dinner. This is an assumption based on the patriarchal and overbearing belief that men are entitled to enter a woman’s private life—an indication that the society in which Holly exists expects young women like her to defer to men’s wishes. Because of this, it’s quite admirable when Holly turns away her lustful suitors, successfully benefitting from her relationships with them without ever sacrificing her independence.
Holly is unapologetically her own person, and this is perhaps why she develops such a close friendship with the unnamed narrator, who is quite passive and whom she calls Fred, after her own brother. Even this small detail says something about their relationship: Holly has so much control over their connection that she chooses what to call her new friend, effectively confirming that she’s free to do whatever she wants. Unfortunately, though, she doesn’t have this level of control over other areas of her life—something that becomes evident when she’s eventually arrested as a result of her involvement with a mobster named Sally Tomato. Throughout the novella, Holly visits Sally in prison, passing along coded messages between him and a man on the outside named Oliver O’Shaughnessy. She does this because O’Shaughnessy approached her and claimed that Sally once saw her and took a liking to her. Now, O’Shaughnessy tells her, Sally wants company while he serves time in prison, and though Holly senses that the mobster has an ulterior motive, she decides to go along with the plan simply because she likes visiting Sally. This willingness to break the law aligns with Holly’s overall lack of interest in anything that might curtail her ability to choose what she does with her life. In the end, she gets arrested and then flees to Brazil, demonstrating that she’ll do anything to protect her autonomy.
At the same time, though, running from the law considerably narrows the scope of Holly’s freedom, forcing her to live in hiding for the rest of her life. This, in turn, represents the ways in which society ostracizes people who reject conformity. A woman who has only ever wanted to live according to her own wishes, Holly now finds herself unable to embrace the kind of freedom she’s always sought. And though it’s true that she broke the law and presumably deserves to face the consequences, Capote uses her exile to represent the unfortunate fact that the world is unwilling to grant her the kind of freedom she has chased for her entire life. After all, Holly must become an outlaw and fugitive in order to continue her life as an independent, untethered woman. And she will, it seems, search for this freedom for the rest of her days.
Female Independence and Freedom ThemeTracker
Female Independence and Freedom Quotes in Breakfast at Tiffany’s
But there were moments when she played songs that made you wonder where she learned them, where indeed she came from. Harsh-tender wandering tunes with words that smacked of piney woods or prairie. One went: Don’t wanna sleep, Don’t wanna die, Just wanna go a-travelin’ through the pastures of the sky; and this one seemed to gratify her the most, for often she continued it long after her hair had dried, after the sun had gone and there were lighted windows in the dusk.
“Oh, you get used to anything,” I said, annoyed with myself, for actually I was proud of the place.
“I don’t. I’ll never get used to anything. Anybody that does, they might as well be dead." Her dispraising eyes surveyed the room again.
“If I do feel guilty, I guess it’s because I let him go on dreaming when I wasn’t dreaming a bit. I was just vamping for time to make a few self-improvements: I knew damn well I’d never be a movie star. It’s too hard; and if you’re intelligent, it’s too embarrassing. My complexes aren’t inferior enough: being a movie star and having a big fat ego are supposed to go hand-in-hand; actually, it’s essential not to have any ego at all. I don’t mean I’d mind being rich and famous. That’s very much on my schedule, and someday I’ll try to get around to it; but if it happens, I’d like to have my ego tagging along. I want to still be me when I wake up one fine morning and have breakfast at Tiffany’s.”
When I married Lulamae, that was in December, 1938, she was going on fourteen. Maybe an ordinary person, being only fourteen, wouldn’t know their right mind. But you take Lulamae, she was an exceptional woman. She knew good-and-well what she was doing when she promised to be my wife and the mother of my churren.
“The night I proposed, I cried like a baby. She said: ‘What you want to cry for, Doc? ’Course we’ll be married. I’ve never been married before.’ Well, I had to laugh, hug and squeeze her: never been married before!”
“Never love a wild thing, Mr. Bell," Holly advised him. “That was Doc’s mistake. He was always lugging home wild things. A hawk with a hurt wing. One time it was a full-grown bobcat with a broken leg. But you can’t give your heart to a wild thing: the more you do, the stronger they get. Until they’re strong enough to run into the woods. Or fly into a tree. Then a taller tree. Then the sky. That’s how you'll end up, Mr. Bell. If you let yourself love a wild thing. You’ll end up looking at the sky.”
[…]
“Good luck: and believe me […]: it’s better to look at the sky than live there. Such an empty place; so vague. Just a country where the thunder goes and things disappear.”
“Certain shades of limelight wreck a girl’s complexion. Even if a jury gave me the Purple Heart, this neighborhood holds no future: they’d still have up every rope from LaRue to Perona’s Bar and Grill— take my word […]. And if you lived off my particular talents. Cookie, you’d understand the kind of bankruptcy I’m describing.”
Flanked by potted plants and framed by clean lace curtains, he was seated in the window of a warm-looking room: I wondered what his name was, for I was certain he had one now, certain he’d arrived somewhere he belonged. African hut or whatever, I hope Holly has, too.