Yeah. That’ll do.

This really is just the absolute bedrock of true crime. Stephen King, Cormac McCarthy, Thomas Harris, etc., all owe a huge debt. But unlike many things that serve as a template or the first of something that is later improved upon, this is still a damn well-written book.

I appreciated that Capote only showed you the violence when necessary. It’s clear he himself didn’t want to go there, but also needed to understand why. And he, Dewey, Susan, and the reader are all left without a satisfying answer.

Good lord. Good book.