I watched "Breakfast at Tiffany's" a couple nights ago, the first time since I'd read the story, and felt a big surge of disapointment over the ending. I knw it's Hollywood, but the happy ending was so unbelievable. How could Holly Golightly ever settle down with any man? She's not even alive.
The mean reds--what a beautiful term, so eloquent, so evocative--ate Holly alive. She was an empty shell, just clinging to the world for her one last connection: her brother, Fred. With his death, she was cut loose. No man could bring her back from that abyss.
Sorry. This was a bad aside, poorly written, tres lame. But I've been thinking about the mean reds a lot lately. Sometimes they pick me up and swallow me whole. I worry I'll never be able to be a good mom because of them. They unhinge me, untie me from my mind. I hate to see myself swimming in a mean red sea.
But there's no Tiffany's on Oregon coast.