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Dear Mr. Capote
Gordon Lish's first novel tells the story of a serial killer who wants Truman Capote to write his biography. In the letter the killer writes to Capote, the details of his life and his modus operandi are revealed.
251 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1983
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261 people want to read
About the author
Gordon Lish
50 books77 followersGordon Jay Lish is an American writer. As a literary editor, he championed many American authors, particularly Raymond Carver, Barry Hannah, Amy Hempel, and Richard Ford.
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Displaying 1 - 15 of 15 reviews
August 6, 2013
http://msarki.tumblr.com/post/5747899...
Twelve starts the narrator has made in writing this letter. Trying to find the right word. Troubled by his own knowing that the right word will be the wrong word. He says he is trying out voices.
He is confiding in Mr. Capote, as in Truman Capote. His newest confidant. The newest receptor of this personal letter. Norman Mailer was his first choice, but he did not last. Norman did not play his cards right. Norman played this narrator for a fool.
This is the word he will start with. So his first sentence begins, "This is the twelfth start of the letter I am sending."
The narrator says he has already made a new start on this letter ten other times. And he has saved them all as examples to be given. But another time he tossed an even different start out. But the latest time, the last time, the twelfth time, he kept that first word this. And why twelve starts? Because he is serious. He is sending this letter. He is mailing it. And he is large, and he is feeling large, and it is important that this letter be written. He will also say enough times in this letter, "I am large."
The final letter will result in two-hundred and sixty-four pages of text. Pages and pages of large words like effectuate, capstone, impediment, and disdain. There are also words like snickersnee and paraldehyde. Not to mention the words pulmotor and authorized. Every word taken from the Word-a-Day calendar.
By the time he is finished writing his letter to Truman Capote the letter will have become a story. A long story. A novel. And we will know Davie very well. For Davie is the one with the voice. He is the one trying out voices. Except he thinks Davie is his brother who drowned years ago. And Davie was not well then. But he thinks he is dead. Davie is not dead. And Davie is still not well. Davie is killing people. And using his words to do it. Like capstone. But he is not only using his words to kill, but his knife, Paki, too. Paki as in Pakistan. I believe, if I remember correctly, that he found Paki by the water cooler. In the bank in which he works. He sets each victim up with a word from the Word-a-Day calendar, and then pop! he pops them right in the eye with his Paki. It does something to their brain. The words do. And then Paki does too.
In the letter there is some reference to a Mr. Berkowitz, the killer, the Son of Sam monster. And Davie intends on eclipsing Mr. Berkowitz's record for serial killings by killing one person for every year of his life which is now fixed at forty-seven years. Davie has amassed a number of twenty-three dead thus far.
And the woman he loves, Janet R., he is not married to. Davie is married to T.C., or Tamara Chris, and has been for ten years. They have a small son he talks to on walkie-talkies. "Red Dog, Red Dog this is Blue Dog calling, come in."
What elements make up this madman's life? Does it matter that just hearing the name of Buddy Brown makes him feel sweaty? That the words pica and inch feel sweaty too? That the name Barbara Luddy makes him think brown eyes? That Ann Shepherd was really Scheindel Kadish who played Hope Evans on Big Sister and who also played Pearl Taggart on Our Gal Sunday? That Bill Lido has "great hair"? Or that Bill Lido was the voice behind, "This is radio for all America, the Mutual Broadcasting System"? Or what about Ben Bernie saying "Yowsah, yowsah, yowsah"? Words. All of them words. And with them, fascination.
Twelve starts the narrator has made in writing this letter. Trying to find the right word. Troubled by his own knowing that the right word will be the wrong word. He says he is trying out voices.
He is confiding in Mr. Capote, as in Truman Capote. His newest confidant. The newest receptor of this personal letter. Norman Mailer was his first choice, but he did not last. Norman did not play his cards right. Norman played this narrator for a fool.
This is the word he will start with. So his first sentence begins, "This is the twelfth start of the letter I am sending."
The narrator says he has already made a new start on this letter ten other times. And he has saved them all as examples to be given. But another time he tossed an even different start out. But the latest time, the last time, the twelfth time, he kept that first word this. And why twelve starts? Because he is serious. He is sending this letter. He is mailing it. And he is large, and he is feeling large, and it is important that this letter be written. He will also say enough times in this letter, "I am large."
The final letter will result in two-hundred and sixty-four pages of text. Pages and pages of large words like effectuate, capstone, impediment, and disdain. There are also words like snickersnee and paraldehyde. Not to mention the words pulmotor and authorized. Every word taken from the Word-a-Day calendar.
By the time he is finished writing his letter to Truman Capote the letter will have become a story. A long story. A novel. And we will know Davie very well. For Davie is the one with the voice. He is the one trying out voices. Except he thinks Davie is his brother who drowned years ago. And Davie was not well then. But he thinks he is dead. Davie is not dead. And Davie is still not well. Davie is killing people. And using his words to do it. Like capstone. But he is not only using his words to kill, but his knife, Paki, too. Paki as in Pakistan. I believe, if I remember correctly, that he found Paki by the water cooler. In the bank in which he works. He sets each victim up with a word from the Word-a-Day calendar, and then pop! he pops them right in the eye with his Paki. It does something to their brain. The words do. And then Paki does too.
In the letter there is some reference to a Mr. Berkowitz, the killer, the Son of Sam monster. And Davie intends on eclipsing Mr. Berkowitz's record for serial killings by killing one person for every year of his life which is now fixed at forty-seven years. Davie has amassed a number of twenty-three dead thus far.
And the woman he loves, Janet R., he is not married to. Davie is married to T.C., or Tamara Chris, and has been for ten years. They have a small son he talks to on walkie-talkies. "Red Dog, Red Dog this is Blue Dog calling, come in."
What elements make up this madman's life? Does it matter that just hearing the name of Buddy Brown makes him feel sweaty? That the words pica and inch feel sweaty too? That the name Barbara Luddy makes him think brown eyes? That Ann Shepherd was really Scheindel Kadish who played Hope Evans on Big Sister and who also played Pearl Taggart on Our Gal Sunday? That Bill Lido has "great hair"? Or that Bill Lido was the voice behind, "This is radio for all America, the Mutual Broadcasting System"? Or what about Ben Bernie saying "Yowsah, yowsah, yowsah"? Words. All of them words. And with them, fascination.
July 30, 2008
I wish that more people knew who Gordon Lish was so that I could coin the verb to lish. I've always wanted to coin something. Maybe Lish's relative (and undeserved) obscurity would work to my advantage. Maybe. Anyhow, I hope, if lishing ever catches on, that I receive my due recognition in the OED and elsewhere.
lish, verb. 1. To alter a common or ordinary item or idea so as to make it unrecognizable and utterly remarkable.
2. To turn garbage into gold, to make dust into diamonds, to fashion puke into pearls.
3. The opposite of stereotype.
Example: In Dear Mr. Capote, the author takes a plastic-blow-up-doll cliche (serial killer) and lishes it into a curious, stylish, heart-fraught Frankenstein's monster who will walk stiff-legged all over your mind.
The next time someone bugs me with that old fake argument, Style v. Substance, (rather than realizing that when it comes to fiction, style is substance, that it's the only substance there is, that no matter how you clean it off or wipe it down or dust it up, you'll always find only more style underneath) I'm going to use this book as my armor. And if armor isn't enough, I'll use it as a weapon. I swear I will lish the crap out of that someone.
lish, verb. 1. To alter a common or ordinary item or idea so as to make it unrecognizable and utterly remarkable.
2. To turn garbage into gold, to make dust into diamonds, to fashion puke into pearls.
3. The opposite of stereotype.
Example: In Dear Mr. Capote, the author takes a plastic-blow-up-doll cliche (serial killer) and lishes it into a curious, stylish, heart-fraught Frankenstein's monster who will walk stiff-legged all over your mind.
The next time someone bugs me with that old fake argument, Style v. Substance, (rather than realizing that when it comes to fiction, style is substance, that it's the only substance there is, that no matter how you clean it off or wipe it down or dust it up, you'll always find only more style underneath) I'm going to use this book as my armor. And if armor isn't enough, I'll use it as a weapon. I swear I will lish the crap out of that someone.
July 17, 2022
A chilling depiction of a disordered mind. Gordon Lish’s 1983 debut novel is framed as a letter written by a serial killer imploring Truman Capote (and, initially, Norman Mailer) to write a book about him. The killer is neither smart, nor clever, nor interesting in his insights or motivations. He is, instead, banal, repetitive, racist, misogynist. Obsessed with media and media coverage. His command of language reduced to stale clichés (“Listen, do me a favor and don’t make me laugh”) and mirthless jokes. The truth is hidden, obfuscated, delayed, placing the reader in the role of psychoanalyst. Lish’s achievement here is in showing us how language—that is, reality itself—is debased when filtered through resentment and narcissism.
July 11, 2007
One of my favorite books of all time. Twisted and uncomfortable. His best longer work.
July 23, 2009
Great premise - serial killer trying to sell his life story to a famous author via a long promotional letter. So good.
The book moves slowly; Lish unveils his killer's motives and history (along with his cringe worthy mode of killing)in a rambling, distracted style. Made me feel unsettled as to what occurred and who is real, even at the end.
That being said, this book was a labor of love. His writing is sometimes repetitive and sometimes obtuse but always entertaining. It feels like he's tries to squish as many words as possible into a sentence without changing the meaning or violating the grammar. Racked my brains trying to keep-up (not a bad thing).
The book moves slowly; Lish unveils his killer's motives and history (along with his cringe worthy mode of killing)in a rambling, distracted style. Made me feel unsettled as to what occurred and who is real, even at the end.
That being said, this book was a labor of love. His writing is sometimes repetitive and sometimes obtuse but always entertaining. It feels like he's tries to squish as many words as possible into a sentence without changing the meaning or violating the grammar. Racked my brains trying to keep-up (not a bad thing).
November 2, 2019
Props to anyone whose read and can say that they're comfortable with where they're at reading. A mindfuck, a festival of nightmares, a celebration of psychosis, your first time reading anything worth reading, period, Lish brings it. Or brought it. It's brung, motherfucker!
April 20, 2022
I'm here to tell you, Dear Mr. Capote is smart.
Reading this book you'll see how long a minute is.
Listen, you can see it for yourself! Gordon Lish with his pen, brilliant and insane, he really makes you think, you know? I mean, me reading this book, just for starters. This was the thing of it and the rest was nothing nohow! This was my third attempt at reading this book. Here is the reason for it being the third attempt. The reason was because of Lish's style! It can be a bit infuriating. Granted, I can get into it for a while. But is a while long enough? I am making reference to the voice of the main character. But, between you, me, and the lamppost, it's not overly important. Hey, believe me, if you live long enough there is nothing that you won't get to. Read this book before that.
Reading this book you'll see how long a minute is.
Listen, you can see it for yourself! Gordon Lish with his pen, brilliant and insane, he really makes you think, you know? I mean, me reading this book, just for starters. This was the thing of it and the rest was nothing nohow! This was my third attempt at reading this book. Here is the reason for it being the third attempt. The reason was because of Lish's style! It can be a bit infuriating. Granted, I can get into it for a while. But is a while long enough? I am making reference to the voice of the main character. But, between you, me, and the lamppost, it's not overly important. Hey, believe me, if you live long enough there is nothing that you won't get to. Read this book before that.
January 27, 2013
I finally finished! Praise God, sweet merciful arbiter of the universe. I think this might actually be the last of the serial killer themed novels I have to read this term, I cannot put into words how grateful I am.
Some fun facts about this book:
+ the prose style made me want to run away, it just piles up cliches and popular expressions until you are buried under a deluge of meaningless words and putting serious thought into punching the next person who says any variation on 'face the facts' to you
+ the sex was incredibly repellent, like is this just a feature of serial killer novels because i am starting to think this class is secretly an incredibly effective experiment in abstinence education.
+ i don't actually have anything else to say, it just felt weird leaving this at two points. let's just re-emphasize how repulsive this writing is, it took me the entire day to finish reading this book because i kept quitting to take 'breaks' on the internet or stare at the wall or read another book or poke at my brother playing videogames or literally anything other than force myself through more pages, i anti-recommend it to the highest of all possible degrees
1 star
Some fun facts about this book:
+ the prose style made me want to run away, it just piles up cliches and popular expressions until you are buried under a deluge of meaningless words and putting serious thought into punching the next person who says any variation on 'face the facts' to you
+ the sex was incredibly repellent, like is this just a feature of serial killer novels because i am starting to think this class is secretly an incredibly effective experiment in abstinence education.
+ i don't actually have anything else to say, it just felt weird leaving this at two points. let's just re-emphasize how repulsive this writing is, it took me the entire day to finish reading this book because i kept quitting to take 'breaks' on the internet or stare at the wall or read another book or poke at my brother playing videogames or literally anything other than force myself through more pages, i anti-recommend it to the highest of all possible degrees
1 star
September 2, 2024
Maybe it was the rambling, repetitive narration, maybe it was the characterization or the banal misogyny, I don't quite know, but this book felt like what would happen if Holden Caulfield grew up to be a serial killer and wrote letters about it. I can see this book being a "glimpse into madness" that some readers really enjoy, but unfortunately I am not one of them.
Disclaimer: I haven't read the Catcher in the Rye in several years so the Holden thing may be entirely off base, but that comparison was all I could think about, particularly when the letters were fixating (in painful detail, mind you) on the most unsettling sexual experiences of the letter-writer's life.
Disclaimer: I haven't read the Catcher in the Rye in several years so the Holden thing may be entirely off base, but that comparison was all I could think about, particularly when the letters were fixating (in painful detail, mind you) on the most unsettling sexual experiences of the letter-writer's life.
July 10, 2023
Sensationally sinister serial-killer novel capturing uniquely the banality, the prurience, and the childish nature of an unhinged mind—told in deceptively bouncy prose that flexes Lish’s talent for sustained voice and inner monologue across a novel rich in subtlety, detail, black humour, and unapologetically creepy sleaze.
July 3, 2019
Took longer than it should have. The ramblings of a madman were wearying.
March 23, 2024
Schizophrenic and murderous rendition of Portnoy’s Complaint. Oh no, I’m getting another boner!!
July 28, 2024
A man trying his best to tell you about the horrific murders he commited so you can write a novel about them but the confused little child in him keeps spilling out.
I read this in complete awe, an insane narrative structure disguised in the form of rambling. Plants words and sentences that invoke vague assumptions in your mind from the first page, that later form into paragraphs, which get cut off because of the narrators short attention span, eventually leading into a cyclical structure where all windows promise a separate view into this twisted mind but not only can't he keep his focus between them, he keeps remembering more and more. This constant increase in plot points while nothing really concludes gets very intense, but what really delivers the punch are the pages where he finally gathers his focus and talks about certain things for pages on end.
It really reads as if the sentences were flowing out of Lish without a second thought but also has an immaculate structure. I can't even begin to comprehend how one goes about creating such work.
I read this in complete awe, an insane narrative structure disguised in the form of rambling. Plants words and sentences that invoke vague assumptions in your mind from the first page, that later form into paragraphs, which get cut off because of the narrators short attention span, eventually leading into a cyclical structure where all windows promise a separate view into this twisted mind but not only can't he keep his focus between them, he keeps remembering more and more. This constant increase in plot points while nothing really concludes gets very intense, but what really delivers the punch are the pages where he finally gathers his focus and talks about certain things for pages on end.
It really reads as if the sentences were flowing out of Lish without a second thought but also has an immaculate structure. I can't even begin to comprehend how one goes about creating such work.
November 13, 2011
I didn't see it. Every review I had read said it was a disturbingly good read...
August 23, 2025
tbr review:
thank you to the random bookstore that barely had any books in it for this crazy find. im actually kind of scared to read this.
——
dnf review:
yeah this was not very good.
thank you to the random bookstore that barely had any books in it for this crazy find. im actually kind of scared to read this.
——
dnf review:
yeah this was not very good.
Displaying 1 - 15 of 15 reviews