To the editors of the New Yorker

I write reluctantly, and yet with, I feel, an historico-moral imperative to set the record on some key facts. In the first place, my father never visited Kansas with Truman Capote. Indeed, he never set foot in the sunflower state–on this point, there is no doubt. In fact, my father had the curious and somewhat disturbing habit, at moments of personal agitation, of screaming out “Kansas? Never! And certainly not with Truman Capote!” Secondly, the multi-year liaison my father had with both Capote and William Shawn could be best described as “entirely non-existent.” My personal anguish over these points is only compounded by the fact that my father is never even mentioned in Bennet Miller’s film.







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