Customer Reviews

The Cheese Monkeys: A Novel In Two Semesters (P.S.)

5 star:		(34)
4 star:		(29)
3 star:		(11)
2 star:		(7)
1 star:		(5)

 

 

Someone needs to do a study of Needlessly Apocalyptic Endings in Modern Fiction. Most of this book is great fun; hip and funny, and also a Work of Ideas, all about art and love and design and integrity and stuff. Then (somewhere around the Frat Party scene) Kidd seems to have realized it was about time for the ending, and reached for the explosives.

The last two chapters seem to be mostly a hallucinatory dream induced by lack of sleep (the protagonist's, that is, although I could believe it of Kidd also). Which is very nice and modern and all, but I'd rather know what *happened*. Unless I'm overly dense, Kidd is violating his own quite plausible design rule: when designing an object of whatever kind, it's more important that it accomplish the purpose than that it look clever.

But anyway! It's a good book, and do read it. It won't take all that long; it's a pretty wild and energetic ride. And maybe the ending that was silly and opaque to me will be lucid and relevatory to you. You Never Know.

The Cheese Monkeys is a rare kind of novel--completely off the wall, yet completely accessible, completely readable. It's the story of a freshman at a huge state college who decides to major in art because he knows it will be mishandled in some mediocre way and for his first semester, it is. He takes drawing from a woman whose artistic expertise and tastes even this 18 year old disdains. The class, however, still has its merits. He manages to befriend two diametrically opposed women who take his second semester art class--commercial (or maybe its graphic) arts. The professor is borderline insane, as are many of the assignments. Kidd does an excellent job of evoking the weirdness and the fun of college. The ending of the novel is a little bizarre, and Kidd does manage to fill the book with much of what appears to be his own philosophy of art (its not forced, which is refreshing). The novel is funny and clever and I really enjoyed it. Well done.

Four stars for cleverness and fun. Two stars for not being able to close a story. Notice I'm not saying,"Resolve." Kidd is clever, entertaining, and offers wonderful--often hilarious, justifiable insights in to the demimonde of Art and the creatures to be found therein. Yet with the closing chapter, possibly two, Kidd becomes facile and employs a preposterous "deus ex machina" which more than anything suggests weariness with the story and/or an inability to end a thing which has moved beyond his ability to control/complete. I was entranced right up to the last two chapters and then felt Kidd reneged on all those high sounding principles he earlier expounded.

Though Chip Kidd is best known as a "graphic designer" for book covers (as opposed to "commercial artist," a distinction he makes in the book), his talent as a writer could propel him into a whole new field--and this book into cult icon status. With a clarity of vision perhaps brought on by hindsight, he lays bare the emotional and intellectual confusion of a naïve, first year art student at a state university, a character who must find himself in an atmosphere which requires him to evaluate all the ideas and values he's uncritically absorbed to date. The character, who feels autobiographical, is lively, funny, and, I thought, totally believable, and I suspect that any reader who has ever taken an art course will empathize, if not identify, with him in some way.

As the speaker lives through this "novel in two semesters," he is profoundly affected by an off-the-wall female upperclassman, Himillsy Dodd, a free-spirited, hard-drinking woman of strong opinions, willing to challenge everyone and everything. Opposing hypocrisy wherever she finds it (virtually everywhere), Himillsy serves as a quirky mentor during the speaker's first two art classes, the second of which is with Winter Sorbeck, a never-to-be-forgotten instructor who turns his students' thinking inside-out, viciously critiquing not only of their work but also their personalities. As "Happy" deals with Sorbeck, Himillsy, the usual freshman tensions, fraternity parties, exams, critiques, and all-nighters, the reader shares his anxieties and feels his growth.

The amusing cover of the book resembles a doodled-on freshman text, with a magic marker message written on the binding and side of the closed book, bleeding into the pages themselves. The title, taken from one of Himillsy's sculptures, is as goofy as she is, though its meaning becomes clearer as the book progresses. The ending is a letdown, however, and it feels as if the book got away from the author, who then had to take extreme action to resolve his subplots and themes. Still, it is an auspicious debut, special fun for anyone interested in art. Mary Whipple

I've had a difficult time lately finding contemporary novels that interest me beyond the dust jacket. Most novels look great, sound great, but lack substance. Chip Kidd's debut is one of the rare exceptions.

Kidd manages, in a relatively clean, simple narrative, to explore the depths of the human need to create. He does so with wit, vigor, and insight. I literally could not put the novel down once I started it last night (and I really could have used those extra hours of sleep--but the novel was too engrossing).

I have one question though: Does anyone know why Chip Kidd thanks The Berkshire Mall (of all places)?

Overall, a brilliant work of contemporary fiction. Buy it and enjoy.

It's something of a shame that the word "monkey" has become so painfully overused. Where people who think they're being 'surreal' say "fish", people who think they're being 'wacky' say "monkey". Perhaps Chip Kidd gets a small part around this by eschewing words for pictures on the front cover of his novel.

The Cheese Monkeys is part autobiography, part post-teen fantasy, part intense lecture on the importance of good graphic design. Kidd made his name (and makes his living) designing book jackets for Alfred A. Knopf (the company, rather than the man), and is oft credited with causing some sort of revolution in American book covers. Although probably not on the scale of the French or Industrial revolution, his work has meant that the US is climbing out of its horrible hole of poor book design.

When turning to writing, he wasn't going to avoid the subject, or indeed avoid implementing it. Not only does the cover not support the title, but writing appears on the edge opposite the spine. The openy-page-turny side. A feat I've not seen since I drew zig-zaggy patterns with a red pen across my mum's childhood copy of The Treasure Hunters. Spread the pages in one direction and you see one phrase, bend the book the other way to see a second. It's a gimmick, but dammit, it's a cool one.

Layout inside is thoughtful and interesting. The traditional form of the copyright and publication bumph is played with, dragged over pages, printed backwards, etc. Thankfully the main text of the book itself is left well alone, although printed with an inch margin on all for sides. But of course this is just pretties.

It also has a fine story. The autobiographical tone of a young man studying art at State University is confused by its being set in 1958, eight years before Kidd was born. Why this is doesn't appear appreciable at first, until you meet the first potentially unlikely event, and he begins to play with a reader's assumed trust of the biographical tone.

The central protagonist meets the most perfectly captured literary form of that type of girl everyone has met at one point - and been bewildered by, male or female. She's dangerous, inspired and far too clever for the world she's trapped in, creating a disciple of the narrator, while of course having an inevitable, unreachable boyfriend.

But more of the story is devoted to one particular lecturer, Winter Sorbeck, a hideous and brilliant man, spiteful and passionate, cruel and inspiring. He teaches "Introduction to Graphic Design", and as such the book forms its own circle, utterly vicious.

A positive quote printed in the book (it carries negative reviews as well) says "cliche free". This is both completely true, and entirely wrong. Kidd never uses a single cliche, be they descriptive or narrative. But he invents about three hundred phrases that damn well should be. The ceaselessly inventive prose is never obvious, and really does become complete apparent until you read anything else at all, at which point you'll begin to spot the hackneyed phrases that infest all our language.

Amazing the things you learn by reading Amazon customer reviews. I didn't know Chip Kidd was a book jacket designer.

Well, the beginning was very funny. The story was interesting, especially from the perspective of someone who is not an artist and only took one art (photography) class in college. The creative process was fascinating.

But then what happens toward the end? The tone of the whole thing changes, and the book until that point doesn't really prepare you for how dark and disjointed it gets. The last chapter just seems very rushed.

A highly enjoyable first book, which had me laughing out loud on more than one occasion. Not easy to put down, and readable in one sitting. If you're in the mood for the type of cruel humor one would expect to see in an indie film, then The Cheese Monkeys is definitely worth a read.

Several prior reviewers make good points esp. w.r.t. character development and the ending (clever but odd), but these shortcomings really don't take away from what is certainly a funny and highly original work.

I just finished the book and I must say I was borderline depressed that it was over. It is one of the most clever, innovative, and humorous books I've read in a long time. I highly recommend it to anyone who's any sort of art major or really any major at all. Even though it's set in the fifties, it captures the college experience, no matter what decade you attended or whether you're in college now. I can't say enough about this book other than, READ IT!

This is the story of a graphic design class, except it really *is* a graphic design class. Our hero is enrolled in an art class at a state university, and the offerings are, at best, sleepy. Until Winter Sorbeck, graphic design teacher, strides into the narrative and wakes everyone up. The characterization of this charismatic, brutal teacher is no less than masterful, and also an interesting study in power and the dark sway of advertising ("you infect them with your obsessions").

Chip Kidd has a sharp, sure way with language and tells the story of beleaguered art majors like no one has before. The only drawback is an inconclusive ending, a fizzled wreck that detracts from the rest of the story. Up until then, though, it's 5 stars.