Cute, Quaint, Hungry, and Romantic: The Aesthetics of Consumerism (Hardcover)

~ (Author) "She stands in maroon bloomers and a pink dress that flares tantalizingly above two acrylic legs that descend, unvaried in diameter, all the way down..." (more)
Key Phrases: controlled nonconformity, food advertisers, food advertisements, Madison Avenue (more...)

Editorial Reviews

Amazon.com Review

From his perch somewhere in Brooklyn, New York, essayist Daniel Harris launches a loquacious jeremiad against the way in which consumerism and its ideologies have insinuated themselves into our sense of self. Cute, Quaint, Hungry and Romantic is a critical examination of the everyday things that surround us--from washing machines to vitamin supplements, reproduction antiques to supermodels. Taking aim at cuteness, quaintness, coolness, the romantic, zaniness, the futuristic, deliciousness, the natural, glamorousness, and cleanness, he seeks to expose just how tangled is the web we have woven, his goal being to show "how the aesthetics of consumerism are the lies we tell ourselves to preserve our individuality." Buying a four-by-four does not make us roughriders or adventurers, despite the names such vehicles bear. We know this as we drive our Wrangler or Jeep through the smooth streets of suburbia, yet the off-road ads still appeal. The perversity is the way in which attempts at iconoclasm are themselves domesticated into corporate opportunity: dirty denim, pick-up trucks as general vehicles, "wackiness."

Harris is not a man to mince his words. The reader sits almost breathless in the face of his vituperation. For example, discussing teenagers and coolness, he writes: "The romantic movement's cult of the child has created a foul-mouthed enfant terrible who has turned the playground into a necropolis, where prematurely aged Byronic figures stagger from the merry-go-round to the seesaw to the jungle gym, striking poses of misery and ennui, convinced that their solemnity lends them an air of sophistication and maturity."

The critique is scathing and often penetrating. Cute, Quaint, Hungry and Romantic is a bracing read and a call to consciousness. Even the least sophisticated consumers know they are manipulated. Even the most sophisticated, Harris argues, do not really acknowledge how much they, too, are willing dupes.--J. Riches

From Publishers Weekly

In an attempt to elucidate the intricate cultural interaction between the consumer and the consumed, Harris (The Rise and Fall of Gay Culture) examines a wide sampling of cultural relics, such as wood-burning stoves, Taco Bell Meximelts, Absolut Vodka and television sitcoms. While he is occasionally on target--as with his observation that the more destructive the product (e.g., cars, cigarettes), the more likely its advertisements will feature gorgeous nature photography--he more frequently states the obvious. For example, he notes that cute dolls are really parents' wish projections, aimed at compensating for the more ambivalent reality of kids, and that the "quaintness" sold by stores like Renovation Hardware doesn't reflect a desire for a less commercial past so much as an unthinking commercialization of that fantasy. All too often, Harris makes sweeping generalizations--such as his argument that hardcore porn and beautifully photographed food "interfere with our ability to appreciate real" lovers or food--that ignore the complexity of human existence and interaction. As Harris reveals in his afterword, he doesn't have any solutions, but "as a cultural critic and not a visionary... I have always felt it is sufficient for me to destroy--to slash, to burn." Unfortunately, his unrelenting negativism undercuts his arguments and makes for arduous reading. (May)
Copyright 2000 Reed Business Information, Inc.

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Product Details

• Hardcover: 228 pages
• Publisher: Basic Books (May 2, 2000)
• Language: English
• ISBN-10: 0465028489
• ISBN-13: 978-0465028481
• Product Dimensions: 7.6 x 5.8 x 1.2 inches
• Shipping Weight: 15.2 ounces
• Average Customer Review: 3.6 out of 5 stars  See all reviews (16 customer reviews)
• Amazon.com Sales Rank: #310,942 in Books (See Bestsellers in Books)

Customer Reviews

Most Helpful Customer Reviews

29 of 30 people found the following review helpful:

3.0 out of 5 stars Cleverly rethinks the familiar, but ultimately unsatisfying, August 5, 2000

By	"pierce_inverarity" (silicon valley) - See all my reviews

There are some thought-provoking ideas here about the aesthetics of pop culture, and interesting mini-histories of topics such as changes in the shape of popular teddy bears. Harris's short essays are entertaining and well-written, but fall far short of the academic lit-crit standards to which they aspire.

The subject matter is clearly inspired by Susan Sontag's wonderful essay "On Kitsch," but Harris never lives up to Sontag's reading breadth or intellectual relentlessness. Links to other theory, besides a shallow few pop-theorists, are nonexistent. The essays, in exchange for their commendable brevity, don't explore their subjects very deeply, yet sometimes contain so little core content that they manage to be repetitive even in the few pages they are allotted.

Many of Harris's examples seem ad-hoc: why did he pick this specific movie to dwell on for a few pages, instead of another one that may disprove his point? He often quotes without attribution, confusing the reader with quotation marks around sentences or passages whose original sources remain unattributed. And lastly, despite the year 2000 copyright, many of these essays are clearly ten to twenty years old. They talk about "new" phenomena such "Miami Vice," "L.A. Law," and touch-tone telephones.

Lastly, Harris is a bit of a lit-crit Holden Caulfield. To him, everything is fake, stupid, and contrived. He doesn't like anything or anyone. Do you eat hamburgers? Harris will tell you that you're a stupid fawning corporate slave. Do you shun hamburgers? You're also a stupid fawning corporate slave. This gets tiresome after a while, especially in light of Harris's tendency to over-state his argument, and exaggerate some minor aspects of relatively benign things. What is genuine or admirable? Nothing at all, it seems. (And that kind of nihilism Harris would probably also condemn.)

But this is a fast read, and therefore may be worth your time. Its small insights -- such as the ethic of "post-counterculture" present in the film Thelma & Louise -- make the whole book worth it. Not a masterpiece, but wortwhile anyway.

12 of 12 people found the following review helpful:

4.0 out of 5 stars Don't ever judge people by what they buy..., June 10, 2001

By A Customer

In "Cute, Quaint, Hungry and Romantic", essayist and cultural critic Daniel Harris proposes a simple thesis: consumer choices and their underlying aesthetic expressions are crucibles of self-deceptive individuality actually embedded in unseen, and often ignorant, mass-market conformity.

Claiming to avoid the usual critiques that define our spending habits and material acquisitions as blatant attacks on the bad taste of the average American, Harris instead claims that this work approaches "consumerism" from the vantage-point of the immediate, sensual, tactile and "experienced" world. Consumerism rooted in the senses.

In this regard, Harris succeeds magnificently. He captures the often pathetic, frequently silly, and always magical associations between what we feel, what we think, and the way our product choices define for ourselves a sense of self.

Along the way, Harris reveals the inherent contradictions that inhabit our pathetic need to make a "me" out of what is purchased. This is hardly a groundbreaking hypothesis. Where he departs from the usual and typical is in identifying the insidiously clever way that advertisers pander to our individual and collective, self-created, personas by masking the true nature of the very stuff we wear, listen to, watch, eat and take into our homes.

Broken down into delightful chapter heading such as, "Cuteness", "Coolness", "Deliciousness", "Glamorousness", etc., Harris' book exploits the that what is marketed as "cute" is often grotesque, "Coolness" is almost indistinguishable from awkward "nerdiness", "Delicious" food advertising almost never articulates bodily hunger, and the glamour of the fashion and cosmetic industries are couched in images and rhetoric that, perversely, prey on our fears of ugliness rejection.

In this sense, the book is a delight.

But Harris, immersed in an urban culture where commercial images and messages are the fabric of our existence, fails to make the case for a complete and inseparable link between what we are and what we buy. His work seduces us in theory. However, it is entirely restricted to the interplay between the advertiser and the consumer. This approach gives far too much credit to the psychological acuity of the advertising industry and far too little to the unpredictable, untidy and complex interior landscapes that govern our minds and bodies.

Bromides against the so-called banal "Americanism" of modern culture always seem to fall into this trap. Being an "American Consumer" does not abrogate the universal experience shared by all living people, be they American, Finns, or Chinese. And whereas we are sometimes the unwitting cast in a play written by others, we are also the dynamic authors of that play.

Is the media so brilliant that it can read and control our inner selves, like the Wizard of Oz, hiding safely behind black curtains, manipulating our every impulse? And does Harris unmask them and free us from their nefarious grasp?

Buy this book and decide for yourself.

As for me, I remain unconvinced. Living, breathing people are far more elusive, clever and complex than anyone can claim to know.

"Cute, Quaint...", is a good, entertaining, solid read that is one-dimensional, at best.

17 of 19 people found the following review helpful:

5.0 out of 5 stars Best Unknown Essayist Around, May 24, 2000

By	Chris O'Neill "cjoneill2" (New Orleans) - See all my reviews

Daniel Harris is that unusual essayist who writes about popular culture in an informative, unpretentious and humorous way. He doesn't spend all of his time trying to inflate the importance of the subjects of his essays to make himself seem more important. Instead, he just goes about selecting familiar yet unexamined niches of popular culture and reveals the ironies that turn up with wit and enthusiasm. These 10 essays on the aesthetics of consumerism may embarrass some readers when they show how we've been manipulated by corporate marketing, but, ultimately, one can't help but feel enlightened and thoroughly entertained by Harris' writing. As essays as good as these rarely appear in mainstream publications, I would recommend buying this book without hesitation.