The first Book Night: me casa, Me Cheeta

My first Book Night has taken place. Over a week ago, to be honest, but Christmas chaos got in the way of me spilling the beans. But here goes:

The day of Book Night arrived and my dog eared copy of Me Cheeta still had 40 unread pages. Scrawls in the margins had to be revisited and notes made (I did study English at University, so old habits die hard!). Nibbles needed to be bought & the house required serious spit and polish before it was fit for guests. That’s not to say that every Book Night would demand such attention… but, as it was the first, I wanted it to be fun and for conversation to flow as easily as the wine… and, most of all, I wanted all three of my Book Buddies to want to continue with Book Night.

My notes were a bridge too far… my theory was that I’d have something at my fingertips to kick start chat about the book if conversation flagged.  I jotted down the themes of the book, strikingly good description, tear-jerking bits, confusing bits and irritating bits.

In the event, of course, hardly any of this was touched upon. Because what I had hoped for happened: we had a very natural, fun chat about the book, discovering quickly that many of our views were the same. The overall impression we got was that Me Cheeta was an interesting concept: a chimp writing a memoir. The idea was funny — aping the celebrity memoir. After all, what difference a ghost writer penning Kerry Katonas autobiography than that of Cheeta, simian star of the Tarzan films?

So, that much we admired. But, where the book fell down for us was the name-dropping of Hollywood icons that we didn’t know, making it hard to distinguish fact from fiction, jokes from serious comment. As one girl said, had Cheeta been talking about Brangelina, our appetite would have been whetted. As it was, many of the names of Hollywood’s Golden Age meant, well, not a lot.

For my part, I was touched by the unexpected love story between Cheeta and Tarzan/Johnny Weissmuller. The story of a meeting between Cheeta and Johnny in their old age is so moving. Maybe it’s my hormones, but I confess to shedding a tear or two.  I also loved the description in the book… like, when an aged Cheeta pines for his Halcyon days being close to Johnny and successful in Hollywood: “My heart has tinnitus, a continuous, faint, high-pitched background scream. Love friend sad stay heart pain big stay heart pain big stay.” 

Cheeta also rips apart Hollywood’s golden shell and reveals something rotten inside. Whether you know of the icons he name-drops, or not, you can’t fail to soak up Cheeta’s impressions of a seedy, animalistic world, not unlike the jungle from which he was “saved”. A world in which Hollywood’s alphas rule and success = survival.

On Book Night, the ratio of social versus literary was heavily weighted on the social — as I had hoped it would be. But, despite picking a book that really didn’t bang my group’s drum, we managed a very respectable 30 minutes “book talk”, sandwiched between banter about anything and everything. It was fun… and there is already talk of Book Night 2, so I’m a happy gal.

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