I Am the Cheese

Adam is riding his bicycle through several small towns en route to visiting his father in the hospital. In between these scenes an interview is taking place where someone is being helped with delving into their memories, filling in the blanks that they are no longer able to recall. These two threads gradually sew together, and we discover that neither one is entirely what it appears to be.

I read a lot of books as a kid, but this one I found completely disorienting. I didn't know what kind of doctor only talks to you and takes notes, had never read a book that alternated between past and present, and I found the ending indecipherable. Now as an adult I can unravel it, but I'm surprised by its complexity given its target audience and not show more surprised at all that I couldn't grasp it then. The ending's revelations are subtly done and lingering mysteries remain. Was the family betrayed? Is his father still on the run? Where did the Hertz family go? It's a grim story with a sinister message about distrusting authority but so artful that I have to admire it, as if Thomas Pynchon were to write cogent young adult. show less

I picked up this book on a whim, expecting to only read a few pages at the time. I immediately found myself sucked into Cormier's unique style and was hooked by the mysterious ambiguity of the plot. This is a novel you should not begin unless you plan to finish it. The story itself is masterfully paced and plotted, with an emotional clarity reminiscent of Daniel Keyes's Flowers for Algernon. It is dark, but there is a sad beauty in its blackness. It is thought provoking as Cormier examines bureaucracy vs. the individual and the futility in trying to escape the inevitable. Adam is a delicate, soulful character and his tragic story will echo through your mind for a long while after the last page. Though this is YA, adults should not miss show more this one. show less

Cormier pioneers YA psychological fiction with this unforgettable ride. Adam Farmer pedals across New England on a bike trip that becomes entwined with intense psychotherapy sessions—revealing a hidden past, witness-protection secrets, and government mind games. The structure—alternating between first-person narration and taped interrogation transcripts—rises in fearsome suspense and culminates in a chilling, ambiguous climax. The short chapters and haunting tone grip students, and the layered themes offer rich ground for analysis. It’s a reading investment—challenging in structure and theme, but endlessly thought-provoking.

An unreliable narrator who is off his meds and suffering from that cheesy sort of selective amnesia that allows the author hide the parts of the story he's not ready to show yet goes on a bicycle road trip across New England, a quest to see his father.

The twists and turns of the plot aspire to be dramatic and shocking, but I was bored by the distance between revelations and their cornball and arbitrary nature when they did come. And don't get me started on that ending cribbed from The Wizard of Oz -- "You were there. And you were there."

From the first, I was curious about the narrator's age. Later in the story he says he is fourteen, though often he seems younger (as it turns out, there is a reason for this). The author employs three styles of narration: first person, third person, and interview transcript. The interviews, with a man called Brint, quickly take on a sinister tone: Adam correctly perceives that Brint is not a doctor, and Brint is evasive - he says he wants to help Adam fill in the blanks in his memory, and yet Adam realizes that Brint is more interested in certain "specifics" than he is in Adam's other memories. In addition, there is much talk of pills and needles (for sedation purposes, apparently).

The entire book centers around the character of Adam show more as he makes two parallel journeys: one on his bike, from Monument, MA to Rutterburg, VT, and the other into his past, trying to fill in the blanks, find out who he is and what happened to his parents. Through the interviews, his memory comes back to him: his family had been under government protection - an early version of the Witness Protection Program - after his father, a reporter, testified in court. Adam's real name is Paul Delmonte.

Not long after he learns of this from his parents and begins to adjust to the new reality, the Grey Man - allegedly the government agent in charge of keeping the family safe - calls the house and warns them they might have been exposed and ought to leave town for a few days. They pack the car and go. On their drive, Adam/Paul's father notices that they are being followed; they pull over and let the car go past them, and his father observes that it's "Grey's men," keeping an eye on them. But the car returns - with murderous intent. Adam sees his mother die; he does not see his father. Adam himself suffers severe trauma, such that three years later he is in a facility (not so much medical as government). His bike ride, we find out, is also fictional: he is merely riding around the grounds of the facility. (This revelation is similar to that in the movie The Usual Suspects, when the audience realizes that Kevin Spacey has invented the entire story out of clippings from a bulletin board.)

Brint is interviewing Adam to see what he remembers, and in the last few pages of the book is the "annual report" on Adam's condition, complete with "advisories": (1) that Adam ("Subject A") be "terminated," or, failing that, that he (3) remain in "confinement" until he can be terminated or until he "obliterates." (Advisory #2 is that Mr. Grey be reinstated as an agent.)

This is all rather cold and horrifying: to find out that you aren't who you thought you were (Paul Delmonte, not Adam Farmer) is identity-shaking enough, but then to realize - as Adam might, fuzzily, but as the reader can certainly piece together - that the governmental authority that was supposed to protect you in fact betrayed you. The facts alone are a dash of cold water, more poignant still as Adam is so alone and confused, never to grow up to have a solid identity or a normal life. show less

'I am the Cheese' is marketed to the Young Adult audience and indeed the protagonist is a teenager, but it’s a beautifully crafted mystery that can be enjoyed by older readers as well.

The narrative is written with alternating segments between a first person bicycle trip through several American states and the typed tape transcripts from an interview with a very frightened and traumatized young man.

The bike rider, Adam Farmet, and the young man appear to be the same person. His memories are slowly and painfully drawn out of him as the bike rider encounters one danger after another in his journey interstate.

Given it’s target audience this feels like a very sophisticated especially given that it was first published in the 1970s, the show more two storylines dovetail together almost seamlessly.

I am a very long way from this book's supposed target audience but nonetheless it kept me hooked right to the end and I devoured it in two sittings. There seems to be a disparity in the two boys ages and title is a little confusing, it certainly wouldn't have encouraged me to pick it off a store bookshelf, but thankfully it was given to me and it all made sense at the end. Overall an enjoyable read. show less

This book changed my life forever. It was the first example of proper literature I ever read. The dreadful no-win situation Adam Farmer was in, and the cold single-mindedness of Brint, continue to haunt me today. The ending was spectacular, leaving me dazed in its wake. Also impressive: Adam is a textbook case of post-traumatic stress disorder, but this book was written before the disorder was defined -- before the textbook, that is to say. I cannot recommend this enough. It's my default Christmas gift for people who won't tell me what to get them.