100 Books Like The Rider

This book continues to astound me. Flann O’Brien puts together such a surreal set of circumstances for his unnamed narrator that the book is hard to put down.

O’Brien doesn’t strike me as the Hunter Thompson type; this book made me wonder what they were brewing into the whiskey on the Emerald Isle. The improbability of the narrator’s criminal activity and the law enforcement response often seems like a fever dream, albeit a very entertaining one. Even though I now know the M. Knight Shyamalan twist, I still can re-read this book, thinking, “What’s next? What’s next?”

For the history-curious cyclists among us, I submit for your consideration David V. Herlihy’s excellently-researched and well-told history of the two-wheeled machine we love so much.

From its beginnings as a literal “bone shaker” (an iron frame on wooden wheels), to the impossibly-light machines of the 20th and 21st centuries, Herlihy’s tale of cycling commerce, commuting, and competition over time and across the world is as enlightening as it is entertaining.

I’ve turned to it again and again for its historical perspective (and its great photos).

One of the most compelling parts of this gem of a book are Adam Thompson’s immaculate line drawings that capture the artfulness, and beautiful simplicity, at the heart of a bicycle ride—their white space pulls you in and invites you to imagine the landscape and circumstances around them.

Bicycles, and the paths they forge, take many shapes, but in the hands of Fattaruso and Thompson those shapes take center stage, and the essence of bicycling shines.

It’s a lovely interlude that always makes me nostalgic for riding a single speed on a rural road at the height of summer.

If you’ve ever found yourself commuting by bicycle across a city on a wet winter’s night, or wondered about riding across the country, there are nuggets of raw truth and solidarity in the essays, interviews, stories, artwork, and poetry that compromise The Best of Boneshaker.

Ten years in the making, this throwback, almanac-inspired collection features contributors that range from Lee Ranaldo (of Sonic Youth) to writer Kjerstin Johnson, poets Michael Bazzett and Susan Moore, and Colorado Book Award-winning author and journalist Jonathan Waldman.

It’s been called a delightful companion for you and your bike, and for good reason. If you’re looking for inspiration to get out on your bike more often, it lies within these pocket-sized pages.  

I wasn’t following professional cycling in the bad old days of systematic doping, but this book made me feel like I was there—not just at the roadside, but in the peloton.

The characters—the good, the bad, and the downright repulsive, are all caught in a system that grinds down the best and brings out the worst, and I couldn’t look away. I wanted integrity to prevail, I wanted justice done, but most of all, I wanted to know what happened next.

Then there’s the prose, which is so bright and vivid that I found a new favourite line in almost every chapter. It’s compulsive, stylish, and cynical—rather like the sport itself.

For me, cycling has meant freedom. This book celebrates the bicycle as a tool for women’s emancipation. Microcosm Publishing has a strong track record (pun intended) in celebrating feminism, cycling, and the intersection of the two, and this is a particularly good example.

Set in a universe that seems to be just a jump away from our own, about a century and a half ago, it’s insightful on matters of class and wealth, too. I particularly enjoyed all the little details of fashion. I found myself rooting hard for the heroine in her struggle to ride a bike, not just competitively, but at all. And I was charmed by a love story I wasn’t expecting.

I thought I’d finish this list with something more directly relevant to me and the millions of others who cycle just for pleasure and transport.

This charming book, in which a young man takes a holiday from his tedious job and encounters an equally liberated young woman, dates from the early days of the bicycle, and for me, it still captures the sense of freedom, of horizons opening up, that I experienced myself when I really got into cycling.

For me, it had an extra layer of enjoyment: I used to live in Surrey, and even at over a century’s remove, I could recognise some of the towns and landscapes the protagonists travel through. I really enjoyed the journey!

I did a short promotional book tour with Max and was enthralled by his descriptions of road cycling’s obsession with the mountains.

I read his book subsequently and was equally captivated, particularly by his travels in remote areas of the southern French Alps and on Bonette-Restefond pass, the highest road pass in Europe.

This is possibly the worst cycling adventure ever undertaken. It makes my list because everything that can go wrong does. Her bicycle is too big. Everything is shut. There’s no hot water in the showers. Yet still they pedal on.

Even the Greek island cruise is a disaster.

Acerbic, honest, extremely non-PC, it’s a schadenfreude delight. I rather unkindly couldn’t wait for the next catastrophe to strike this couple, because it made me laugh so much.   

Tim has long been one of the funniest writers to cover the cycling scene and its many quirks.

All of his books are very readable, but this one stands out for me because it gets to the heart of the horrendous difficulties and dangers that riders in the early 20th century faced when racing in the mountains.

Tim follows the route of the 1914 Giro d’Italia, and does so on a bike from that era. His tales of how he came by bike and then builds up are hilariously recounted, then lead into the ride itself on what is widely recognized as the toughest multi-day race the sport has ever seen, only eight of 81 starters finishing the event. It’s laugh-out-loud funny.