By Grant Petersen
Rivendell Bicycle Works, Walnut Creek, CA
2023. 166 pages.
TL/DR
177 sentences in one book. It’s no Remembrance of Things Past, not exactly prolix by book standards, unless we’re discussing children’s books. As the book costs $20, you’re paying $0.11 a sentence. They better be pretty worthwhile sentences.
They largely are.
It’s not the length of the sentences nor the artistry of the prose that the book is relying on. It’s the thought-provoking nature of the sentences and the production values. It’s a nicely-produced, nice-looking volume, with a hard cover, nice paper, and quality illustrations.
A disposable paperback this is not.
Bicycle Sentences seems like a coffee table or café book, something that sits around in public view and people pick up to think or get inspiration by flipping through, stopping on a page, reading the sentence, and let it work on you, either by contemplating what’s there or reading it aloud to friends. It is not to read quickly—that is a recipe for disappointment.
I enjoyed it. Not every sentence was great, or insightful, or worthy of discussion. On the balance, the experiences it engenders is worthwhile. Bicycle Sentences is best taken as an occasional read, letting the sentences percolate on the brain or work in discussion with others.
The rest of the story.
I’m a fan of bike books. I have lots. I think people should read more of them. Writer, cyclist, yada, yada, yada, of course I’m going to write that.
The form of a book review often explains and justifies the book, obscuring the work and focusing on context. Who the writer is, why the person wrote it, how it fits into a larger picture. Often worthwhile things, but at the same time, it’s the book, when confronting it without everything else attached, that matters. If someone randomly came across the book and picked it up, it should be able to be good on its own, without everything else known or attached.
I wanted to try breaking down the format, partially just to see, partially because the format often feels that the notoriety of the author is one of the primary things that justifies reading the book. This grates because it seems that so many books that we know of out there are brand extension projects by celebrities (including politicians, artists, athletes) who are merely the face of a team project wherein the publisher makes sure that the book doesn’t fail—ghostwriters, careful edits, big publicity campaigns, and so on. The idea of the “author” writing as a singular voice is often lost in the corporate content production. Yes, corporate content can be as illuminating and entertaining as anything else, sometimes more so, but it’s hard swallowing the fiction of a singular author in many cases. Or that there’s a vision beyond making money. Most of this book niche is eminently forgettable, by a person who has little to say.
Grant Petersen is someone the bike world should know about
Peterson has many things to say. Dedicated cyclists should know him. Many already do. I’ve met him and have exchanged email with him as well. He ran Bridgestone Cycle USA into the 1990s, until they quit the American market. In that time, he, and/or those working with him, produced not only many beautiful, interesting bikes, but also memorable marketing campaigns that captured a certain kind of bike love. The company seemed to have a vision. The Bridgestone catalogues from that era were keepers. Petersen was zagging while much of the bike industry was zigging. Yes to mountain bikes, but not embracing suspension, and mixed feelings about integrated brifters. Their road bikes were known for not only excellent geometry and great lug work but having room for fatter road bike tires. When Bridgestone pulled up stakes, Petersen started the Rivendell Reader and Rivendell Bike Works, which is still around. In the early days, he was not only championing simple, comfortable, fast designs, but also things like beeswax as a natural Loctite and waxed cotton canvas bags.
Rivendell has found its niche as a purveyor of non-faddish steel bikes of their own design, and classic componentry, many of which they’ve had recreated. The stuff might look old, but Petersen is looking for timeless; something that seemed right not only yesterday, but seems right for today, and tomorrow, and years into the future. The shop seems to be a manifestation of Petersen’s outlook on bikes and life.
He’s the author of four other bike books, two of which are ride guides, and then he worked with a major publisher on Just Ride and Eat Bacon, Don’t Jog.
More recently, he got some love from The New Yorker. Arguably, this profile could put Rivendell into fad territory. If it keeps Rivendell in business, it’s a good thing.
However, the book came out well before the profile. It’s the kind of thing that would be an overnight bestseller if a billionaire “wrote” it. And the tome is very much a work of love. Petersen reports that the publisher of his earlier books turned it down, so he published it himself. And not a cheap, print-on-demand edition, but a lavish one. It’s great when people believe in their work enough to go ahead when gatekeepers say no. Gatekeepers, like many producers, are often looking for the easy sales, the sure things. At the same time, they might have some insight into their market.
Here, I think I agree with the publisher who turned him down. I don’t see this book as something that even a good marketing campaign could result in goosing sales. I don’t see enough people picking it out at a bookstore. I don’t see how they could get it in front of the enough of the right kind of people who would give it as a gift. Whether the buyer is buying it to give to someone else, or for herself, it’s not something I see most non-cyclists, or even casual cyclists knowing to look for. I want people to have the curiosity, the wherewithal, to pick up such a book. But maybe they don’t. Or maybe they just don’t have enough time—I don’t see this as something an algorithmically-generated search engine would put anywhere near the top of a search result, I don’t see this floating into view on Amazon, or any other mainstream bookseller. I could see this as something a bike shop might carry, but only if they have ample square footage, and the clientele, and maybe a coffee bar.
It’s a shame it seems so hard to sell this kind of book. I hope he’s made back his investment.
If you want to buy it, go to the source.