Review: Byrne’s Book – Bicycle Diaries

‘A traveling incarceration. Immobile inside…seeing immobile things slip by. What is happening? Nothing is moving inside or outside the train.’ — Michel de Certeau

De Certeau said it best. He was writing about train travel but it is easy enough to substitute cars for trains and understand what this means in relation to daily life. The seats of cars have largely become our vantage point to the world, but the windows of cars are as restrictive as the roads they traverse. On the road our travel is restricted to the established route. We are fated to arrive (or to not arrive) only at a predestined ‘Point B.’ Behind windows, we become separate and isolated from a larger and, in many cases, more interesting world, gliding on grey ribbons from point to point allowed not interaction, but a superficial and detached survey of the space through which we move.

Driving in cars is a living death, a waking dream. I find this is a recurrent sub-theme in contemporary film, likely because this ‘dream’ is lived rather intensely by the Los Angelinos who are making so many of our films. I also suspect that thoughts similar to these are somewhere in David Byrne’s head, though I doubt that his language is equally harsh as I suspect Mr. Byrne to be a much nicer person than I. His book Bicycle Diaries is written from his perspective as a person who has largely used bicycles rather than cars as his preferred mode of transport for nearly thirty years. The general vibe of his book is positive with an upbeat, disarming quirkiness.

There is a minimum of proselytizing in Bicycle Diaries, something not easily said about much of today’s bicycle community. I don’t know why people are very often snobby about ‘being cyclists,’ but Byrne does not hint at feeling superior. Maybe this is because he hails from an era when bikes were not the cultural capital they are now, a time when bikes didn’t come from Urban Outfitters. Byrne never says ‘YOU NEED TO BE ON A BIKE’ instead he expresses his appreciation for the richness of experience afforded him by the decisions he has made regarding personal travel. This book takes pains to avoid being overly political. Instead the tone is more personal with the author striving to operate largely as an observer offering reflections.

When we are on a bike we not only move through space, for a moment we become part of it. This book is less about Byrne riding his bike than it is about what happens to him when he rides, his reactions to the people and spaces he engages. Keeping the professions(s) of artist/musician will keep one on the move, so Diaries is a collection of vignettes from various cities: London, Istanbul, Buenos Aires and of course, New York…Each section is tangential in its own way, variously diverging into brief meditations on music, art and the particular traits of people, much in the way that one would expect from a man who has spent his life working in the grey area between popular culture and art.

In Detroit Byrne reflects on urban decay and the bleak landscape seen from his saddle. The chapters on Buenos Aires and Berlin are especially interesting, as Byrne has spent a good bit of time in these cities, seeing art, making music, riding bikes and wondering over the scenes and histories.

The book was published last fall (2009, Viking) and sneaked past my radar. On Tuesday of last week I found myself at a local bookstore in search of the new book about a well-to-do young couple traveling the world. I had heard the author talking on NPR about taking a year to go around the world by land and sea, forsaking air travel and using ships to cross oceans. The premise was intriguing.

By chance I found Byrne’s book on the shelf (I was looking in the Travel section). The combination of the author’s name and the allusion to Guevara’s Motorcycle Diaries – intentional or not – captured my attention. It seemed that being a successful author who gets bored and goes on an expensive adventure is a fantastic daydream, while riding bikes in the city is something accessible, more down to earth. It is something that many of us already do with regularity; it is something that I do. Without hesitation I grabbed the book I know will be more interesting, more relevant and I pedal home.

Later, while reading the final pages of the book (hardcover, bound in bright orange) I am on the back porch listening to the soughing of giant trees in this old neighborhood. My fingers feel the black recessed areas on the cover that form the figure of a man riding a bicycle. The sun plays over the chrome fenders on a green bike leaning against the wooden fence that makes up the edge of this backyard. I feel the potential energy of the moment and it is overpowering, I’ve got to go.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, June 30th, 2010 at 11:18 am. It is filed under Culture and tagged with alternative modes of transportation, bicycle diaries, david byrne, leonard gath, reviews, travel writing. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.