Book Review: No Beer On A Dead PlanetIf you are looking for a...
Book Review: No Beer On A Dead Planet
If you are looking for a first class read that fuses travel writing with the peculiarities of a skateboarder’s perspective on the imponderabilia of everyday exchanges, look no further. Jono Coote has crafted a beautifully written text on his travels through Australia and his skateboard trysts with marsupial colonised concrete bowls and scooter plagued skateparks. He provides us with a dreamy narrative that meanders between cultural history, beer soaked hedonism, and commentary on an ailing sore world. This is very much the travel account of a veteran skateboarder who values exploring urban detritus and the unusual eccentrics that occupy such spaces. Coote is an author who is at ease referencing both Robert M. Pirsig and Finbarr Saunders. We are given ample insight to his feelings and opinions as he readily encounters bigotry on the road with which his interlocutors assume, to their error, that he is in accordance with.
The book is full of beer and at times I felt slightly dehydrated as Coote recalls another sun drenched skate sweating off a hangover. But do not be mistaken, this is a thoughtful and engaging book that departs from the formulae of both travel and skate journalism. This is a book that raises questions about late modernity and our slide into ecological doom. It also posits a scathing assessment of Insta-tourism and the mindless pursuit of selfie-stick photo opportunities to #hashtag for venal and vane intentions. The writing is mindful of the transformations taking place in skateboarding and charts some recent losses from the culture with poignant melancholy. He talks of the death of Jake Phelps as another part of skateboarding’s ongoing metamorphosis.
“…another few stones rattled loose in skateboarding’s slow landslide from lifestyle to sport”
The book changes pace a few times. On arrival in Melbourne we hit a more permanent location. Amusing anecdotes about a job that only lasts a day, and the embarrassing vernacular of craft beers pepper this more settled part of the travelogue. In the final parts of the book the journeying moves to New Zealand and I learn much from these final chapters about the country and its skateboard terrain. Still Coote draws on all manner of insights discussing Grey Nomads, Haast’s Eagle, Peter Jackson’s Braindead, but we learn nothing of Steampunk. Perhaps one example indicates the ethos of this book more than any other. In touring Wanaka we are given an evocative appraisal of its instafamous willow tree. Impressed by its natural beauty but turned off by its tourist appeal, the author departs to the more rewarding concrete beauty of the local skatepark in which he finds a ready made community and mutual connections to friends around the world.
Another thing to note was the pleasure of the format. Published by Josh Sutton’s Indie publishing house Red Fez Books, the book is notable for its subtle but stylish typography. Beautifully illustrated by Lewis Brownlie, I especially enjoyed reading a physical book after trawling through so many online readings of this semester. Beyond the body of the text there is a useful bibliography and a comprehensive appendix of each skatepark visited with amusing and helpful comments. The book is sensibly priced at £10 and 10% of the profits go to the Ben Raemers Foundation. This is a book that truly comes from and is supported by skateboard culture, from author, to publisher, to bookseller.
Coote has a gravitas in his words. He laces his accounts with nods to mythic forces, pilgrimage, and absent gods. This style of writing brings to life the beauty of Australia, New Zealand, and our brief entry point in Taipei. But he also delivers the harsh and brutal banality of life on the road as a skateboarder. We are informed of disappointed treks to barely skateable locations, hours spent emptying a half filled pool, and a challenging wallride avoiding human excrement.
Coming as it does in the midst of the Covid lockdown, its release is tinged with irony. Recreational travel is a distant memory for many of us, and one not likely to return in the near future. It is therefore a true joy to be able to partake in this literary journey and revel in the pleasures of travel and skateboarding vicariously.
If you come across Jono Coote in your own skateboarding travels, buy the man a Holsten Pils and thank him for his efforts.
