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Need for the Bike
A book like no other, Frenchman Paul Fournel’s Need for the Bike conducts readers into a very personal world of communication and connection whose center is the bicycle, and where all people and things pass by way of the bike. In compact and suggestive prose, Fournel conveys the experience of cycling—from the initial charm of early outings to the dramas of the devoted cyclist.
An extended meditation on cycling as a practice of life, the book recalls a country doctor who will not anesthetize the young Fournel after he impales himself on a downtube shifter, speculates about the difference between animals that would like to ride bikes (dogs, for instance) and those that would prefer to watch (cows, marmots), and reflects on the fundamental absurdity of turning over the pedals mile after excruciating mile. At the same time, Fournel captures the sound, smell, feel, and language of the reality and history of cycling, in the mountains, in the city, escaping the city, in groups, alone, suffering, exhausted, exhilarated.
In his attention to the pleasures of cycling, to the specific “grain” of different cycling experiences, and to the inscription of these experiences in the body’s cycling memory, Fournel portrays cycling as a descriptive universe, colorful, lyrical, inclusive, exclusive, complete.
An extended meditation on cycling as a practice of life, the book recalls a country doctor who will not anesthetize the young Fournel after he impales himself on a downtube shifter, speculates about the difference between animals that would like to ride bikes (dogs, for instance) and those that would prefer to watch (cows, marmots), and reflects on the fundamental absurdity of turning over the pedals mile after excruciating mile. At the same time, Fournel captures the sound, smell, feel, and language of the reality and history of cycling, in the mountains, in the city, escaping the city, in groups, alone, suffering, exhausted, exhilarated.
In his attention to the pleasures of cycling, to the specific “grain” of different cycling experiences, and to the inscription of these experiences in the body’s cycling memory, Fournel portrays cycling as a descriptive universe, colorful, lyrical, inclusive, exclusive, complete.
150 pages, Paperback
First published April 21, 2001
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 69 reviews
December 2, 2023
An exquisite piece of writing (nay, literature) waxing eloquent about one of my favorite topics. I'm embarrassed that it took me so long to finally (get my hands on and) read (nay, savor) the book, but I'm glad I finally did.
It's a beautiful book about bicycles and cycling and riding and bike culture and community and (a unique type of) relationships and the highs and lows, the joys and sorrows, the agony and the ecstasy, as it were ... but it's also a craftsman's (nay, an artist's) piece of writing, a gloriously evocative reading experience.
I have no doubt the author has spent more time in the saddle than I have, but ... like he (and so many others) I learned to ride early, and a bicycle meant not just freedom, but a freedom to explore, to go (and get to) places you couldn't get on foot (and you wouldn't get in a car for many years). And yes, the bike was transportation, but it was also a beast of burden ... the first bike I spent my own money on had racks for delivering newspapers (which, of course, paid for the bike in short order). And like the author, over the years the bikes changed (and not just the frames, from steel to aluminum to carbon ... but wheels and tires and gearing and shifting (and, yes, today, electronic, wireless shifting, oh my) and brakes (yes, today, disc brakes) and racks and panniers and lighting systems and everything in between, including, for many years, a tandem. All of which makes the bikes a kaleidoscope of ever changing companions correlated to, well, life.
One of the most resonant aspects of the perspective is how different cycling is locally (or on familiar roads) and, well, elsewhere.... I haven't tried to carefully count the number of States I've ridden in (but, from West to East, I could draw a crooked line from Alaska through California, Nevada, Arizona, Colorado, and Texas, to Florida, with at least another half-dozen on the East Coast and a handful others here and there), and, at some point, I'm curious to catalog where I've ridden abroad (and my initial list includes Chile, France, Germany, Ghana, Israel, Italy, Switzerland, Thailand, the UK, and Uruguay), but, yes, there's no better way to get to know a place, and, as for riding, it's very much a, well, way of life....
For me the book was a sublime piece of music, and I recommend it without hesitation.
Useless, quirky trivia: My sense is that this is the very first book I ever added to my want to read shelf or to-read queue on Goodreads ... and, despite that, there is stayed for well in excess of a decade. I never found it in a library, bookstore (or used book store/sale), and I continued to delude myself that ... given how beloved the piece was ... someday one would come into my possession. Alas. I should have just ordered/bought a copy ages ago. Now, at least, I'm glad I finally did.
It's a beautiful book about bicycles and cycling and riding and bike culture and community and (a unique type of) relationships and the highs and lows, the joys and sorrows, the agony and the ecstasy, as it were ... but it's also a craftsman's (nay, an artist's) piece of writing, a gloriously evocative reading experience.
I have no doubt the author has spent more time in the saddle than I have, but ... like he (and so many others) I learned to ride early, and a bicycle meant not just freedom, but a freedom to explore, to go (and get to) places you couldn't get on foot (and you wouldn't get in a car for many years). And yes, the bike was transportation, but it was also a beast of burden ... the first bike I spent my own money on had racks for delivering newspapers (which, of course, paid for the bike in short order). And like the author, over the years the bikes changed (and not just the frames, from steel to aluminum to carbon ... but wheels and tires and gearing and shifting (and, yes, today, electronic, wireless shifting, oh my) and brakes (yes, today, disc brakes) and racks and panniers and lighting systems and everything in between, including, for many years, a tandem. All of which makes the bikes a kaleidoscope of ever changing companions correlated to, well, life.
One of the most resonant aspects of the perspective is how different cycling is locally (or on familiar roads) and, well, elsewhere.... I haven't tried to carefully count the number of States I've ridden in (but, from West to East, I could draw a crooked line from Alaska through California, Nevada, Arizona, Colorado, and Texas, to Florida, with at least another half-dozen on the East Coast and a handful others here and there), and, at some point, I'm curious to catalog where I've ridden abroad (and my initial list includes Chile, France, Germany, Ghana, Israel, Italy, Switzerland, Thailand, the UK, and Uruguay), but, yes, there's no better way to get to know a place, and, as for riding, it's very much a, well, way of life....
For me the book was a sublime piece of music, and I recommend it without hesitation.
Useless, quirky trivia: My sense is that this is the very first book I ever added to my want to read shelf or to-read queue on Goodreads ... and, despite that, there is stayed for well in excess of a decade. I never found it in a library, bookstore (or used book store/sale), and I continued to delude myself that ... given how beloved the piece was ... someday one would come into my possession. Alas. I should have just ordered/bought a copy ages ago. Now, at least, I'm glad I finally did.
March 8, 2011
What a fantastic little book! For cyclists, reading this book is the next best thing to being on a bicycle. Fournel captures the joys, frustrations, and pure exhilaration of bicycling in the charming droll way that only a Frenchman can. For example: "Every cyclist, even a beginner, knows that at any moment in his life he could have a rendezvous with a door. . . As an urban cyclist, I have a complete collection." What a funny and poetic way to write about getting doored (which is not at all a poetic experience, as those who have experienced it firsthand know)! And this: "The difference between bike and flight is that the bike is possible, and flight isn't, yet."
Overlook all the insider references to former French Tour de France champs and gear ratios, and I think anyone who's ever ridden a bicycle will find something to enjoy in this book -- something familiar and true about the essence of cycling that transcends your level of commitment to the sport. Each chapter is a few pages long, so this book is perfect bathroom reading material -- which is where I first found it, at a friend's house. I'm so glad I did, and I hope you check it out too.
Overlook all the insider references to former French Tour de France champs and gear ratios, and I think anyone who's ever ridden a bicycle will find something to enjoy in this book -- something familiar and true about the essence of cycling that transcends your level of commitment to the sport. Each chapter is a few pages long, so this book is perfect bathroom reading material -- which is where I first found it, at a friend's house. I'm so glad I did, and I hope you check it out too.
April 9, 2020
,,Op zijn zadel is de fietser een ander mens." Een sneller, beter, vrolijker, verrukter variant. Maar ook een die het andere moment hondsmoe, leeg, afgeschminkt, klagerig en vergeten is. Wat een geweldig boek. Wat een ontdekking. Wat een schrijver. Ik heb geen moment aan 'De renner' van Krabbé hoeven denken, dit boek staat op zich. Met uitzondering van het eerste hoofdstuk over het leren fietsen en het vallen, was het verderop, eenmaal opgestaan en in beweging, alsof ik mijn kuiten spande, mijn pijnlijke rug strekte, de lucht snoof, in het wiel probeerde te blijven en naar de koeien in de weilanden aan het kijken was. Dat en zoveel meer brengt dit boek teweeg. Zinnenprikkelend, herkenbaar, invoelbaar, universeel. Een paar redactionele haperingen en die zuinige, wat voorspelbare titel - hoeveel mooier is-ie in het Frans en in het Engels - daargelaten, is dit een boek om hopelijk voor altijd uit te citeren, om de bevriende fietsende mens en de niet-fietsende soortgenoten (die van Krabbé) voor te houden.
May 1, 2020
Akıcı bir dili var. Bisiklet sporuna tutkuyla bağlı olanlar kitabı içselleştirip çok beğenecektir.
April 17, 2018
“I’m sure I need the bike more than I need victories. I’d like to grow old as a cyclist. In ten, twenty years I’d like to go out for a spin with Jean-Noel, with Remy, with Sebastien.
Already I don’t go as fast as before, but since I threw my speed to the four winds and never transformed it into bouquets or cheques, it still lurks in the air of the mountains, and I breath it in like an old perfume.”
This book is a beautiful ode to that most sincere of loves: the bike. If you’re a cyclist this book will produce knowing chuckles, paroxysms of pain from old injuries long- healed and, maybe, just maybe, a little stirring in your soul.
For anyone else, no one writes about cycling quite like Fournel.
Already I don’t go as fast as before, but since I threw my speed to the four winds and never transformed it into bouquets or cheques, it still lurks in the air of the mountains, and I breath it in like an old perfume.”
This book is a beautiful ode to that most sincere of loves: the bike. If you’re a cyclist this book will produce knowing chuckles, paroxysms of pain from old injuries long- healed and, maybe, just maybe, a little stirring in your soul.
For anyone else, no one writes about cycling quite like Fournel.
June 25, 2025
"(...) when the landscape allows itself to be seen and not 'to be', on a bike I'm sitting inside it.
There is in the bike an animal relatoin to the world: the mountains you see are there to be scaled, the valleys are for hurtling down into, the shade is made for hiding in and for getting on with." 🚲❤️
There is in the bike an animal relatoin to the world: the mountains you see are there to be scaled, the valleys are for hurtling down into, the shade is made for hiding in and for getting on with." 🚲❤️
January 5, 2020
Une déclaration d’amour au vélo, mais aussi au voyage, à la douleur, à la nature, à l’effort, au corps,...
August 2, 2020
Ja, daarom fiets ik! Daar gaat dit boekje over... En nog goed geschreven ook!
January 24, 2022
Heel wat pareltjes in dit boekje. Gelezen met een grote glimlach; vanwege de herkenbaarheid, vanwege de geniale vondsten en de combinatie daarvan. Met recht een klassieker!
February 20, 2022
Utterly mesmerising
December 30, 2023
A great book that will resonate with anyone rides a road bike. Fournel crafts his sentences so well- some are poetic.
September 11, 2025
You need a map of france when you read especially Lyon-St.Etienne region.
June 28, 2009
The first of two cycling "classics" that I've read in the last week, the other being "The Rider". It's interesting that both this book and "The Rider" were written from a first person perspective by devoted amateurs that have fascinating back stories. In the case of Fournel, he is better known as a member of the French cultural elite - a writer, a poet, publisher, scholar. Wrote his dissertation on Raymond Queneau and went on to join Oulipo.
The book has the velocity and smooth lines of the machine. Anyone who has ridden much knows that thoughts come as riddles, parables, definitive but fleeting insights. A logic of simple gearing and ratios rather than elaborate introspection or dialectic. Fournel captures those fleeting, somewhat ineffable moments of elation that are part of the bicycles phenomenology.
Of climbs in general and Ventoux in particular: "It's the greatest revelation of your-self. It simply feeds back your fatigue and fear. It has a total knowledge of the shape you're in, your capacity for cycling happiness, and for happiness in general. It's yourself you're climbing. If you don't want to know, stay at the bottom."
Of suffering: "Everyone can remember the leaden days when, suddenly, for no reason, the bike freezes, blocked on the asphalt. Those days of cold sweat, days when the fruit rots in your pockets and when, very quickly, a dull anguish seizes your heart."
On the class of certain riders: "they're so beautiful that they're a kind of living lie" or "you have to impress your adversary with your elegance. to look good is already to go fast."
On the point of cycling: "climbing to descend, going in circles, behind this mountain there's another, why hurry? ... Riding is absurd, like peeling vegetables, skiing, thinking deeply, or living."
And, finally, poignantly, on need and desire: "To create a desire for something one needs is to engage in a labor of human happiness. Need is a demanding and obscure thing that defines the dependence of one person on another. To identify it and want it is to define oneself as a person. That's the secret of culture, the secret of cuisine, the secret of kindness. It's also the secret of tiny Fournel on his bike in the vast countryside, miraculously in equilibrium on his two wheels, trying to catch his own shadow."
And that's it, finally - this is a book about a cipher ... it could as easily be the need for a pastry, the hundredth "final" cigarette, an orgasm, as for the bike. But few other needs have the same pure, nostalgic majesty or connect to the first realization of the limits and possibilities of inchoate freedom.
The book has the velocity and smooth lines of the machine. Anyone who has ridden much knows that thoughts come as riddles, parables, definitive but fleeting insights. A logic of simple gearing and ratios rather than elaborate introspection or dialectic. Fournel captures those fleeting, somewhat ineffable moments of elation that are part of the bicycles phenomenology.
Of climbs in general and Ventoux in particular: "It's the greatest revelation of your-self. It simply feeds back your fatigue and fear. It has a total knowledge of the shape you're in, your capacity for cycling happiness, and for happiness in general. It's yourself you're climbing. If you don't want to know, stay at the bottom."
Of suffering: "Everyone can remember the leaden days when, suddenly, for no reason, the bike freezes, blocked on the asphalt. Those days of cold sweat, days when the fruit rots in your pockets and when, very quickly, a dull anguish seizes your heart."
On the class of certain riders: "they're so beautiful that they're a kind of living lie" or "you have to impress your adversary with your elegance. to look good is already to go fast."
On the point of cycling: "climbing to descend, going in circles, behind this mountain there's another, why hurry? ... Riding is absurd, like peeling vegetables, skiing, thinking deeply, or living."
And, finally, poignantly, on need and desire: "To create a desire for something one needs is to engage in a labor of human happiness. Need is a demanding and obscure thing that defines the dependence of one person on another. To identify it and want it is to define oneself as a person. That's the secret of culture, the secret of cuisine, the secret of kindness. It's also the secret of tiny Fournel on his bike in the vast countryside, miraculously in equilibrium on his two wheels, trying to catch his own shadow."
And that's it, finally - this is a book about a cipher ... it could as easily be the need for a pastry, the hundredth "final" cigarette, an orgasm, as for the bike. But few other needs have the same pure, nostalgic majesty or connect to the first realization of the limits and possibilities of inchoate freedom.
December 13, 2020
Most books about cycling tend to be about technique or memoirs/biographies of the minor characters and giants who inhabit the sport (there is a burgeoning literature, for example, about how big of an asshole Lance Armstrong really is). But there are a small number of books that deal with the personal - and dare I say, spiritual - aspect of cycling. Those who call themselves "cyclists" have a near-mystical connection with the act of cycling, and only a few authors have managed to capture this paradoxically obsessive and meditative experience. Tim Krabbé is one, in his masterful "The Rider." This book is another. Only Europeans can write about cycling this way, and this is a particularly good translation. As a enthusiastic amateur cycling, I could nevertheless see my own private struggles and glories reflected on every page.
May 19, 2021
The perfect book for bathroom reading. That is to say, each "story" is only one or two pages in length on fairly small pages so it only takes a few minutes to read one of the pieces.
I'm more inclined to read longer works but find this to be a fine book to pick up and put down whenever I feel like it. The writing is good, extremely personal in that it is all from the author's point of view documenting his experiences on his bicycle(s), and often turns to Fournel's interior world.
I don't read French and so only have contact with this translation by Allan Stoekl. It may be (and probably is) true that the original is better but I can't say for sure.
It's a very fine book to read how someone else sees the world in light of riding a bicycle. Granted, Fournel rides a road bike and so everything is written from that perspective.
All in all a good read.
I'm more inclined to read longer works but find this to be a fine book to pick up and put down whenever I feel like it. The writing is good, extremely personal in that it is all from the author's point of view documenting his experiences on his bicycle(s), and often turns to Fournel's interior world.
I don't read French and so only have contact with this translation by Allan Stoekl. It may be (and probably is) true that the original is better but I can't say for sure.
It's a very fine book to read how someone else sees the world in light of riding a bicycle. Granted, Fournel rides a road bike and so everything is written from that perspective.
All in all a good read.
March 9, 2013
The best part of this book is Paul Fournel's style. He puts the reader beside him, talking to him in all of his stories. Each vignette is no more than 4 pages long and crystallizes a piece of bicycling culture for the reader to savour. My only criticism of Fournel's work is that he focuses on recreational cycling to the detriment of the non-recreational variety. Regardless, if you're a commuter or a tourer you'll see your own cycling experiences in these pages.
December 13, 2015
Like the best of rides. Slim, regenerative prose. Fournel is rider, writer, and neither. The book manifests a sweet kernel of wisdom - that artwork is a tangent - a product of other aesthetic acts. Moments of lossness. Self-erasures. Vanishings. Also, it's funny like the writings of old French dudes tend to be.
June 7, 2023
As an avid cyclist: absolutely loved this. Beautiful prose that's probably not to everyone's taste, but to me it appropriately romanticizes bikes and riding them... riding them a lot.
There's plenty of referencing pro cycling heroes of yore and my knowledge of them isn't that great, but that didn't take much away from my enjoyment of this thing.
There's plenty of referencing pro cycling heroes of yore and my knowledge of them isn't that great, but that didn't take much away from my enjoyment of this thing.
May 18, 2007
This book beautifully captures the love of all things cycling. It's a series of essays that give a passionate voice to what the author loves about bicycles and bicycling. If you are bike-obsessed you will love it. If not, you'll probably think the author is crazy.
October 4, 2012
I've read Fournel's book three times. If you're a cyclist, READ THIS BOOK!. It's a great book that truly conveys the joy of cycling. My only regret is the author doesn't live nearby. I'd love to ride with Paul.
September 2, 2019
Perhaps the most profound guide to cycling
Poetic, fragmented, colourful, lyrical. Cycling in all its glories big, small and in-between explained and illustrated in a beautifully evocative paean to the magic of two wheels and the rider. Highly recommended
Poetic, fragmented, colourful, lyrical. Cycling in all its glories big, small and in-between explained and illustrated in a beautifully evocative paean to the magic of two wheels and the rider. Highly recommended
August 9, 2012
Mini essays on cycling that capture so many timeless and universal qualities. Glad to be able to read during cycling season. Would be tragedy in winter.
February 3, 2013
Perhaps the best book ever to explain why we love to ride. must have for any cyclist and cyclist spouse
September 23, 2014
Is this the most beautiful meditation on cycling ever written? An unanswerable question, but let it hang there like a irresistible challenge.
August 25, 2022
My 13th foray into cycling texts, and what a lucky pick! This is on Velominati's required reading list and it's a solid entry.
It's at once a dad book (but not just because of its humor – a father might recognize his son, or vice-versa here), a book for the aging (you sense Fournier is in his 50s, looking back and looking forward simultaneously, as peeple do in that period), and a book of reflection that gives purpose to an activity you either get or you don't.
Ever seen the progression of friends chart for a cyclist? In teens and 20s, he/she's got the most friends and social connections they'll have. These are the people who get me, who really cares. And over the years these symbols representing friends are whittled down until they include just one symbol: a bicycle.
The book is meant for that person. Fournier's first real bike was a green racer: I identified with that. Down to wrapping my bars with green tape. He picked up cycling from his father: how many of us find it without him? He goes on to ask questions you have or might never have considered: why do I keep doing this? Why didn't I become a racer? Why is it that we become stationary and hate it, hoping only to return to the bike? Why do we buy pretty and expensive bikes when in reality only the pros need them?
Some answers are straightforward. We loathe getting pudgy. We only feel alive if we feel we're returning to a level of fitness (and you'll only know that by painful struggle that's eventually lessened). Other answers more humorous or philosophical. Some sections are Rod McKuen woo~woo (but hey, even that appeals to the cyclist who got cycling love from his father and love of the printed word from his mother) depictions of the senses and how they connect to time in the saddle. Others still are humorous or touching (non-spoiler: he pursues another cyclist to demand his shorts because of what's written on them; another time he sneaks into a pro tour and chats up a racer who he finds depressing but encourages him nonetheless... until the race marshals pull him off the road) in ways that might resonate with your mind but otherwise just remind you that cycling is fun and complex.
I frequently see this book compared with The Rider. It's French/Belgique; it's small (150 neat pages); it's drawn directly from the writer's experiences; it has humor and reflections on life. But it diverges in this: it's like a little _Hagakure: The Way of the Samurai_ for the enthusiast. That experience you have on a ride that gets a mention during your afternoon beer gets a mention. That memory of your early rides with a parent gets a mention. That point in your life where you realize the sport is part of your psyche: It's here.
This is one of those old books that doesn't go off to the jail library. Not only because it'd be tragic to imagine a prisoner reading it, but because this thin volume is destined to be re-read a few times for inspiration and a laugh. Also: with an inscription, this would be a fine birthday/Christmas gift for the fellow cyclist.
It's at once a dad book (but not just because of its humor – a father might recognize his son, or vice-versa here), a book for the aging (you sense Fournier is in his 50s, looking back and looking forward simultaneously, as peeple do in that period), and a book of reflection that gives purpose to an activity you either get or you don't.
Ever seen the progression of friends chart for a cyclist? In teens and 20s, he/she's got the most friends and social connections they'll have. These are the people who get me, who really cares. And over the years these symbols representing friends are whittled down until they include just one symbol: a bicycle.
The book is meant for that person. Fournier's first real bike was a green racer: I identified with that. Down to wrapping my bars with green tape. He picked up cycling from his father: how many of us find it without him? He goes on to ask questions you have or might never have considered: why do I keep doing this? Why didn't I become a racer? Why is it that we become stationary and hate it, hoping only to return to the bike? Why do we buy pretty and expensive bikes when in reality only the pros need them?
Some answers are straightforward. We loathe getting pudgy. We only feel alive if we feel we're returning to a level of fitness (and you'll only know that by painful struggle that's eventually lessened). Other answers more humorous or philosophical. Some sections are Rod McKuen woo~woo (but hey, even that appeals to the cyclist who got cycling love from his father and love of the printed word from his mother) depictions of the senses and how they connect to time in the saddle. Others still are humorous or touching (non-spoiler: he pursues another cyclist to demand his shorts because of what's written on them; another time he sneaks into a pro tour and chats up a racer who he finds depressing but encourages him nonetheless... until the race marshals pull him off the road) in ways that might resonate with your mind but otherwise just remind you that cycling is fun and complex.
I frequently see this book compared with The Rider. It's French/Belgique; it's small (150 neat pages); it's drawn directly from the writer's experiences; it has humor and reflections on life. But it diverges in this: it's like a little _Hagakure: The Way of the Samurai_ for the enthusiast. That experience you have on a ride that gets a mention during your afternoon beer gets a mention. That memory of your early rides with a parent gets a mention. That point in your life where you realize the sport is part of your psyche: It's here.
This is one of those old books that doesn't go off to the jail library. Not only because it'd be tragic to imagine a prisoner reading it, but because this thin volume is destined to be re-read a few times for inspiration and a laugh. Also: with an inscription, this would be a fine birthday/Christmas gift for the fellow cyclist.
July 21, 2020
De Renner wordt over het algemeen beschouwd als het beste wielerboek. Geen enkel boek kwam dichterbij het gevoel dat een wielrenner op de fiets ervaart. Maar al in 2001 schreef Paul Fournel dit pareltje dat Tim Krabbé’s boek op zijn minst benadert. Anders dan in De Renner schrijft Fournel korte, bij vlagen filosofische en tegelijkertijd uiterst realistische verhalen over het gevoel dat een renner beleeft wanneer hij fiets. Dat de schrijver veel kilometers gemaakt heeft en veel facetten van het wielrennen intens heeft beleefd springt van de bladzijden.
Zo omschrijft hij prachtig dat fietsen meer is dan de simpele beweging, het verplaatsen van A naar B. “Wanneer je bij inspanningen en plezier op de boodschappen van je lichaam blijft letten, kun je op de je fiets een elegante innerlijke reis maken. Een reis die nooit eindigt, een permanente opleiding, een voortdurende bijscholing. De dialoog die je met je dijen voert is een rijke dialoog die je helpt je grenzen vast te stellen, je uithoudingsvermogen te vergroten, pijn te verdragen en het onverdraaglijke te herkennen.”
En als je met anderen fiets, wel of niet in competitie, weet Fournel dat je jezelf tegenkomt in hoe sterk de andere renner is, want, zo zegt hij: “De hel, dat is de snelheid van de anderen.” Pijnlijk herkenbaar als wielrenner.
Een niet-fietser kan soms amper de schoonheid en de intensiteit van het wielrennen begrijpen. Soms zal een wielrenner zijn frustraties na een zware rit per ongeluk tegen een leek uiten die zich vervolgens onwetend en achteloos luidop zou kunnen afvragen :“Waarom hou je niet op met fietsen na zo’n diepe inzinking?” Het antwoord van Fournel leidt ons terug naar de essentie van wielrenner, het pijn leiden. Hij schrijft: “Omdat een inzinking een reis is, en een fietser is boven alles een reiziger.”
Behalve de innerlijke reis en de pijn is er ook het in je opnemen van het landschap waarin je fietst. Nergens beleef je de omgeving zo goed als op de fiets. In de auto ga je te snel. Lopend zie je te weinig. Fournel: “Door op een fiets te stappen, neem je bezit van het landschap.” Als ik op vakantie ben heb ik het gevoel dat ik de omgeving pas echt in me opneem als ik een rondje ben gaan fietsen. Misschien is het meest opmerkelijke wel dat de indrukken op de fiets intenser zijn. Ze blijven me lang bij. Nu nog kan ik mijn ogen sluiten en gedeeltes van mijn ritten in de Eiffel, de Alpen of in Limburg tevoorschijn halen. Ze zijn, inderdaad, mijn bezit geworden.
En ja, fietsen kan soms dagenlang ploeteren zijn. Het gevoel dat er ooit is geweest en waarvan je weet dat het ooit terug zal keren, keert maar niet terug. Een vormdip. Maar dan opeens: “En dan, op een ochtend, heb je het gevoel alsof je uit een gevangenis komt. De lucht die dezelfde was als het jaar daarvoor lijkt lichter, het landschap ontplooit zich en aan de voet van het gebergte heb je het gevoel op je plaats te zijn. Je houdt van de helling die je beklimt en om dat te vieren zet je er twee tandjes bij en voert het tempo op. Je bent in vorm.” En wat voel je je dan goed. Ultiem geluk, zeker als ook nog eens de zon schijnt, maar eigenlijk maakt dat dan niet eens zoveel meer uit.
Fournel heeft één van de mooiste wielerboeken geschreven en hij heeft dit in wezen op zijn fiets gedaan. De fiets is een perfect instrument om de woorden op een rijtje te zetten, ook voor Fournel: “Een fiets is een goede werkplaats voor een schrijver. Allereerst blijft hij zitten, daarnaast verkeert hij in een winderige stilte die de hersens verfrist en tot meditatie aanspoort, en tot slot fabriceert hij met zijn benen een aantal verschillende ritmes die evengoed voor poëzie als voor proza muziek zijn.”
Een prachtige leeservaring voor wielerliefhebbers en wie weet, voor de ander menssoorten onder ons, een aanleiding om de fiets eens vaker te pakken.
Zo omschrijft hij prachtig dat fietsen meer is dan de simpele beweging, het verplaatsen van A naar B. “Wanneer je bij inspanningen en plezier op de boodschappen van je lichaam blijft letten, kun je op de je fiets een elegante innerlijke reis maken. Een reis die nooit eindigt, een permanente opleiding, een voortdurende bijscholing. De dialoog die je met je dijen voert is een rijke dialoog die je helpt je grenzen vast te stellen, je uithoudingsvermogen te vergroten, pijn te verdragen en het onverdraaglijke te herkennen.”
En als je met anderen fiets, wel of niet in competitie, weet Fournel dat je jezelf tegenkomt in hoe sterk de andere renner is, want, zo zegt hij: “De hel, dat is de snelheid van de anderen.” Pijnlijk herkenbaar als wielrenner.
Een niet-fietser kan soms amper de schoonheid en de intensiteit van het wielrennen begrijpen. Soms zal een wielrenner zijn frustraties na een zware rit per ongeluk tegen een leek uiten die zich vervolgens onwetend en achteloos luidop zou kunnen afvragen :“Waarom hou je niet op met fietsen na zo’n diepe inzinking?” Het antwoord van Fournel leidt ons terug naar de essentie van wielrenner, het pijn leiden. Hij schrijft: “Omdat een inzinking een reis is, en een fietser is boven alles een reiziger.”
Behalve de innerlijke reis en de pijn is er ook het in je opnemen van het landschap waarin je fietst. Nergens beleef je de omgeving zo goed als op de fiets. In de auto ga je te snel. Lopend zie je te weinig. Fournel: “Door op een fiets te stappen, neem je bezit van het landschap.” Als ik op vakantie ben heb ik het gevoel dat ik de omgeving pas echt in me opneem als ik een rondje ben gaan fietsen. Misschien is het meest opmerkelijke wel dat de indrukken op de fiets intenser zijn. Ze blijven me lang bij. Nu nog kan ik mijn ogen sluiten en gedeeltes van mijn ritten in de Eiffel, de Alpen of in Limburg tevoorschijn halen. Ze zijn, inderdaad, mijn bezit geworden.
En ja, fietsen kan soms dagenlang ploeteren zijn. Het gevoel dat er ooit is geweest en waarvan je weet dat het ooit terug zal keren, keert maar niet terug. Een vormdip. Maar dan opeens: “En dan, op een ochtend, heb je het gevoel alsof je uit een gevangenis komt. De lucht die dezelfde was als het jaar daarvoor lijkt lichter, het landschap ontplooit zich en aan de voet van het gebergte heb je het gevoel op je plaats te zijn. Je houdt van de helling die je beklimt en om dat te vieren zet je er twee tandjes bij en voert het tempo op. Je bent in vorm.” En wat voel je je dan goed. Ultiem geluk, zeker als ook nog eens de zon schijnt, maar eigenlijk maakt dat dan niet eens zoveel meer uit.
Fournel heeft één van de mooiste wielerboeken geschreven en hij heeft dit in wezen op zijn fiets gedaan. De fiets is een perfect instrument om de woorden op een rijtje te zetten, ook voor Fournel: “Een fiets is een goede werkplaats voor een schrijver. Allereerst blijft hij zitten, daarnaast verkeert hij in een winderige stilte die de hersens verfrist en tot meditatie aanspoort, en tot slot fabriceert hij met zijn benen een aantal verschillende ritmes die evengoed voor poëzie als voor proza muziek zijn.”
Een prachtige leeservaring voor wielerliefhebbers en wie weet, voor de ander menssoorten onder ons, een aanleiding om de fiets eens vaker te pakken.
September 14, 2019
I picked this up having read Fournel's part-biography, part- poetic character study of Anquetil earlier in the year having been engrossed and enchanted by the richness of language and the deep understanding of Maitre Jacques. So I was keen to see how he would follow this up, and I was not to be disappointed.
This book is made up of short (often between 2 and 4 pages long) reflections on what it is to be a cyclist and the experience of riding a bike whether in a race, a Sunday morning group ride or a solitary commute around Paris and everything in between. It is no surprise that, taking Fournel's role as a philosopher, writer and poet, the descriptions are beautifully realised, but really it is his role- or his actual identity- as a cyclist that overrides (no pun intended) all. My favourite writing on cycling all seems to stem from France (Jean Bobet's "Tomorrow We Ride" for example) and this is another beautiful combination of French literary panache and the nation's deeply embedded love of the bike. Time and again, reading through the book, I was struck by how Fournel was able to put onto paper the conscious and unconscious thoughts and experiences that seem universal to anyone who has ever thrown their leg over a saddle. There are moments of recognition, and moments of revelation, where you suddenly see in front of you thoughts you didn't know you had but are revealed like an epiphany as you turn a page.
I cannot recommend this work highly enough, and it certainly puts a lot of poorer writing about cycling (certain Team Sky/ INEOS riders and their "auto" biographies with the emphasis on pub crawls, I am looking at you!) into the shade. I hark back to David Coventry's "The Invisible Mile" where beautifully crafted individual sentences on their own are not enough to add to an intellectual and creatively interesting whole, and am very relieved to see that Fournel is a worthy addition alongside the names of Krabbé and Bobet in the canon of cycling writing.
This book is made up of short (often between 2 and 4 pages long) reflections on what it is to be a cyclist and the experience of riding a bike whether in a race, a Sunday morning group ride or a solitary commute around Paris and everything in between. It is no surprise that, taking Fournel's role as a philosopher, writer and poet, the descriptions are beautifully realised, but really it is his role- or his actual identity- as a cyclist that overrides (no pun intended) all. My favourite writing on cycling all seems to stem from France (Jean Bobet's "Tomorrow We Ride" for example) and this is another beautiful combination of French literary panache and the nation's deeply embedded love of the bike. Time and again, reading through the book, I was struck by how Fournel was able to put onto paper the conscious and unconscious thoughts and experiences that seem universal to anyone who has ever thrown their leg over a saddle. There are moments of recognition, and moments of revelation, where you suddenly see in front of you thoughts you didn't know you had but are revealed like an epiphany as you turn a page.
I cannot recommend this work highly enough, and it certainly puts a lot of poorer writing about cycling (certain Team Sky/ INEOS riders and their "auto" biographies with the emphasis on pub crawls, I am looking at you!) into the shade. I hark back to David Coventry's "The Invisible Mile" where beautifully crafted individual sentences on their own are not enough to add to an intellectual and creatively interesting whole, and am very relieved to see that Fournel is a worthy addition alongside the names of Krabbé and Bobet in the canon of cycling writing.
April 13, 2022
Within a few months, then, I learned riding and reading, in that order. At the Christmas of my fifth year, I was a complete man: I knew my work and my pastime. (s. 25)
Ranskalaisen Paul Fournelin "Need for a Bike" (Pursuit Books, 2019) sisältää pyöräilyä käsitteleviä esseitä tai jonkinlaisia novellintapaisia, jossa on voimakas omaelämäkerrallinen sävy. Viehättävistä ja kielellisesti rikkaista tunnelmapalasista välittyy aito rakkaus lajia kohtaan. Taidanpa lukea jossakin vaiheessa myös kirjailijan kehutun mestaripyöräilijän elämäkerran Anquetil, Alone!
Ja jos pidit tästä, niin kokeilepa Philippe Delermin kirjaa Ensimmäinen siemaus olutta ja muita pieniä iloja.
Ranskalaisen Paul Fournelin "Need for a Bike" (Pursuit Books, 2019) sisältää pyöräilyä käsitteleviä esseitä tai jonkinlaisia novellintapaisia, jossa on voimakas omaelämäkerrallinen sävy. Viehättävistä ja kielellisesti rikkaista tunnelmapalasista välittyy aito rakkaus lajia kohtaan. Taidanpa lukea jossakin vaiheessa myös kirjailijan kehutun mestaripyöräilijän elämäkerran Anquetil, Alone!
Ja jos pidit tästä, niin kokeilepa Philippe Delermin kirjaa Ensimmäinen siemaus olutta ja muita pieniä iloja.
February 1, 2021
Probably the best book on cycling I've ever read. Paul Fournel knows his stuff and he is able to convey the feel of cycling in writing better than probably anything I've read on the sport. It also has references to both Proust and Alex Singer which alone is enough to pique my interest. The book is literary and almost poetic, with a beautiful English translation. I was honestly not expecting it to be as good as it is. He also kept peppering the book with rides I've done personally (Stinson Beach, Bodega Bay, Dante's View) and the way he talks about the places and roads is spot on. I wish I was able to craft sentences about riding that were half as good. I finished the entire 150 pages without so much as getting out of my chair and all I want to do now is go on a bike ride. Okay, it's way too late, time for bed.
January 31, 2020
What a wonderful book. I can't believe I hadn't read it before and know I will read it again. Favourite bit
“The Ventoux has no it-self. It’s the greatest revelation of yourself. It simply returns your fatigue and fear. It has total knowledge of the shape you are in, your capacity for cycling happiness, and happiness in general. It’s yourself you’re climbing. If you don’t want to know, stay at the bottom.”
“The Ventoux has no it-self. It’s the greatest revelation of yourself. It simply returns your fatigue and fear. It has total knowledge of the shape you are in, your capacity for cycling happiness, and happiness in general. It’s yourself you’re climbing. If you don’t want to know, stay at the bottom.”
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