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mamimitanaka's review
DNF
This has all the ingredients of something I should enjoy - metafictionality, formal innovation and jumping from style to style, a synthesis between dreams and reality and science and religion - but as it is it's really not doing it for me. Everything feels like it's straining too hard in an obvious effort to be clever than it actually being clever, and so much of it veers into essayistic jargon about theoretical practices and ideas to the point where it lands as utterly incomprehensible for someone not in on whatever Basara is talking about here. I usually like that sort of thing but as opposed to the Pynchons and Ciscos of the world, who balance out that type of goofy theoretical writing with something that ties into their Big Ideas, a lot of this just feels like an in-joke I'm not getting. I'm sure much of this is a translation issue, so I'm not pinning all of the blame on Basara. But what I can pin direct blame on him for is that there's a lot of really odious misogyny in this that doesn't seem to be interrogated by the text at all and just reads further as Basara aping the early postmodernists [and of all the things to take away from the early powerhouses of the genre, the eye-rolling machismo and exclusion of women should absolutely not be one of them]. It's far from terrible, it's a fun concept and it has a lot of promise and the book is extremely well designed, but I can't help but think the ideas here would have actually benefitted from a more traditional narrative style, believe it or not. Maybe I'll return to this when I'm itching for this kind of thing, but I'm not right now.
This has all the ingredients of something I should enjoy - metafictionality, formal innovation and jumping from style to style, a synthesis between dreams and reality and science and religion - but as it is it's really not doing it for me. Everything feels like it's straining too hard in an obvious effort to be clever than it actually being clever, and so much of it veers into essayistic jargon about theoretical practices and ideas to the point where it lands as utterly incomprehensible for someone not in on whatever Basara is talking about here. I usually like that sort of thing but as opposed to the Pynchons and Ciscos of the world, who balance out that type of goofy theoretical writing with something that ties into their Big Ideas, a lot of this just feels like an in-joke I'm not getting. I'm sure much of this is a translation issue, so I'm not pinning all of the blame on Basara. But what I can pin direct blame on him for is that there's a lot of really odious misogyny in this that doesn't seem to be interrogated by the text at all and just reads further as Basara aping the early postmodernists [and of all the things to take away from the early powerhouses of the genre, the eye-rolling machismo and exclusion of women should absolutely not be one of them]. It's far from terrible, it's a fun concept and it has a lot of promise and the book is extremely well designed, but I can't help but think the ideas here would have actually benefitted from a more traditional narrative style, believe it or not. Maybe I'll return to this when I'm itching for this kind of thing, but I'm not right now.
kateofmind's review
challenging
dark
funny
lighthearted
mysterious
reflective
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
4.5
paulap's review against another edition
medium-paced
3.0
This was a wild ride and not at all what I expected. It follow a secret society of cyclist that are sort of a religious cult. It is sarcastic at times and I am sure a lot of it got over my head, but I think I weirdly enjoyed it…
metaphorosis's review
4.0
reviews.metaphorosis.com
4 stars
The fragmentary history of the Evangelical Bicyclists of the Rose Cross. Members receive dream instructions from future members, and arrange events so as to prevent the reconstruction of the Tower of Babylon.
This book was presented to me as "the best of Serbian sarcasm". It may well be, and it certainly has overtones of sarcasm throughout. The concept is absurd, the construction interesting, the writing strong. Serbian authors seem to tend toward the experimental, and I give full marks for that. Unfortunately, I find that they often also assume a depth of shared knowledge that I don't, in fact, share.
Basara's book is deep and incisive satire, often very funny. The deeper levels, though, are probably only available to those with long exposure to Slavic and Serbian history. Despite having lived in Serbia for several years, and in the region for many more, it was clear to me that much of the book's subtext was passing well below my metaphorical feet. At the same time, this is not one of those deliberately opaque, 'more-educated-than-thou' books. Basara is not making a point of erudition; he's just assuming you'll be able to work out his puzzles.
There are some weaknesses in the book. The experiment doesn't always work. It's presented as a hodge-podge of historical documents, including essays, letters, poems, and sketches. Mostly that works, but sometimes it does in fact feel like a random selection of whatever the author had to hand. The reading sometimes drags, less a journey of discovery than a trudge of endurance. By nature of the structure, there's little in the way of a plot, and there's not much forward motion. Much of the time, though, it's interesting.
The translation is mostly excellent; occasionally puzzling.
If you're the kind who wants action on every page, who blows through philosophical ramblings or soliloquies, don't read this. If' you're just looking for escapist light reading, this isn't the book. If you're well grounded in Christian and Serbian history, willing to read with frequent resort to Wikipedia, or just willing to grapple with ideas until you can pin them down to your satisfaction, I recommend the book. It's interesting, rewarding, and has as many levels as you can hope for.
giantarms's review
I'm sorry but I can't make heads or tails of this book. Some parts of it were very funny, but I couldn't work out what it meant. Oh well.
meghan_is_reading's review
I'm not sure what I think yet, I hunger for someone either a) familiar with Serbian culture or Serbian lit or just this guy's overall work to read and discuss this with me! I could look for Serbian reviews/criticism, but I'm afraid the google translate problem will interfere with my understanding. Anyway! The Cyclist Conspiracy is basically an absurdist take of secret societies and the ills of the human condition using a collection of fake literature - imagine you found a box in someone's personal papers that are just collected around the common reoccurring spector of the evangelical bicyclists. Fun at first, but I got a little exhausted at all the casual misogyny, I would have dropped it if it wasn't for the fact it is my bookclub pick.
nicka's review against another edition
3.0
This is difficult to review because it's not so much a novel; in that the 'story' is a smattering of journal articles, poems, epistles, universal omniscient narration, historical documents, illustrations and biographies of the Little Brothers of the Evangelical Bicyclists of the Rose Cross (a nod to the Rosicrucian secret society, i believe). If the numerous form don't make it disjointed enough, the book is steeped in esoterica, Marxist politics, and classical European philosophy, notably that of Hegel.
While there are certainly moments of brilliance that recall both Borges and Pynchon, the text is so deliberately obfuscating that it's difficult to really sink your teeth into. Now, I'm cognizant the telling of a secret society that meets only in dreams requires something more than a conventional narrative, but I'd like to think it possible to imbue the novel with the experimental (such as it is) without sacrificing readability.
The crux of the story evokes Pynchon's Chums of Chance in Against the Day, an airborne society that functions as a super-universal omniscient narrative perspective, allowing Pynchon to transcend time and geography, and jettison conventional linear narrative for something much more fluid and integrated. Where the Chums of Chance--and Pynchon for that matter--were playful and imaginative, the Little Brothers are entrenched in the arcane, the recondite. Moreover, the telling of their story is wrapped in too many riddles to ultimately provide satisfaction.
While there are certainly moments of brilliance that recall both Borges and Pynchon, the text is so deliberately obfuscating that it's difficult to really sink your teeth into. Now, I'm cognizant the telling of a secret society that meets only in dreams requires something more than a conventional narrative, but I'd like to think it possible to imbue the novel with the experimental (such as it is) without sacrificing readability.
The crux of the story evokes Pynchon's Chums of Chance in Against the Day, an airborne society that functions as a super-universal omniscient narrative perspective, allowing Pynchon to transcend time and geography, and jettison conventional linear narrative for something much more fluid and integrated. Where the Chums of Chance--and Pynchon for that matter--were playful and imaginative, the Little Brothers are entrenched in the arcane, the recondite. Moreover, the telling of their story is wrapped in too many riddles to ultimately provide satisfaction.
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