Synopsis:
“The Night Cyclist” by award-winning author Stephen Graham Jones is a horror novelette about a middle-aged chef whose nightly bicycle ride home is interrupted by an unexpected encounter.
There must be no compulsion to hide the bodies. Otherwise I’d have never found them.
Review:
Every now and then, I need to remind myself that I am literate, and am capable of reading, perhaps even finishing, a book. Rather than trying to make a dent in the hundreds of unread novels I already own, that have in fact outgrown my bookshelves, and are now stacked precariously on my bedroom floor, threatening to crush me in my sleep, I type in “Horror novellas,” (creative I know) into Instagram, and buy on kindle, the first one that piques my interest…enter “The Night Cyclist.” Now, I’m no Greg Greene, but I’d like to consider myself fairly well-versed in the works of SGJ… how this one eluded me for so long remains a mystery, especially considering the amount of pure entertainment it provided me for the half hour it took for me to power through it.
Our protagonist is a chef, and avid cyclist. Following an act of infidelity, his four year relationship goes up in flames, and the only solace he can find is in biking home from work. His meditative routine hits a (literally) grisly bump in the road, when just off of the path, he finds the bodies of two teenage boys. The next morning, when the murder makes the news, his keen cyclist eyes spot a pair of antique bicycle goggles dangling from a tree in the crime scene’s background. It seems our narrator is not the only rider who haunts the bicycle paths after dark…
Coming of age is a tried and true trope that appears again and again in storytelling. The engine behind many a great horror book, (“It,” “Boy’s Life,” “Something Wicked This Way Comes,” and so on,) there’s no doubt that it is a staple in the genre. This time, Jones shifts the focus from the more familiar teen-to-adult transformation to a more nuanced, and far bleaker, journey: a young adult’s transition into middle age- the creeping, inevitable loss of youth, the disillusionment that follows, and the emotional weight of confronting it. Jones takes the classic coming-of-age story, synonymous with discovery and hope, and adds a sombre, nostalgic aspect that makes the novelette seem more like a slow descent than a time of growth and development. A reflection on ageing, maturity, and the reality that the more you fight time, the more it consumes you.
Jones kicks off with a true-crime feel, before taking a very sharp left turn into the supernatural. The “night cyclist,” himself, an undead, immortal foil to our ageing protagonist, is truly one of the more unique terrors I’ve stumbled across, especially in short fiction. There’s a line, often bunny-hopped over in horror, between delusion and reality. Here, we are unsure whether our bloody biker is a true feat of nature, or simply a convenient figment of the narrator’s crumbling psyche, a product of his messy breakup and midlife crisis. As everything in SGJ’s writing is, this ambiguity is deliberate, and ticks yet another box in my eyes… I see why he and Tremblay get on.
Regardless, for the slim, sanguinary story that it is, we conclude on a surprisingly optimistic tone. Despite the ending implying consequence, possibly even confinement, there’s ultimately commentary on redemption and self-discovery. Despite how neatly we make our beds, we don’t always have to lie in them forever. No matter how deep of a hole we dig ourselves into, there’s a way to climb out of it. Redemption and second chances can be possible, provided changes are made. In the case of our narrator, we’ve established that time can not be outrun, but peace can be made with it. Whilst in terms of content, the final line is just as insane as the opening, thematically it’s the thoughtful, quiet resolution the story needed.
Anyway, despite “The Night Cyclist,” being worth every penny I impulsively splurged on the e-book, I was foolish to fork over the cash so quickly…. you can read it right here… for free. If you have a spare hour, this is a fun way to spend it.
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