The controversial novel about food, love, and terrorism. Somewhere in the Middle East, an aspiring terrorist has been entrusted with a mission that will reverberate around the to deliver a bomb to a hotel in Beirut, where the detonation will destroy hundreds of innocent lives. If he remains true to his cause, he will bring about his own death. Yet life holds such tantalizing food (his secret vice), the heady pleasures of bicycle racing, the joys of unexpected love. As the days count down to the final, chilling moment of reckoning, this angst-ridden gourmand ponders his existential quandary -- with horrifying and hilarious results. A slyly subversive novel about a food-fixated terrorist who dreams of liberation through a world of eroticism and sensuality, The Cyclist combines humor and edgy lyricism to tell a provocative,page-turning tale of individual freedom and political violence.
Viken Berberian is a novelist and author of The Cyclist and Das Kapital: a novel of love & money markets. His writings have appeared in The New York Times, the Financial Times, the International Herald Tribune, Le Monde Diplomatique, the Los Angeles Times and Inculte, a French literary and philosophical quarterly. Berberian was awarded a Bourse de Creation from the Centre National du Livre of the French Ministry of Culture (2009-2010). He was educated at Columbia University and the London School of Economics.
I loved this debut novel by Viken Berberian. I actually had the pleasure of meeting him before publication at schmoshie party in the city. I was attending with a dear friend, Glory Kadigan/Bowen.
I found the writing terrific and intriguing. Especially the emotion set forth before the act.
Berberian's protagonist is a sybarite, one of the most memorable character sketches I have come across. I love food novels (Debt to Pleasure I devoured)... what distinguishes Berberian is that he does not give you the institutional perspective of who a terrorist is and dares to make him human. A courageous debut.
Unusual, ironic, and original. It's not propelled by plot. It reads more like a complex character study. I found the unnamed character more endearing than repulsive, and that surprised me as a reader.
Viken Berberian is a difficult author to classify. The Cyclist is highly iconoclastic in structure and approach. This is one of the most original novels I have read. Berberian chronicles the thoughts of a would-be suicide bomber that is both endearing and disconcerting.
A most treacherous, enchanting ride. I encountered a few pot holes such as the metaphoric excesses at times, but overall an enchanting ride. Pass me the falafel, one of the last remaining symbols of unity in the Middle East.
Gals and guys, this was a taste changer. It is like a saporous, delicious and divine meal. It is a cross between Like Water for Chocolate meets Munich by Spielberg. In fact, Spielberg's foodand sex/trauma scenes at the end seem to have been directly lifted from The Cyclist. This is a more authentic meal. Do not try reading it on a bus though, it can give you an upset stomach.
"Think Different" was an Apple add. Though the English is not correct, The Cyclist does challenge you to Think Different-ly. In his stunning debut novel, The Cyclist, Berberian dishes up an absurd yet appealing recipe. He blends a Middle Eastern terrorist's first-person account of his mission to make a deadly delivery with a careful chronicle of the young man's emotional vacillations. The yield is a surreal odyssey. Throughout, Berberian heaps on profound and frequently witty insight into often unexplored territory: the humane terrain of a terrorist's mind. A must read.
It was slow at times, but overall a very good, well-written book. I knew it was going to end badly (I won't spoil it), but that didn't keep me from hoping for the best...
Berberian does a great job in giving relatable qualities to a 'terrorist,' who we generally see as an inhumane monster.
Berberian's prose is delicious. You will devour this book. The protagonist's identity is not clear and the prose explodes with memorable puns and strategically-mined proverbs.
I wanted to love this book. It tackles such an interesting and brave topic: the mind of a terrorist and the inside of a terrorist group. It marries human psychology with food and cycling. It should have been one of the most original, fascinating reads.
But you have to really, I mean really, like metaphor to get through this book.
There were parts that were good. Toward the end, when the author picked up speed, it got better. But the beginning and middle were so repetitive (we get it, he loves his girlfriend). Mostly, and I hate to say this, the writing was just so bad. I'm sorry. The metaphors were just so hard to swallow. As I read it, I kept reading out parts to my mom, who laughed more and more. I've never heard a penis referred to as so many different types of fruits and vegetables. If I made it through two sentences without a bad metaphor, it was impressive. Then, to top it all off, sometimes I would just stare at a simile and yell, "WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN." I wanted it to have depth, I wanted to be sitting next to the author so he could explain it. I like imagery and metaphor (for gods sake Sylvia Plath is my favorite poet), but this was just unnecessary, confusing, and forced. And don't get me started on the random sections that would rhyme. I'm not even kidding. We actually tried rapping it (it wasn't pretty).
The plot should have made this book. It's the only reason I finished. But the writing was just too painful, too forced, and too convoluted. I just wish someone else had written the book. It could have been a powerful, powerful read. Instead I just tried not to laugh at the weird rhyming and zucchini references.
La cosa più bella di questo libro l'ho trovata nell'ultima pagina, quella pagina dove sono riportate le note di stampa; lì, il precedente proprietario (è un libro usato), ha buttato giù a penna nera la bozza di una lettera amorosa, piuttosto incerta, parimenti suddivisa tra amore profondo e astio incommensurabile, piena di cancellature, riporti, notarelle a margine, distinguo ed eccezioni varie. Un tumultuoso e sincero moto dell'animo che vale almeno tre stelle.
One of the truly original books I have read. I came across it in a used book store in Wisconsin and read in the back of a station wagon while my parents drove cross country. I loved it and read the last lines on a bus.
Guys, this sucked. I came across this book in one of my many trips to the library and thought it would be an interesting read. The synopsis promised a look at the motivations of terrorism through the lens of food! That sounds cool, right? No. All the food metaphors were so poorly written and clunky. Like they were just thrown in there haphazardly, because oh, I set out to correlate food and terrorism. Right.
I quit over halfway through. I could have finished it on the bus ride I took it on, but I just...blech. Couldn't.
I would like an interesting book/movie on this topic. I'm always disappointed (See also: my viewing experience with Paradise Now).
One of my very best friends -- the kind who knows way too much about you, much more than is safe for them to be walking around with -- gave me this book, exclaiming it is just like me. So I read it and it was hard to read and, you know what? She was right. Dead on.
The original better than Italian translation which I read first. Not to say that Italian one was not most excellent. Just a few inconsistencies in translation from the English one, something lost from original.
I first read this book about fifteen years ago and remember enjoying it - though in a distinctly odd way. The plot itself is simple, almost secondary, but the prose is anything but.
Vikem Berberian builds the novel around the protagonist’s love of Middle Eastern food, and that culinary obsession becomes the book’s most memorable feature. It’s sensual, digressive, and completely unlike anything else I’ve read.
Curiosity got the better of me, so I decided to take it for another spin. What I found was exactly what I remembered. The uniqueness still holds; the writing still feels singular and self-assured. At the same time, the book never quite deepens into something I love, nor does it give me any reason to dislike it. It exists in that rare middle space - interesting, well-crafted, and slightly distant.
So I’ll leave myself a note for the future: no need to ride this one again. Two reads is one too many. Still, I didn’t hate it. And for a novel this idiosyncratic, that feels like a quiet success.
While I enjoyed the food-obsessive protagonist, I just couldn't find myself engrossed in the main story. The author did a lot of research into food, but the cycling aspect of the story fell short. Readers who are well-versed in various kinds of cycling will find it difficult to determine exactly what the protagonist is doing.
The ending was flat. As much as I didn't care for much of this book, I think I would have liked to have more of it; there were many aspects of the story that could have used more attention.
Cool idea, but did not deliver at all. The intention of all these food analogies is there but is done so poorly and takes me out of the story every time. If I could describe it in one word - unnecessary!! Unecessary similies and metaphors baked into every line and unnecessary attempts at rhyming and alliteration that make it seem more like an alliteration/rhyming challenge that doesn't actually add any value or flow or description to the story. A reminder that sometimes I need to stop reading a book if I don't like it.