“I think the things we do make us what we are - so the things we use change us,” (31) says Kelly, the instigator of a bike-ride-cum-epic-adventure in J.H.M Okthos’ novel, OMO. In this book, the bike isn’t just an invention or a mode of transportation or form of exercise, but an experience that transforms how those who ride it understand themselves and the world. The story itself is a taste of what it means to engage with the tools at hand.
The book begins with a crash, a collision of bikes and people. Once they’re all upright and acquainted, one of the bikers, Kelly, invites the four others to join her on a trip to Scotland. Each goes his or her separate way, entranced, reliving the incident. They meet up again in Oxford, ready to give up boring jobs, listless routines, and give in to the unknown - on bike. Their group of three heading north quickly becomes ten, then twenty, then hundreds across the globe, until, when it’s front page news for days, it splinters and explodes as the riders disagree what OMO means. OMO, the shape of a bike with a diamond frame between two wheels, becomes the code word for this movement the bike ride has become. Tightly wrought, the structure of the book also follows the OMO shape, beginning with a slow, churning, gathering of riders, followed by jagged, tumultuous middle parts, and ending with a pensive, but inconclusive, denouement, like a wheel that resists inactivity.
OMO is a splendidly ironic conceit; a complex exploration of simple ideas, a narrative about the inadequacy of language and the animalistic nature of very thoughtful humans. The action never stops, even when the group camps at the end of the day, sharing food, smokes and conversation. There are dramas between factions, witch hunts for those suspects of sabotaging the group to the media and otherwise disrupting its purpose, law enforcers and criminals. There are love triangles and unrequited passions, endearing friendships and grudges never resolved. The ride is not a means to an end; it is the monster-force driving its participants into new realms, new ways of being, sometimes in spite of the riders’ intentions.
OMO is the story behind politics. The reader is not outside the action, doomed to fail the book’s ethic: to understand by DOING. Rather, in a brilliant literary perspective on the place of narrative in a world full of opinions, the reader is most like Craig, the rider first introduced, out to beat his own time on the stretch of London road where the crash occurs. He chooses not to join the group to Scotland, but, more than halfway through the book, he returns, reading about the OMO movement in the news and shaking his head. Craig, like readers, bikes along with the others, but at a distance, on his own.