Local riders collaborate on circuitous story of (mostly) fictitious bike communities in central Vt
By Polly Mikula
Set in an unknown time somewhere in the central Vermont hills of Brandon, Goshen and Rochester, author Angus Chaney imagines a world organized primarily around semi-autonomous bike clans. It’s a lighthearted look at a dystopian future.
Randal Smathers, director of the Rutland Free Library, called it: “Original, funny, insightful, and completely off the derailleurs,” before giving it
“Many stars.”
The term “proto-cycology” could literally be translated as the “foremost study of cycling,” although the obvious play on the word ‘psychology’ brings additional meanings throughout the book. Chaney’s mastery of language — from the colloquial syntax he ascribes to the clans, to his continuous use of word play, puns and witty prose — makes his writing a true joy, and even inspired laugh-out-loud moments.
Chaney wrote the first of the two-book series in 2020. The sequel was published this past spring, May 23, 2024. The first book he titled “Proto-Cycology: Creation Myths for the Apocalypse;” the sequel, “Proto-Cycology: Chasing the Falcon.”
While the books are challenging to categorize, Chaney keeps it simple explaining the stories as “tall-tales, mythology, and farce related to mountain biking in central Vermont.”
The epigraph in the beginning of the first book it reads: “Some of this is true… or was once… or will be… The rest is savage lies.”
There are some specific references to local rivers, mountain gaps and regions (from the Mad River to the Slate Valley Trails, though the events center mostly around the Brandon Gap and Rochester area). References often feel familiar without being explicit.
Topics range from extreme gourding to barter economics to a new conception of sustainable agriculture — he describes how one of his main characters, Eben, adapts: “After many years of trying to keep the groundhogs out of his vegetables, he’d simply adapted to eating groundhog. Squash and lettuce were now just fodder for his herd. In years when the beasts got obscenely fat on beets and carrot tops, the meat was plentiful. When their population crashed, the garden would rebound and Eben ate more green, leafy things; everyone in the cycle just consuming what fate and the season provided.”
Birds of prey (and their eggs) are central characters — as well as an aggressive mallard duck. Simmering tribal conflicts and sinister fascists provide obstacles to overcome in the story arch with Eben as a delightfully picaresque type of hero.
When Eben is asked why the clans are feuding, he answers: “I suppose we inherited the quarrel from our fathers. They battled over trail permissions and seasonal maintenance; a schism born of both greed and laziness.”
His friends respond: “Sounds stupid.”
After the resolution, Eben reflects: “This day has moved me to reflection. We woke as enemies of the Bear Clan, and now count them as allies. The day began grim and bikeless in the foggy valley and now we roll forth in the sun on the fastest steeds our people have known. My spirit feels purified from the ceremony of the wheel, and it is time to share a secret that has burned me for many years … there is a reason I always win when we play Snakes and Ladders.”
It’s passages like that that probably led Jacob Reibel, from Cycliste, to described the Proto-Cycology books as “Bill McKibben meets Mad Max,” in a review.
In addition to being an author and avid cyclist, Chaney is the executive director of the Homeless Prevention Center in Rutland. His friend and fellow cyclist, Ethan Nelson (a speech-language pathologist from Brandon) did most the illustrations for Proto-Cycology. (See Q&A with Ethan Nelson page 38.)
Chaney said his first Proto-Cycology book garnered a “small but devoted following on the trails around Brandon, Goshen, Rochester and a little beyond.”
While he is delighted when readers (and riders) enjoy Proto-Cycology’s circuitous stories, he said he wrote mostly for the pure fun of it. “Let’s be honest, we’re not really authors and are frankly uncomfortable with the idea of getting tangled up in anything professional … we have no idea what we’re doing and have never had more fun!”
That joy exudes on the pages. As Dan Brett, of Hearthunder Art Collective, wrote in a review:
“Bravo! A Tour-de-Forest! This is a funny, endearing-as-hell, post-apocolyptic grown-up fairy tale for mountain bikers and the people who love them. The illustrations are the cherry on top.”
For more information or to find a list of local shops where the books are sold, visit: www.mediacoup.org
