Off Ramp – Hank Steuver

$11.53 in paperback at Amazon.com

Buy it if: When it comes to non-fiction, you find perspective equally compelling as information…and your car’s CD holder could be a random sampling culled from the shelves of Amoeba Music.

Don’t buy it if: You don’t mix snark and sincere. If you expect a common tone when delving into a collection, you’re going to be disappointed half the time.

The essay collection it hardly a new medium. In fact, I’d be willing to lay a wager that the first bound pages were probably so devoted. (Well, maybe the very first were simply a means of determining how many ears of corn ancient Egyptian farmers owed their ancient Egyptian plumbers for coming out after nine on weekend. Literature almost always plays to second fiddle to economics…) The short form of an essay lends itself, pragmatically, to collection. After all, it’s tough to justify printing books with only 10 pages, and one episode of ‘Hoaders’ should be all it takes to convince you that the archiving of original periodical sources can easily spiral out of control. But a collection of essays held neatly together in book form can deliver a huge bang for your reading buck. Long enough to provide joy of equal amount to something long form, yet organized into discrete sections that can be experienced individually, often without succumbing to the tyranny of chronology.

Hank Steuver’s Off Ramp isn’t the most eclectic mix, but it’s up there. This shouldn’t surprise anyone who knows him as a regular in the Washington Post’s Style section, a grouping of newsprint that’s as diversified as the city it’s written to serve. But if you’re glancing through the book at your local shop (provided you still have one) and get a twinge of joy at the Star Wars piece, you might find yourself ho-humming during the Latino wedding saga that precedes it. If you’re moved by the familial sadness juxtaposed with the Oklahoma City bombing, it’s quite possible you’ll find the piece on ‘Adult Night’ at a mid-western roller rink a bit irreverent and out of place.

However, if at least three out of the four of the above stories made you stop and think Hmm, THAT one sounds kind of interesting… then it’s very likely you reside in Steuver’s prime intellectual real estate. (I’m just guessing, but you probably also like NPR and read the sports section last.) This collection is squarely aimed at the wandering mind with whimsical tendencies, the literary equivalent to Greenwich Village.

Fortunately, the price of inclusion in this journey is significantly lower than a trendy, downtown loft.

Surprisingly, each piece doesn’t force the reader into a large emotional commitment. Despite the sentiment-laden subject matter, the style is ever-so-slightly detached. It’s as if the words are constantly looking over their shoulder, cognizant of observation. You may find this ideal. If you think your own emotional baggage is more than adequate, it will be a relief that Steuver isn’t burdening you with any extra. But if you’re the type that wants to feel, that has a desire for empathy, some of the tragedy-tinged episodes will lack the resonance you seek. You’ll enjoy the quirky characters of Partyland, but wish you knew them better. You’ll picture the New Mexico wedding celebration, but not feel the internal confusion of a young and newly bonded couple. Off Ramp is truly observational, but I suspect that a lot of Steuver’s core demographic flock to collections like this for more than reportage. They’re coming to be involved.

At first glance, I assumed Off Ramp would make for great airplane reading. Lots of small, satisfying chunks of writing that can be consumed and satisfyingly digested on their own... My assumption was wrong. Steuver’s collection is more like an incredibly in-depth game of solo Scruples. The situations give enough context to beg questions of a reader’s own personality, but provide no real answers outside of a very specific situation. It's difficult to ignore enough of yourself in the reported characters and avoid the question What if… Light reading? Maybe not. But a uniquely disguised road towards introspection? Oddly, yes.

Bike Snob by BikeSnobNYC (aka Eben Weiss)

$9.75 in hardcover (Worth it.) from Amazon.com

Buy it if: You’ve been on two wheels long enough to differentiate between marketing and reality, fashion and function, Shimano and Campy…

Don’t buy it if: You think cyclists belong on sidewalks, lycra is lame and only Lance matters. (Then again, this also makes you the ideal reader…)

Don’t be put off by the title. Or the author’s name for that matter. (Until recently, BikeSnobNYC was the ‘nome de plume’ associated with this book and the site (bikesnobNYC.blogspot.com) that spawned it. Clever nomenclature aside, the Snob is anything but. Instead, this small tome reads as a distilled guide to the core of cycling. Gram counting racers and weekend joyriders alike will find a kindred spirit among these pages. Brakeless hipsters and joyless spin-classers...not so much.

Amazingly, in only 222 jersey-pocket-sized pages, the Bike Snob manages to break it all down. Really. History of the bike? It’s there. Why do messengers ride single speed fixies? It’s answered. I want to ride, what do I really need to buy? Covered. (And the truth is far simpler than the Bicycling Magazine Buyer’s Guide would have you believe. Turns out you only need a bike!) Forget anything on the bookshelf that starts with “Guide to…” and give this to any potential enthusiast. Bike Snob will do more to kickstart their obsession than any generic ‘How To’ book.

But it’s not just informative. Indeed, if you’re at all serious about riding there are far more copious and dense sources of information. Instead, the real strength of the book is its ‘forest for the trees’ gestalt. On a bike? The Snob says you're a cyclist. The book is fantastic reminder that common sense is the most useful thing to have along in your saddlebag. From locks (Heavy and strong is better) to helmets (They protect you, but not nearly as well as skillful riding) to style-detracting brakes and fenders (Here’s a hint, function trumps cool) the Snob is the great equalizer. He brings the Cat 3 weekend warrior and style-obsessed city dweller back to earth, all while being a willing participant in both scenes.

You want to ride? Ride. As long as it’s got two wheels, some pedals (and preferably a brake or two) the Snob might just be the thing you need to get out the door and moving. Forget being worried about your cheesy USPS jersey. Don’t stress about your outdated Shimano 8-speed groupo. It’s a new day to be alive and seeing the world on a bike. According to the author, as long as you are, you’re better off than the rest of the world. That’s the only actual snobbish perspective in the whole book…and I agree.