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Written by Jason Hardung for Boneshaker: A Bicycling Almanac 43-100
Monday, 13 December 2010
 On July 2nd, James Kaelan embarked on a journey up the Pacific Coast, from Los Angeles to Vancouver, British Columbia on his bicycle (one of the two Cannondales sent him pro bono). What makes a man do such a thing, you ask? Many reasons, hypothetically: his car was broke, he likes Canadian women, or he wanted to discover his country or himself. Those things might very well have happened on his journey, but one of James’ reasons was a book tour for his new novella, We’re Getting On, published by Flatmancrooked Publishing. Call it sustainability, or call it a gimmick, but the book cover is embedded with spruce seeds. So once you are done reading it, you can bury it in the ground and the very words you once held in your grubby little hands, your grubby little heart, will offset carbon emissions and someday shelter hundreds of birds and squirrels and maybe raccoons, depending on where you plant the book cover.
The other reason to tour like this was to show it could be done with zero emissions. He would ride his bike while an electric car with supplies followed. He would crash on people’s floors or camp, making due with the bare minimum, stopping in twenty-two cities along the way, not only to promote the book, but also to promote a selfless new idea. All in forty days. Well, it wasn’t totally selfless — he got press, a couple new bikes, witnessed some of the most beautiful scenery in the country, met some people he will never forget and surely discovered his country and himself along the way. But all of this zero emission stuff does tie in eventually. Most stories in the book deal with life just outside the grid — no electricity is a big theme, along with love and lust and youth, all wrapped in apocalyptic fears.
James graduated with his MFA from Boston University in 2007. He is currently an adjunct professor at Pepperdine University and co-owns Flatmancrooked Publishing. At only twenty-four years old, James seems on track to become a literary figure you will hear about while he is still alive, instead of dead. He is literally planting the seeds for that future everywhere he goes. Below are his thoughts on the book, the project, and his plans.
Boneshaker Almanac: Not too long ago you arrived back home from the Zero Emission Book Tour. What did you hope to accomplish? Was it more to sell your book? Which is what most book tours are all about. Or was it to promote sustainability and this alternate way of doing things? Do you consider it a success?
James Kaelan: I hoped to accomplish, more than anything else, the tour itself — which is to say my primary goal was to finish the ride. It was more emotionally and physically arduous than anything I’d ever embarked on. I also hoped the tour would raise awareness about the book, which I think it did. And if the project encouraged people to live simply and eat locally, that’s an added bonus. I certainly learned that I need very little to be happy, and that the people who grow food are generally awesome. The tour was a revelation for me, and therefore an unmitigated success.
BA: What kind of bike did you ride? And how many miles did you ride in a day on average?
JK: I rode a Cannondale Touring Model 1. She is an absolutely bulletproof machine. I had nearly fifty pounds of gear strapped to her, and yet she behaved admirably. On an average day, we covered between 50 and 60 miles. Some days we did 30, and others 90. Near the end of the thing we decided to push ourselves, and we rode some pretty long days just to make sure we were strong.
BA: There is going to be a documentary out of this experience? When can we expect to see it?
JK: The filmmaker, Miles Kittredge, has just begun the editing process. He’s been slaving over a trailer for the last week, and by the time this article comes out, the world ought to be able to see it. The documentary, in its entirety, ought to be done sometime next spring. Details pending, of course.
BA: The cover of your book is embedded with spruce seeds. I think it’s a great idea. In fact, we almost did something to that effect with Matter Journal a couple years ago, but we were going to put a packet of wildflower seeds in the book somewhere if I remember correctly. Is it cost effective? How much is this type of paper compared to regular stock? Another thing I was curious about is, when I get a book I like to keep it, hold it, bend the pages, look at the cover, show it to people. Your book is beautiful. I don’t know if I could bury it in the dirt. Am I selfish? From the feedback you got out on the road, are you confident that people will grow the seeds?
JK: Printing those seed-paper covers was anything but cost effective. In fact, it was cost ineffective. The cover cost probably 15 or 20 times as much as a traditional stock. But Flatmancrooked (and I) believe strongly in books as art objects. Costs shouldn’t matter when you’re producing art — or at least attempting to. We feel we created an intensely unique book. Ironically, though, we’re asking people to destroy it by planting it in the ground. Perhaps destroy isn’t the right word. But we’re asking people to recycle the book. We were never entirely confident that people would follow through with that direction, though, and that’s why we had some seed-paper bookmarks made. I know a huge number of those got planted.
BA: In We’re Getting On a group of young men and women take off into the desert with hopes of abandoning all technology. It was a story that stuck with me for days. It has been written about before, but the way you did it was more relatable for me. They have this grand idea, but they don’t think it through and many terrible things happen along the way. Is this idea of abandoning technology something you would like to do? Would you plan it better than your characters? Your narrator is almost sadistic sometimes, but he has a vision and won’t stray from that path. Are you a leader like your narrator? Or would you be more empathetic towards your friends/followers as they lay emaciated in the sand?
JK: I’ve been flirting for a long time with this idea of abandoning technology. During the tour I was significantly less connected — electronically, at least — to the world. I didn’t necessarily feel freer, though. I felt sort of confined. But now that I’ve returned I’m beginning to feel like I want to reduce my reliance on computers and phones again. These machines are an addiction, but it’s hard to do business without them.
Regarding my actual relationship to Dan and the Battle Mountain gang, I tried to treat the tour a bit like an escape into the desert. It was nowhere near as extreme, of course, but I did feel at times as if I was going a little mad. The film ought to reflect that. But I’m confident that I was nothing like Dan during the trip, and by that I mean I wasn’t an autocrat. Miles and I were a team, and we weren’t trying to destroy each other. Though I’m not sure Dan was trying to destroy anyone. Or if he was, somehow his intentions weren’t malicious. He was trying to purify everyone — but in a very perverse way. Miles was never desiccating in the sand, but I would’ve given him water if he had been. Who knows if Dan would’ve.
BA: How did you train for your ride? What are your bike rides usually like?
JK: I live four miles from Griffith Park, which stretches between the Hollywood Hills and the Loz Feliz Hills. Running through the park, like veins of silver, are a number of roads that climb over and around the mountains. To train, I rode over and around said mountains. But I wouldn’t say I trained particularly hard. Preparing for a tour is nothing like preparing for a race. You can sort of get into shape for a tour on the tour — if you have a decent base.
BA: I know how hard it is getting around Los Angeles without a car. Is your bike your primary source of transportation?
JK: I’m driving a borrowed hybrid right now, but when I give that back I will be on foot and pedal only. I live on the east side, though, which means I have everything I need within a mile or four — and there’s a bike lane on Sunset from Angeleno Heights to Hollywood.
BA: You’ve done the West Coast tour. Are there any plans to see the rest of the United States?
JK: I’m headed to New York, but in a plane. In fact, I’ll be in New York by the time this story comes out. I’m flirting with the idea of a cross-country trip, but all that I can say for now is that for that to happen a couple major details need to fall in place regarding the documentary we’re making of the West Coast tour.
BA: You are only 24 and have accomplished more with writing than most people have their whole lives. You graduated with your MFA from Boston University, you’re a professor at Pepperdine, you’ve written articles for some top-notch magazines like Poets & Writers, and you co-own your publishing company, Flatmancrooked. I decided I wanted to be a writer in high school, but I never had the drive at that age to make it happen. When did you decide you wanted to work with the written word? And where did you get your work ethic?
JK: I wrote a book in first grade that was based on the movie Jason and the Argonauts. It no doubt qualifies as plagiarism, but at the time I thought it was fairly original. Since then I’ve been gravely focused on being an author, save for a spell in the second grade when I wanted to be a paint manufacturer. I didn’t develop my work ethic, such as it is, but rather became infected with it, as some are Crohn’s disease. Whereas some writers suffer from apathy, I suffer from — or for — the sort of ambition for which Caesar was slain, to quote Marc Antony.
BA: What comes first, writing or bicycling?
JK: Writing. To tell you the truth, I haven’t gotten on a bike since I returned to LA. I’m positively burnt out. |
