Book Review: "New Black Cyclones: Racism, Representation, and Revolutions of Power in Cycling" by Marlon Lee Moncrieffe

Book Review: "New Black Cyclones: Racism, Representation, and Revolutions of Power in Cycling" by Marlon Lee Moncrieffe

Rating: ★★★½ (3.5/5) Reading time: ~4 minutes

Thanks to NetGalley and the publisher for providing an advance copy for review.

A century after Major Taylor, nicknamed the Black Cyclone, became the first Black World Champion cyclist, riders still hear the same silent question every time they roll into a bike shop: "why are you here?" I know that question. I've been asked it without a word being said.

That's the terrain Marlon Lee Moncrieffe covers in "New Black Cyclones," and it's a book I went into wanting to love completely — because this is my sport, and this is a story that has needed telling for a long time.

Why it matters

Cycling likes to think of itself as a meritocracy of legs and lungs. Moncrieffe, a former international track sprinter turned academic, makes the case that it never fully has been — that Black riders have been treated less as competitors than as anomalies, from Major Taylor's era straight through to today's professional peloton. Set against the backdrop of the 2020 Black Lives Matter reckoning, this isn't a history lesson so much as an audit: what has actually changed, and what hasn't.

The big picture

Moncrieffe travels across the UK, the U.S., and the African continent, interviewing elite riders, grassroots organizers, national federations, and community leaders to ask a hard question: is cycling's post-2020 anti-racism push real reform, or performance? His answer, largely, is the latter — and he backs it with statistics, interviews, and firsthand testimony that Black riders are still treated as visitors in a sport that has never fully made room for them.

Worth knowing: Moncrieffe isn't approaching this as an outside academic. He's a genuinely accomplished former racer — a national, European, and World Championships medalist in track sprint cycling — which means the authority behind "he knows this terrain" isn't just research, it's the bunch, the start line, and the results sheet. This is also his second book on the subject, following his earlier, award-winning "Desire, Discrimination, Determination: Black Champions in Cycling," and that depth of prior work shows in how confidently he moves through this material.

What works

• Major Taylor's throughline. Moncrieffe returns often to Marshall "Major" Taylor — the first Black World Champion cyclist, who dominated a sport that saw him as an intruder rather than an equal. It's the emotional spine of the book, and it should be. Taylor endured the exact "how dare he" hostility this book documents in modern form, and reading his story again after finishing Moncrieffe's account, it's hard not to see the throughline connecting him to Jackie Robinson, Althea Gibson, and the many other Black and Brown athletes who had to break a color barrier just to be allowed to compete on their own merits.
• The reporting. The interviews are the book's real strength — voices from Black cycling clubs and riders actively building the sport's future, not just critiquing its past.
• The honesty about "underwhelming." Moncrieffe doesn't let the sport off easy for its post-2020 gestures, and having lived some version of the experience he's describing, I found that refusal to soften the conclusion the most credible part of the book.

Where it struggles

This is the harder part to write, because the subject deserves full marks. The prose itself doesn't always serve it. The ideas are there and they're important, but the writing leans repetitive — the same points and phrases resurface across chapters without building on each other — and the tone stays at one register throughout, which flattens some genuinely powerful material. A book like this earns its anger; the case is frustrating. But storytelling this vital needed a tighter edit to really land with the force it deserves. It's a harder read than the subject should require, and that's a missed opportunity, not a flaw in the case being made. There's no audiobook edition, either — a real loss here, since a skilled narrator could have brought rhythm and breath to material that reads flatter on the page than it should.

Worth noting

A few reviewers have pointed out that the book's lens stays mostly on the UK and U.S., with less room for the African cycling scenes it also touches on — a fair observation, and one that left me wanting a bit more from those sections specifically, given how much they add when they appear.

A personal note

I didn't read this one as just a critic. I've ridden through neighborhoods where the stares told me exactly what Moncrieffe is writing about, long before I had his research to name it. I've walked into a bike shop asking about a road bike and felt the room recalibrate. Major Taylor isn't an abstract historical figure to me — he's the answer to "who did this before I did, and how did he survive it." That's what makes this book matter regardless of how the sentences land: it's not asking cycling to make room for something new. It's documenting a right to a seat that was earned a hundred years ago and still has to be re-earned every ride.

The bottom line

"New Black Cyclones" tells a story that has to be told, with reporting and history that make it worth the read — even when the writing makes you work harder for it than it should. Read it for Major Taylor, for the riders speaking in their own words, and for a mirror that's overdue in this sport.