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258 pages, Paperback
Published June 26, 2017
In his latest offering, Leadfoot (280 Steps, 2016), author Eric Beetner colors in the backstory of the McGraw clan in this prequel to Rumrunners (2015). Like Rumrunners, Beetner channels the muscle car movies of the late 60s and early 70s in a pared-down, highly entertaining page turner. In fact, the book’s lead characters conjure images of famed actors of the period who would easily fit the bill of Calvin and Webb: Paul Newman or Peter Fonda, and a young Jeff Bridges or perhaps Jan-Michael Vincent.
There can be no real question that from a historical perspective the automobile culture is uniquely American. And in movies and books, the theme of car as microcosm of an ordered and controlled world is also undeniably American. Notably, Beetner makes full use of the theme without beating the reader over the head with it. The truth of this notion sinks in—to devastating effect—for Webb late in the story, as he escapes from encroaching violent circumstances upon leaving his vehicle and venturing out into the world beyond: “Gravel spit from under the tires as Webb tore the Eliminator out of the lot. His dad was right: being behind the wheel set everything right. He had control again. He felt at home.”
At the same time, Calvin, Webb’s father, also finds himself in the chaotic clutches of the outside world and longing for the sense of control afforded by being behind the wheel, which for him is tantamount to a kind of existential freedom: “Calvin wished they were on open highway, wind through the windows, horizon fading away to nothing. His feet never felt so cemented to one place before in his life. Trapped by circumstance and nothing to do but stay and fight it out."
Don’t get me wrong—the novel is not bogged down by philosophical meanderings. Not at all. There is plenty of action to keep one turning pages late into the night. And in fact, that is the real attraction here. There is action and a solid plot. This is a story of families—fathers, sons, husbands, wives, brothers—and ultimately, the betrayal of these on a number of different levels. To say that Leadfoot is Shakespearean in its sense of tragedy and betrayal is overstating it—but there are certainly dramatic elements that bring the works of Bill Shakespeare to mind.
Neither is the novel bogged down by overly pretty prose. On the contrary, it’s pared down and muscley, at times. If Hemingway had moved to Des Moines instead of Paris, he might’ve written Leadfoot and Rumrunners, or at least something like them. There is some fine descriptive writing in the novel as well. Take this marvelously taut description of an Iowa rural scene-scape.
The sun had gone down ahead of him as he drove and the stars came out on a moonless night. The highway was Iowa straight, traffic around him light. He looked out over the fields on either side of him and watched the fireflies blink in the darkness trying to find each other. Grain towers stood lit from underneath, Iowa’s version of those redwood trees out on the Coast.
All in all, this is a nicely balanced book—plot, pacing, prose, and themes. Beetner clearly has full control of his craft—and it shows. Not unlike Calvin McGraw behind the wheel of his favorite muscle car. He feels at home there, knows every sound and movement as if it were an extension of his own self. And that’s the kind of writing every author aspires to. And the kind of writing every reader enjoys. A highly recommended book. 4.5 stars.