History of the J Man

To have it all and realize that it is still not enough is the lesson offered by “Lightning McQueen,” Frank Berrios’s take on William Blake’s famous maxim: “The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom.”  At first, it’s tempting to brush off this work as yet another picaresque morality tale, but to do so would be to deprive oneself of a truly transcendental reading experience.  

The tale is told in retrospect, as McQueen looks back upon his life addicted to speed.  McQueen is a racecar, you see, a young fool whose heart is set solely on winning the race, any race, anywhere, at any cost.  Berrios’s prose leads us to envision the late night excesses of the young car, tasting the fruits of fame and riches, guzzling oil by the barrel, burning rubber on nameless, abandoned parking lots, constantly proving himself against some nameless foe.

“I used to think racing was everything,” says McQueen, as he cuts a swath of devastation in his wake during one particular race.  What is it that motivates him?  What is it that causes this self-destructive behavior?  In his genius, Berrios never reveals it.  Instead, we are left to ponder the internal machinations of a tortured soul who can find no other light in his life than the glare of the winner’s podium and all the accoutrements it engenders. 

It is not until he arrives in Radiator Springs that perspective is gained and he begins to take stock of the decisions he’s made and where those decisions have taken him.  “I made new friends [in Radiator Springs],” McQueen admits, and we believe him.  The grandeur and beauty of the landscape and a special bond formed with a nameless female car who lives in the town causes McQueen to rethink everything about his former lifestyle. 

“I still like winning,” McQueen tells us in the book’s final page, “but I also love going for a drive with my friends!”  Berrios wants us to believe that through balance, success is attainable, that one can discover a winning formula without an extra edge.  Ultimately, the admission seems too neat and trite in a work of such pulsating introspection.  As readers, we are left wanting.  But it’s a minor stumble for Berrios in a work of exquisite prose, and after all of the tribulations and redemptions that he has guided us through from the opening scene, perhaps we can forgive him. 

Through the eyes of a simple racecar, Berrios examines the drama of choice, the rearrangement of values and how the bonds of friendship can leave an impression that can change a life’s course.  It is his strongest work to date, a tour-de-force of devastating literary consequence.

“Lightning McQueen” is one of four other works in the “Let’s Cruise!” set.

Jonah has started to get the hang of using his fork, which is very exciting for everyone.  Right now, he is able to spear some food with the tines of the fork and carefully place it in his mouth.  He seems to have an easier time with the fork than with a spoon; if his hands move around, the food doesn’t fall off of the fork the way it does with the spoon.

These days, if he doesn’t seem interested in food, giving him a chance to feed himself usually gets his interest up and he ends up eating whatever we’re trying to feed him.  That’s good news, considering he seems to be getting picky lately about what he eats.

The other cool development we noticed today was that he is into stacking things.  This is quite a shift, considering all he used to do was destroy, destroy, destroy.  Today we had some old canisters of baby cereal that he stacked three high.  We thought perhaps he got lucky, but he did it several times.  He wouldn’t simply knock them all over either, but would take them off the top to start another stack.  I’m no doctor, but it seems like his fine motor skills have hit a new highwater mark if he’s doing things like that. 

Other than that, not much other news to report.  He’s running around like crazy and is really into repeating your actions.  He’s also starting to wave goodbye here and there, but doesn’t always do it consistently.

One other note: Today was the funeral for my great aunt Hertha Bertha Kurth, affectionately known to our family as Aunt Petey.  She was 98 years old.  Rest in peace, Petey.  We all love you very much!