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From the Pittsburgh Tribune-Review
Sunday, March 1, 2009 For his first novel, Philipp Meyer could have taken stock of his life, plumbed his memories. There was certainly material, starting with a precocious childhood growing up in working class Baltimore as the child of "recovering hippies." Books were a passion -- Meyer read John Steinbeck's "The Pearl" in second grade, "Crime and Punishment" in the seventh grade -- but schoolwork was not. Thus a G.E.D. at 16, followed by a stint volunteering at a trauma center. Then on to study English at Cornell University, followed by a job on Wall Street trading derivatives. There were more jobs when the financial world failed to hold his interest: as a construction worker, an EMT, and then, finally, as a fellow at the Michener Center for Writers in Austin, Texas. Some story, but not one Meyer felt comfortable revisiting. "One of my (writing) instructors said when you leave your home and come back to it, you have 24 to 36 hours to see things as they really are," Meyer says. "And then you fall back into the groove of normal life. The needle falls back into the groove of the record and you're carried along blindly. And so, I don't think I'll ever write about Baltimore. I don't think I can see it clearly enough to write about it." Instead Meyer's first book, "American Rust" is set in the Mon Valley. Two young men, Isaac and Poe, are seemingly incompatible, an intellectual and an athlete. Their friendship was forged, in part, by the recognition they were the best, in academics and football, respectively. But, two years after graduating high school, they are both stuck in the fictional Fayette County town of Buell, aimless and drifting, until an incident occurs that irrevocably changes both their lives. Isaac leaves town; Poe stays behind. They represent "the two sides of my childhood," Meyer says, The rest of the novel is a study in observation. Meyer's keen eye for details -- he cites Vincent's Pizza in Forest Hills, the Koppers Building in Downtown Pittsburgh, Pirates pitcher Zach Duke and numerous landmarks in the Mon Valley -- comes by way of a friend who lives in that area, and his brother, James Meyer, who lives in Highland Park. But the story itself was cast from recent history, especially the death of the steel industry more than two decades ago. Even as the region's legendary work ethic is still propagated. "I think Pittsburgh is one of those quintessential American cities," Meyer says. "For a long time, it was almost a representation of the American dream. You'd get off the boat and get there, and, if you had a good work ethic, you were going to get a job, you were going to be able to support your family, and you were going to make a name for yourself. I think, nationally, everyone knows that this is what Pittsburgh stands for." One of Meyer's interests is what happens when the American dream is no longer possible. "American Rust" examines the lives of the families left behind when industry fails, or leaves, and when a way of life is diminished beyond repair. "This is a novel that takes an honest look about what life is like for millions, and now tens of millions of people, in our country," Meyer says. "It's honest about people's failings, it's honest about people's strengths. I'm not sure there is an underlying political message, but I wanted to look at, as a writer, the things you have to hold yourself to: truth with a capital 'T' and honesty." Meyer's characters -- including Poe's mother, Grace; Isaac's sister, Lee; and Harris, the chief of police -- are all given space to speak. But it is Poe especially who realizes the fragility of life, who is most aware of the decisions he's made -- turning down a football scholarship, refusing to leave town for other jobs -- and the resulting consequences. "I'm constantly surprised when I meet someone who I've sort of sized up and taken for granted and passed some judgment on who has some amazing interior landscape, an amazing complex way of thinking about life and the world," Meyers says. "I think that everyone has it in them to think about this stuff. It's sort of part of the background noise that drives a lot of our decisions without us being aware of it.There are only a small number of people who are actually aware of it. But all of the people in this book are being pushed to their limit. ... They're put in these very difficult positions. And so I wanted to resist the idea that Poe, as a football player, was not going to have some deeper thoughts about his mortality. From The Wall Street Journal on February 20, 2009: In a hardboiled debut novel that seems particularly apt during the financial crisis, Philipp Meyer sets "American Rust" in Buell, Pa., a once-proud steel town in the Monongahela Valley. Two unlikely friends are trapped in the town. Billy Poe is a former high school football star whose life is already marked by regret. The other, brainy Isaac English, could have followed his older sister to a top school, but instead stayed at home to care for his ailing father. Then, as he is finally fleeing, a chance meeting results in a brutal crime that changes the lives of everyone he knows. Mr. Meyer, 34 years old, lives outside Ithaca, N.Y. Such well-regarded novelists as Pete Dexter and George Pelecanos have publicly praised "American Rust." Spiegel & Grau, which publishes Mr. Meyer, has printed 15,000 copies, a good commitment for an author's first book in this economic climate. WSJ: Is there a class element to violence? Poe led a violent life prior to the murder that kicks off the book. Mr. Meyer: In my mind Poe and Isaac represented my two sides while growing up. One was a bookish kid; my parents were artists and recovering hippies. We moved to a blue-collar neighborhood in Baltimore where unemployment was really high. Someone was nearly beaten to death in front of our house and there were always cops and ambulances on the street. I grew up getting in fights and running from fights. But inside the house my parents listened to classical music. The poor are generally the ones shooting and stabbing each other. It makes the news when a rich kid is involved. What is the national significance of lost manufacturing jobs? Each time a high-wage job is lost, a family is turned upside down. And that affects the communities where they live. The sense of stability within these former middle class families is lost because they are now working poor. White collar people still have a sense of stability; blue collar people have been losing that for 30 years. Do you expect to see a return to more realistic fiction as the economic crisis deepens? I hope so. I wonder if there has been a sort of self-involvement in fiction that focused on superficial things. What art and books do at their best is investigate why we are the way we are. Coming soon: an interview with Tompkins Weekly
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