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American Rust: A Novel (Random House Reader's Circle) Paperback – January 12, 2010
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“Powerful . . . gripping . . . in the tradition that stretches from Ernest Hemingway to Cormac McCarthy.”—The Washington Post
A BEST BOOK OF THE YEAR: New York Times Book Review, The Washington Post, Economist, Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, Newsweek, Kansas City Star, Idaho Statesman
Left alone to care for his aging father after his mother dies by suicide and his sister escapes to Yale, Isaac English longs for a life beyond his hometown, a beautiful but economically devastated Pennsylvania steel town. But when he finally sets out to leave for good, accompanied by his temperamental best friend, former high school football star Billy Poe, they are caught up in a terrible act of violence that changes their lives forever.
Evoking John Steinbeck’s novels of restless lives during the Great Depression, American Rust takes us into the contemporary American heartland at a moment of profound unrest and uncertainty about the future. It is a dark but lucid vision, a moving novel about the bleak realities that battle our desire for transcendence and the power of love and friendship to redeem us.
- Print length400 pages
- LanguageEnglish
- PublisherRandom House Trade Paperbacks
- Publication dateJanuary 12, 2010
- Dimensions5.47 x 0.83 x 8.23 inches
- ISBN-100385527527
- ISBN-13978-0385527521
From #1 New York Times bestselling author Colleen Hoover comes a novel that explores life after tragedy and the enduring spirit of love. | Learn more
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From the Publisher

Editorial Reviews
Review
“A novel as splendidly crafted and original as any written in recent decades, American Rust is both darkly disturbing and richly compelling. Philipp Meyer’s first novel signals the arrival of a new voice in American letters.”—Patricia Cornwell, author of Scarpetta
“With its strong narrative engine and understated social insight, American Rust is reminiscent of the best of Robert Stone and Russell Banks. Author Philipp Meyer locates the heart of his working class characters without false sentiment or condescension, and their world is artfully described. An extraordinary, compelling novel from a major talent.”—George Pelecanos, author of The Turnaround
“This is strong, clean stuff. Philipp Meyer deserves to be taken seriously.”—Pete Dexter, author of Paper Trails
“Philipp Meyer's American Rust is written with considerable dramatic intensity and pace. It manages an emotional accuracy, a deep and detailed conviction in its depiction of character. It also captures a sense of a menacing society, a wider world in the throes of decay and self-destruction.”—Colm Tóibín, author of The Master
“Meyer has a thrilling eye for failed dreams and writes uncommonly tense scenes of violence . . . Fans of Cormac McCarthy or Dennis Lehane will find in Meyer an author worth watching.”—Publishers Weekly
About the Author
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
1.
Isaac's mother was dead five years but he hadn't stopped thinking about her. He lived alone in the house with the old man, twenty, small for his age, easily mistaken for a boy. Late morning and he walked quickly through the woods toward town--a small thin figure with a backpack, trying hard to keep out of sight. He'd taken four thousand dollars from the old man's desk; Stolen, he corrected himself. The nuthouse prisonbreak. Anyone sees you and it's Silas get the dogs.
Soon he reached the overlook: green rolling hills, a muddy winding river, an expanse of forest unbroken except for the town of Buell and its steelmill. The mill itself had been like a small city, but they had closed it in 1987, partially dismantled it ten years later; it now stood like an ancient ruin, its buildings grown over with bittersweet vine, devil's tear thumb, and tree of heaven. The footprints of deer and coyotes crisscrossed the grounds; there was only the occasional human squatter.
Still, it was a quaint town: neat rows of white houses wrapping the hillside, church steeples and cobblestone streets, the tall silver domes of an Orthodox cathedral. A place that had recently been well-off, its downtown full of historic stone buildings, mostly boarded now. On certain blocks there was still a pretense of keeping the trash picked up, but others had been abandoned completely. Buell, Fayette County, Pennsylvania. Fayette-nam, as it was often called.
Isaac walked the railroad tracks to avoid being seen, though there weren't many people out anyway. He could remember the streets at shiftchange, the traffic stopped, the flood of men emerging from the billet mill coated with steeldust and flickering in the sunlight; his father, tall and shimmering, reaching down to lift him. That was before the accident. Before he became the old man.
It was forty miles to Pittsburgh and the best way was to follow the tracks along the river--it was easy to jump a coal train and ride as long as you wanted. Once he made the city, he'd jump another train to California. He'd been planning this for a month. A long time overdue. Think Poe will come along? Probably not.
On the river he watched barges and a towboat pass, engines droning. It was pushing coal. Once the boat was gone the air got quiet and the water was slow and muddy and the forests ran down to the edge and it could have been anywhere, the Amazon, a picture from National Geographic. A bluegill jumped in the shallows--you weren't supposed to eat the fish but everyone did. Mercury and PCB. He couldn't remember what the letters stood for but it was poison.
In school he'd tutored Poe in math, though even now he wasn't sure why Poe was friends with him--Isaac English and his older sister were the two smartest kids in town, the whole Valley, probably; the sister had gone to Yale. A rising tide, Isaac had hoped, that might lift him as well. He'd looked up to his sister most of his life, but she had found a new place, had a husband in Connecticut that neither Isaac nor his father had met. You're doing fine alone, he thought. The kid needs to be less bitter. Soon he'll hit California--easy winters and the warmth of his own desert. A year to get residency and apply to school: astrophysics. Lawrence Livermore. Keck Observatory and the Very Large Array. Listen to yourself--does any of that still make sense?
Outside the town it got rural again and he decided to walk the trails to Poe's house instead of taking the road. He climbed steadily along. He knew the woods as well as an old poacher, kept notebooks of drawings he'd made of birds and other animals, though mostly it was birds. Half the weight of his pack was notebooks. He liked being outside. He wondered if that was because there were no people, but he hoped not. It was lucky growing up in a place like this because in a city, he didn't know, his mind was like a train where you couldn't control the speed. Give it a track and direction or it cracks up. The human condition put names to everything: bloodroot rockflower whip-poor-will, tulip bitternut hackberry. Shagbark and pin oak. Locust and king_nut. Plenty to keep your mind busy.
Meanwhile, right over your head, a thin blue sky, see clear to outer space: the last great mystery. Same distance to Pittsburgh--couple miles of air and then four hundred below zero, a fragile blanket. Pure luck. Odds are you shouldn't be alive--think about that, Watson. Can't say it in public or they'll put you in a straitjacket.
Except eventually the luck runs out--your sun turns into a red giant and the earth is burned whole. Giveth and taketh away. The entire human race would have to move before that happened and only the physicists could figure out how, they were the ones who would save people. Of course by then he'd be long dead. But at least he'd have made his contribution. Being dead didn't excuse your responsibility to the ones still alive. If there was anything he was sure of, it was that.
Poe lived at the top of a dirt road in a doublewide trailer that sat, like many houses outside town, on a large tract of woodland. Eighty acres, in this case, a frontier sort of feeling, a feeling of being the last man on earth, protected by all the green hills and hollows.
There was a muddy four-wheeler sitting in the yard near Poe's old Camaro, its three-thousand-dollar paintjob and blown transmission. Metal sheds in various states of collapse, a Number 3 Dale Earnhardt flag pinned across one of them, a wooden game pole for hanging deer. Poe was sitting at the top of the hill, looking out toward the river from his folding chair. If you could find a way to pay your mortgage, people always said, it was like living on God's back acre.
The whole town thought Poe would go to college to keep playing ball, not exactly Big Ten material but good enough for somewhere, only two years later here he was, living in his mother's trailer, sitting in the yard and looking like he intended to cut firewood. This week or maybe next. A year older than Isaac, his glory days already past, a dozen empty beer cans at his feet. He was tall and broad and squareheaded and at two hundred forty pounds, more than twice the size of Isaac. When he saw him, Poe said:
"Getting rid of you for good, huh?"
"Hide your tears," Isaac told him. He looked around. "Where's your bag?" It was a relief to see Poe, a distraction from the stolen money in his pocket.
Poe grinned and sipped his beer. He hadn't showered in days--he'd been laid off when the town hardware store cut its hours and was putting off applying to Wal-Mart as long as possible.
"As far as coming along, you know I've got all this stuff to take care of." He waved his arm generally at the rolling hills and woods in the distance. "No time for your little caper."
"You really are a coward, aren't you?"
"Christ, Mental, you can't seriously want me to come with you."
"I don't care either way," Isaac told him.
"Looking at it from my own selfish point of view, I'm still on goddamn probation. I'm better off robbing gas stations."
"Sure you are."
"You ain't gonna make me feel guilty. Drink a beer and sit down a minute."
"I don't have time," said Isaac.
Poe glanced around the yard in exasperation, but finally he stood up. He finished the rest of his drink and crumpled the can. "Alright," he said. "I'll ride with you up to the Conrail yard in the city. But after that, you're on your own."
From a distance, from the size of them, they might have been father and son. Poe with his big jaw and his small eyes and even now, two years out of school, a nylon football jacket, his name and player number on the front and buell eagles on the back. Isaac short and skinny, his eyes too large for his face, his clothes too large for him as well, his old backpack stuffed with his sleeping bag, a change of clothes, his notebooks. They went down the narrow dirt road toward the river, mostly it was woods and meadows, green and beautiful in the first weeks of spring. They passed an old house that had tipped face-first into a sinkhole--the ground in the Mid-Mon Valley was riddled with old coal mines, some properly stabilized, others not. Isaac winged a rock and knocked a ventstack off the roof. He'd always had a good arm, better than Poe's even, though of course Poe would never admit it.
Just before the river they came to the Cultrap farm with its cows sitting in the sun, heard a pig squeal for a long time in one of the outbuildings.
"Wish I hadn't heard that."
"Shit," said Poe. "Cultrap makes the best bacon around."
"It's still something dying."
"Maybe you should stop analyzing it."
"You know they use pig hearts to fix human hearts. The valves are basically the same."
"I'm gonna miss your factoids."
"Sure you will."
"I was exaggerating," said Poe. "I was being ironic."
They continued to walk.
"You know I would seriously owe you if you came with."
"Me and Jack Kerouac Junior. Who stole four grand from his old man and doesn't even know where the money came from."
"He's a cheap bastard with a steelworker's pension. He's got plenty of money now that he's not sending it all to my sister."
"Who probably needed it."
"Who graduated from Yale with about ten scholarships while I stayed back and looked after Little Hitler."
Poe sighed. "Poor angry Isaac."
"Who wouldn't be?"
"Well to share some wisdom from my own father, wherever you go, you still wake up and see the same face in the mirror."
"Words to live by."
"The old man's been around some."
"You're right about that."
"Come on now, Mental."
They turned north along the river, toward Pittsburgh; to the south it was state forest and coal mines. The coal was the reason for steel. They passed another old plant and its smokestack, it wasn't just steel, there were dozens of smaller industries that supported the mills and were supported by them: tool and die, specialty coating, mining equipment, the list went on. It had been an intricate system and when the mills shut down, the entire Valley had collapsed. Steel had been the heart. He wondered how long it would be before it all rusted away to nothing and the Valley returned to a primitive state. Only the stone would last.
For a hundred years the Valley had been the center of steel production in the country, in the entire world, technically, but in the time since Poe and Isaac were born, the area had lost 150,000 jobs--most of the towns could no longer afford basic services; many no longer had any police. As Isaac had overheard his sister tell someone from college: half the people went on welfare and the other half went back to hunting and gathering. Which was an exaggeration, but not by much.
There was no sign of any train and Poe was walking a step ahead, there was only the sound of the wind coming off the river and the gravel crunching under their feet. Isaac hoped for a long one, which all the bends in the river would keep slow. The shorter trains ran a lot faster; it was dangerous to try to catch them.
He looked out over the river, the muddiness of it, the things buried underneath. Different layers and all kinds of old crap buried in the muck, tractor parts and dinosaur bones. You aren't at the bottom but you aren't exactly at the surface, either. You are having a hard time seeing things. Hence the February swim. Hence the ripping off the old man. Feels like days since you've been home but it has probably only been two or three hours; you can still go back. No. Plenty of things worse than stealing, lying to yourself for example, your sister and the old man being champions in that. Acting like the last living souls.
Whereas you yourself take after your mother. Stick around and you're bound for the nuthouse. Embalming table. Stroll on the ice in February, the cold like being shocked. So cold you could barely breathe but you stayed until it stopped hurting, that was how she slipped in. Take it for a minute and you start to go warm. A life lesson. You would not have risen until now--April--the river gets warmer and the things that live inside you, quietly without you knowing it, it is them that make you rise. The teacher taught you that. Dead deer in winter look like bones, though in summer they swell their skins. Bacteria. Cold keeps them down but they get you in the end.
You're doing fine, he thought. Snap out of it.
But of course he could remember Poe dragging him out of the water, telling Poe I wanted to see what it felt like is all. Simple experiment. Then he was under the trees, it was dark and he was running, mud-covered, crashing through deadfall and fernbeds, there was a rushing in his ears and he came out in someone's field. Dead leaves crackling; he'd been cold so long he no longer felt cold at all. He knew he was at the end. But Poe had caught up to him again.
"Sorry what I said about your dad," he told Poe now.
"I don't give a shit," said Poe.
"We gonna keep walking like this?"
"Like what?"
"Not talking."
"Maybe I'm just being sad."
"Maybe you need to man up a little." Isaac grinned but Poe stayed serious.
"Some of us have their whole lives ahead of them. Others--"
"You can do whatever you want."
"Lay off it," said Poe.
Isaac let him walk ahead. The wind was picking up and snapping their clothes.
"You good to keep going if this storm comes in?"
"Not really," said Poe.
"There's an old plant up there once we get out of these woods. We can find a place to wait it out in there."
Product details
- Publisher : Random House Trade Paperbacks; Spiegal & Grau Paperback Edition (January 12, 2010)
- Language : English
- Paperback : 400 pages
- ISBN-10 : 0385527527
- ISBN-13 : 978-0385527521
- Item Weight : 11.2 ounces
- Dimensions : 5.47 x 0.83 x 8.23 inches
- Best Sellers Rank: #105,541 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)
- #1,938 in Family Saga Fiction
- #2,570 in Family Life Fiction (Books)
- #7,710 in Literary Fiction (Books)
- Customer Reviews:
About the author

Philipp Meyer grew up in a working class neighborhood in Baltimore, where he dropped out of high school and got a GED. After five years working as a bike mechanic and an orderly in a trauma center, he decided to attend college, getting into Cornell University at the age of 22. He graduated with a degree in English and he got a job on Wall Street as a derivatives trader. After paying off his student loans, he left Wall Street hoping write full time, but after several years of failure moved back to Baltimore and took jobs as an EMT and construction worker. In 2005 he received a fellowship from the University of Texas’s Michener Center for Writers. In 2009 he published his first novel American Rust, which won a Los Angeles Times Book Prize, was an Economist Book of the Year, a New York Times Notable Book, a Washington Post Book of the Year, and made numerous other “best-of” list. Meyer is a Guggenheim Fellow and one of the second generation of the New Yorker’s 20 best writers under 40. His second novel, The Son, is being published in fifteen languages. He lives mostly in Austin, Texas.
Customer reviews
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Learn more how customers reviews work on AmazonCustomers say
Customers find the book easy to read and enjoyable. They appreciate the honest storyline and well-written writing style. The characters are described as wonderful, authentic, and believable. Readers find the pacing fast and engaging. The style is described as beautiful, colorful, and thought-provoking.
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Customers enjoy the book. They find it interesting, well-written, and thought-provoking. The premise is believable and the story keeps readers hooked until the end.
"This is a very good American Noir Novel set in south west Pennsylvania outside of Pittsburgh...." Read more
"...It's gritty, but, man, it's good. Both the content and the form are compelling, and, in my estimation, far better than what you get these..." Read more
"...While the premise of the book is believable; such murders could happen. The actions of the two young men are sometimes a stretch to buy into...." Read more
"...Despite all this the book was engaging, thought provoking and well written. He has a distinct voice...." Read more
Customers enjoy the engaging story. They find it honest and hard to put down. The plot is suspenseful and the characters are believable. The basic framework of the book is interesting, but some readers found the ending disappointing.
"...There is one main storyline and the story is told from the perspective of numerous characters. Parts of the story are very dark, some very tense...." Read more
"...My hat is off to Philipp Meyer for writing a book that is suspenseful, layered with meaning, thought-provoking - and one that is likely to stand the..." Read more
"...the end, it just ended..not tied up with a pretty bow, but still tied up nicely...." Read more
"...The characters march to their destinies and those destinies aren't pretty...." Read more
Customers appreciate the writing style. They find it well-written and engaging. The author uses a different writing style from most authors, with sparse yet brilliant descriptions. However, some readers felt the writing was a bit slow. Overall, the book depicts what has happened to small communities.
"...Secondly he writes very well describing scenery. Both of these items matter as much to me as the story...." Read more
"...is off to Philipp Meyer for writing a book that is suspenseful, layered with meaning, thought-provoking - and one that is likely to stand the test..." Read more
"...Meyers writing is sparse, yet his descriptions are brilliant. He creates fully drawn characters with all many complications...." Read more
"...Despite all this the book was engaging, thought provoking and well written. He has a distinct voice...." Read more
Customers find the characters well-developed and authentic. They find the writing engaging and transporting them into the characters' lives and environments. The narrator is described as knowledgeable.
"...told from multiple perspectives, but we still have this sort of all-knowing narrator. Just fantastic!..." Read more
"...He creates fully drawn characters with all many complications...." Read more
"...Poe may be the book's most fascinating character. This would be a much less interesting novel if it was the standard male-bonding, no-snitching tale...." Read more
"...It's train of thought for the characters, full of thoughts that change direction mid-stream...." Read more
Customers find the book's pacing engaging. They appreciate the author's stream-of-consciousness writing style that keeps them engrossed. The inter-personal relationships feel realistic, and the local atmosphere is vividly described. Readers also mention the author's ability to make time palpable and move through it smoothly.
"...Their sense of place is delicious." Read more
"...the problems facing working class whites -- there's a lot of sincerity behind the book, but that doesn't change the fact that it simply isn't very..." Read more
"...failures and regrets as well as unique family dynamics in an intimately local setting...." Read more
"...This is not a hopeful, uplifting story. The further one goes into it, the more tragic and depressing it becomes...." Read more
Customers enjoy the book's style. They find it thought-provoking and colorful. The story provides a backdrop of what is going on in many parts of America. The character development is described as painted in many shades of gray.
"I enjoyed this book. A good look at the American dream" Read more
"...I liked the style of the book, where each chapter was through the eyes of one of the characters, and the basic framework of the book was..." Read more
"...I read and liked his style in that book. The Monthly also mentioned Meyer's first book which is this book...." Read more
"Well written in an interesting style. I will follow this author." Read more
Customers have different views on the book's content. Some find it poignant and thought-provoking, describing it as a well-constructed story that tugs at their emotions. Others find it depressing and dull, not a feel-good story.
"...It is clearly written but it is not a light read. I am definitely going to look for another novel by this author, but not immediately...." Read more
"...for writing a book that is suspenseful, layered with meaning, thought-provoking - and one that is likely to stand the test of time...." Read more
"...a very well written novel, but one that I just found impossible to like very much...." Read more
"...The author does a wonderful job of conveying the sense of desperation, hopelessness and despair of the residents of this failed town...." Read more
Customers have different views on the book's pace. Some find it good and engaging, while others feel it's slow and boring. The conclusion is praised for being quick-paced.
"I almost quit this book several times - because it moved so painfully slow. But the magic of the characters kept bringing me back...." Read more
"...of their town after the closing of its steel mill create a fast-moving, suspenseful drama. I love reading books I don’t want to put down...." Read more
"...However, toward the end, the pace suddenly speeds up, the conclusion comes far more quickly than the rest of the story was told, and the conflict..." Read more
"Book was a little slow in the beginning when the author was throwing a lot of people at you at once...." Read more
Reviews with images

Great read. From a former Fayette co. Resident.
Top reviews from the United States
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- Reviewed in the United States on January 21, 2024This is a very good American Noir Novel set in south west Pennsylvania outside of Pittsburgh. There is one main storyline and the story is told from the perspective of numerous characters. Parts of the story are very dark, some very tense. It is clearly written but it is not a light read. I am definitely going to look for another novel by this author, but not immediately. I need to find something lighter for the moment. This is intense,
As far as writing, the author accomplishes at least two things that matter to me when I read fiction. First he makes me care about the characters and identity with them. Secondly he writes very well describing scenery. Both of these items matter as much to me as the story. As a retired Pennsylvania State Policeman who worked in Fayette County the story, although slightly unrealistic, really captivated me. Obviously that may be idiosyncratic. Thank You for taking the time to read this review.
- Reviewed in the United States on May 23, 2013I bought this book as a birthday gift for my husband and ended up reading it myself. This is the kind of book that, two years ago, I would have stayed up all night finishing in one sitting. Now I have a kid, so I had to settle for reading it over the span of a week. One of the minor sacrifices that comes with being a parent.
I had very high expectations for the book after reading only the epigraph, and, ultimately, I wasn't disappointed. My hat is off to Philipp Meyer for writing a book that is suspenseful, layered with meaning, thought-provoking - and one that is likely to stand the test of time. It's gritty, but, man, it's good.
Both the content and the form are compelling, and, in my estimation, far better than what you get these days from most contemporary novels.
Regarding the novel's form, the mode of narration is pure genius - nothing else would have done for this story. A great many novels these days are told "from multiple perspectives," so much so, that, frankly, I'm getting a little tired of it. Sometimes I wonder if the disappearing omniscient narrator is a sign of the times. The closer we move toward moral relativism, the less likely we are to trust a narrator who claims to have the market on objective truth. The god-like narrator is dying, a shame in my eyes. And herein lies the brilliance of Philipp Meyer. The mode of narration throughout is third-person selective omniscient; however, the "selective" part alternates from character to character. So, in a sense, the story is told from multiple perspectives, but we still have this sort of all-knowing narrator. Just fantastic!
The content of the novel is so rich, cut from the same mold as other existentialist-type stories I've really enjoyed, like The Stranger, Siddhartha and The Plague. The universe in which the characters find themselves is a godless one, and, as a result, they are constantly bumping up against the absurdity of their existence as they try to make moral choices, define themselves and live honorable, dignified lives. Dripping from every page is this sense of total despair at the seeming irrationality of it all. The ideas that anchor the book combined with the author's knack for verisimilitude make this a chilling read. I felt like I was transported to the setting of the novel.
- Reviewed in the United States on August 16, 2013Two rather hapless young men "accidentally" murder a homeless man. Well, maybe not accidentally, but they didn't start out to do that act which provides the basis for this entire story. Set in a depressed section of Pennsylvania after the collapse of the steel industry, this story is told from the perspective of six individuals whose lives are drastically affected by this murder: the two young men, a sister and father to one, the mother of the other, and a local sheriff who is also the mother's lover.
While the premise of the book is believable; such murders could happen. The actions of the two young men are sometimes a stretch to buy into. One is supposedly brilliant which opportunities to go to Ivy League schools; the other was a football hero with opportunities to attend any number of good colleges on a football scholarship. Both manage to throw away their futures. Isaac runs away from a disabled father hitch-hiking to California and goes from bad to worse to pathetic. Poe finds himself in a horrible prison arrested for the murder (which was actually committed by Isaac)and refuses to help himself; he blindly seems to accept his fate.
The narratives told by each of the six characters telling the story vary according to style. There is a lot of angst and stream of consciousness in Isaac's telling. The style of writing is quite different when the father, sister or sheriff tell the story. This is obviously a very well written novel, but one that I just found impossible to like very much. All of these characters had such tremendous character flaws and none seemed really to want to help themselves other than the sister who made it out of this town to Harvard. Yet, even she though newly married comes back and has an affair with Poe whose life consists of drinking beer in front of the TV. I found it a bit hard to believe that an old high school boyfriend could still be that alluring.
I read this after reading Meyer's The Sonnewest novel "The Son" which was absolutely wonderful. I was disappointed in this one.
Top reviews from other countries
- Dale W.Reviewed in Canada on January 4, 2022
5.0 out of 5 stars Great Novel
I just finished reading "American Rust" and extremely happy with the purchase. The story is told through 6 different characters and how their lives are affected by a single act. It's a great read and hard to believe it's the author's first book. It's a masterpiece. I look forward to reading Philipp Meyer's next book titled "The Son".
- Miss Shirley J MooreReviewed in the United Kingdom on September 4, 2020
5.0 out of 5 stars An excellent read.
I'm still reading this book and really enjoying it. The tale is of real people and describes situations in life that cause a knock on effect to those around them, the lives of human beings that overlap one another's sometimes with disasterous effects. The descriptions of the corrosion of Industrial America and the American Dream for the characters is visual and palpable, and gives us recognizable evidence of the changing times and loss of values.
The book arrived within a few days of my ordering it and in perfect condition. I will pass this book onto friends to read and I shall look at other of Philipp Meyer's books.
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Client d'AmazonReviewed in France on November 1, 2016
5.0 out of 5 stars Excellent roman
Après avoir lu "Le fils" du même auteur, j'ai souhaité découvrir son premier roman "American rust" où j'ai retrouvé un style et une écriture dignes des grands romanciers américains. A lire absolument!
- Gerhard MersmannReviewed in Germany on August 11, 2012
5.0 out of 5 stars Downfall and Desperation
Young Philipp Meyer marked in his biography milestones that could be of advantage for becoming a good writer. He grew up in Baltimore and knows what it means if a city or region is facing decline from a former prosperity. Meyer himself quitted school, worked with traumatized youngsters, travelled around and had jobs as a construction worker. All is not the pre-condition for good writing but concerning the ability to identify and emphasize social context it can be very helpful.
American Rust, a narrative masterpiece of current american prose fiction is chosen to happen in the aera of Pittsburg P.A., the former El Dorado of coal and steel, the black country itself in the United States. Like Englands black country and Germans Ruhrgebiet it went down in the eighties and nineties and there was no limit of suffering not to be reached. The downfall of a whole region had consequences on every aspect of life: Former good earning workers lost their jobs, became poor clients living from funds, lost their prospects and self esteem. Family dramas followed, alcoholism, drug abuse and growing criminality.
Meyers protagonists in American Rust are youngsters who remained in the region despite the chance to get out there. In a normal constellation of daily struggle something fatal happened and somebody lay dead on the ground. Poe, the strong buddy with a loyal soul, is charged for murder and Isaac, the introversed antipode, is hitting the road to California where he never will be seen. Isaacs father Henry and his sister Lee, Poes mother Grace and her time to time lover Harris, the police agent in charge, are the actors of a masterful written drama. Meyer changes the point of view and the progress of the social texture with these people who are all very interesting characters with their own history and motivation, with their own traumas and tragedies.
It becomes clear that at the end there will be no winners. The further going question wich remains during the process of reading is who will lose most and who less. We get an impression of the whole dimension of desolation caused by the economic downfall of thatregion. Like the German writer Stefan Heym, who was for some years in exile in the U.S and who lived as a journalist in Pittsburg P.A. in the early fifties, the characterization of the people in his novel Goldsborough (1953), although done in a time of prosperity, comes to similar results as Meyers. And it reminds of the people in other black countries. Even in in times of downfall and desperation they are heros. A beautiful book for those who love human beings who never give up, whether it makes sense or not.
- Linda GregoryReviewed in Australia on January 2, 2016
5.0 out of 5 stars An excellent and interesting read.
An excellent read. Very insightful about the state of the decline in some parts of the US, and how lives are affected.
Easy to read and at the same time captures the reader into the lives and events of the characters.