Interviews

Nick Reding

In the second edition of our monthly interview series, American Polymath editor Clayton Trutor chats with journalist Nick Reding, author of Methland: The Death and Life of an American Small Town. Methland is the product of nearly a decade of research into the crystal methamphetamine epidemic which has proven particularly destructive in rural America. Reding focused his research on Oelwein, Iowa, a town of just under 7,000 near where his father grew up in Eastern Iowa. Methland describes the lives of people on all sides of the epidemic: dealers, addicts, victims, and members of the community struggling to save their town. Oelwein was once a booming agricultural and meatpacking center. The consolidation of big agro-business and the move away from high paying union work in favor of a low wage, service-based economy sets the backdrop for the story. Reding shows how addiction and drug-related crime both exacerbate and reflect the marginalization of the rural working class. Methland is undoubtedly one of the most important books of 2009. Like preceding generations of Midwestern writers, Reding is a witness to his times, one who merits the attention of everyone interested in preserving the dignity of everyday American lives.

American Polymath: What sparked your interest in this topic?

Nick Reding: First, I thought it was a good story. Back in 1999, when I began reporting on it, I'd never heard of meth, despite the fact it seemed incredibly prevalent in many small towns I visited. That alone was enough. But what really got me was how suddenly and completely it became a major force in the life of towns near where I grew up in Saint Louis, MO. By 2004, it was everywhere, and I didn't see a choice but to write about it.

AP: Methland ties the rise of methamphetamines in Oelwein to the decline of union work, family farms, and locally-based commerce. Did the rise of meth in Oelwein lead to a declining sense of class consciousness among the community’s working class?

NR: I'd say the opposite was true. Meth became a catalyst for class dissension, insofar as addicts seemed more likely--despite their actual class--to be considered trash, even by non-addicts of the same economic strata.

AP: I lived for a time in the Midwest. Compared to the East Coast, it strikes me as having a distinctly socially and culturally egalitarian character. Does meth contribute to social segregation or a breakdown in sociability in rural communities like Oelwein?

NR: Meth by all means contributes to segregation in a place like Oelwein. I, too, have always had the perception of egalitarianism in the Midwest, though I think, in reality, that class distinction is every bit as endemic to a small town as it is to a bigger city. It's just that it takes a subtler form. Meth, though, disposes of the subtlety and makes things stark and clear. Users are lessers, period.

AP: What did you think of the movie Iowa, the independent film which dealt with the meth epidemic?

NR: I didn't think it was very realistic, though I think its heart was in the right place. In fact, that film influenced me a lot, in that I didn't want the book defined by the extremes that define the film, in which every fringy, horrible thing imaginable happens to the meth-addicted protagonists, from sado-masochistic rape to a toilet-seat abortion to murder. I don't think the extreme defines the median, or even approximates it. What I wanted was a book that showed the everyday effects of meth and economics on mostly everyday people, and so that's what I went for.

AP: How would you compare the media reaction to the rise of meth in the last ten years to their coverage of the rise of crack during the 1980s?

NR: I don't really remember the crack coverage of the 80s, to be honest, nor did I study it much for this book. I'd bet, though, that the media failed to look deeply into what crack stood for, just as they failed to see that meth is really a chance to see long-term downward economic and social trends in their full effect. That's to say, the question is WHY had crack become so associated with urban poverty, and how did this particular kind of blight come about? What was the political basis for it, the ethnographic basis, the cultural basis? That, to me, is the story not just of crack or meth, but of anything.

AP: Is there anything particular to life in a small town which makes it particularly difficult to kick drug addiction?

NR: Yeah: no money. Human services aren't going to get funding if you can't keep the street lights on at night, pay the cops, or keep the high school afloat.

AP: Were meth abusers in Oelwein also abusing prescription drugs like vicodin?

NR: I think there was crossover with Oxycontin, though the two drugs I saw abused along with crank the most were alcohol and cigarettes.

AP: Did you come across any cultural touchstones common to meth users (music, film, television, books)?

NR: Good question. There was a lot of crossover with the heavy metal, biker crowd, along with a significant proportion of white supremacists. If a shaved head was one of two hairstyles most frequently worn by tweakers, the other would have to have been long hair or a mullet.

AP: What writers and works inspire your own work as a writer?

NR: I have to say, I rarely read full-length nonfiction or novels. Most of my time is spent reading newspapers, The New Yorker, and collections of short stories, even though short-form writing is something I can't do at all. Aside from Raymond Carver, most of the stories I like are by southern writers. I can just relate to them so much better. I love Tony Early, Katherine Anne Porter, and Cormac McCarthy, to name just a few.

AP: Would you place your work within a broader Midwestern literary tradition, including the likes of Lewis, Sinclair, Dreiser, and Cather?

NR: Wow, I don't know. I think I'll leave that to someone else.

AP: Since the publication of Methland, have you received much feedback from current or former meth users?

NR: Yeah, I've gotten a lot of emails from addicts and former addicts most of whom seem to think I hit the nail on the head. I'm very, very proud of that.