Beneath the Neon: Life and Death in the Tunnels of Las Vegas

When I first got this book, I planned on spending a few weeks reading it--that didn't happen--I found it hard to find a place to stop, as I kept wanting to know what character I would meet next or what sticky situation the author would run into. The author does an excellent job of painting a picture of what life is like in the storm drains of Las Vegas, yet does so in a way that allows the reader's imagination to run wild. As others have mentioned, it is very interested seeing a "different" side of Las Vegas, a side that most do not know exists. The irony of what lies just below the streets of The Entertainment Capital of the World it all is almost overwhelming. Certainly a great read.

For all those interested in creative nonfiction, particularly about the underground existence of those crippled by poverty, drug abuse and an uncaring world, I would highly recommend "Beneath the Neon." I recently completed reading the second printing, which has a smoother writing style. Matt O'Brien pulls threads together to create a cohesive, complicated exploration story. The flashbacks to his original CityLife stories (co-authored with tech guru Josh Ellis) fit perfectly into the narrative. A true urban explorer's journal. Each storm drain he explores is given a title and chapter. Images and themes stand out in each chapter. The Welcome Drain (ch. 1): Lawrence's tale of a unique Las Vegas, a city fed by failure. The Cappadocia Drain: fascinating history and research. A mysterious troll. The Midnight Drain: a great geography metaphor. The skid row beneath the Hard Rock. The Valley View Drain: a mother visits her son. Crack pipes and a crazy crack whore. Couple skating under the Strip. The Street Kids Drain: poignant underground graffiti and a cliff hanger. The Death Drain: a subterranean Emeril Lagasse. Here O'Brien also confronts his own inner turmoil: what should be done for (or with?) all of these people (about 300) who live in the storm drains. He, like all of us, struggles with the solutions. We discover through O'Brien's interviews that some people flourish underground, and do their best when left alone. He writes that the city "eats its children...Everything here is as disposable as a razor blade -- except for the storm drains." He describes the tunnels as time capsules and homeless shelters. The Flood Drain: an underground art gallery, and the realization that it is the most beautiful thing he's ever seen in Las Vegas. How to Make Meth, according to Gary. Demons and ghosts in the tunnels (real and imagined). You're left with a few dim conclusions: yes, people can make a storm drain home. Sadness lurks beneath Las Vegas. Loneliness is an addict's balm for the pain inflicted by others. And all of those things are just as true for us living up here in the light. O'Brien and Ellis discovered an area of Las Vegas few people knew existed. And it's one that all of us should want to understand. I also recommend listening to the NPR story about O'Brien and the book. "Beneath the Neon" has gotten a lot of national and international attention. There's a lot more to Vegas than its pretty neon coating. As a local, I'm relieved to read about it.

Writing a book about tunnels under a city can almost always spark interest in readers. There are so many tunnels, and so many cities that have them - an astonishing number, in nearly every country of the world. However, most anything written about underground spaces of the cities that have them range from ultra-dry Corps of Engineer type-documents to historical works of varying merit, some of which slide more into myth instead of fact. In other words, there is little written about under city tunnels that is both interesting and factual. Las Vegas and its tunnels, and Matthew O'Brian's telling of them, is quite different, and of a much higher caliber. His book is "Beneath The Neon." Matthew brings a human touch of reality and immediacy to the people who live below Las Vegas, who are in continual danger of their lives. "Beneath The Neon" therefore, is a very interesting, entertaining and factual book. Take the tunnels of Orange County, in Southern California, for instance, which has miles of tunnels and spaces, many as wide as the four lanes above them, all of which are bone dry and empty of life. Most of these tunnels channel into massive floodways, snaking through the Los Angeles basin, and eventually empty into the Pacific. Of the few times a decade that they are full of water, people are amazed at both the volume and speed of the water. Whoever gets caught in one of these channels has little hope of survival. Go here for a look at the scope of the tunnels under Los Angeles. Then there is the Burro Schmidt Tunnel in the upper Mojave desert, a couple of hours north of L.A., built over a number of years by a single individual, through solid granite. Here is a link. Secret tunnels of historical significance and mystery can be found under San Francisco. And under Seattle. Cities don't have a monopoly on tunnels either. Colleges and universities sometimes have their own. Here is a similar link. But by far the biggest and most astonishing underground of all, is under Tokyo. Many tunnels have small collections of people; homeless, addicts, and iconoclasts. The only apparent exception is Los Angeles, where there are no homeless living in the wide, dry, and accommodating tunnels. It is not that these tunnels are policed, it is just that the homeless there are likely smart enough to know better. But what really interests O'Brien are the homeless people who live in the tunnels under the bright oven that is Las Vegas. He estimates that there are 300 people at any time, who are living in small encampments throughout the tunnel system, and in the course of his research, he got to know many of them. There is evidence of these people everywhere: an old set of pans; heaps of garbage, including many old mattresses; and graffiti. If you were to wander through the tunnels, you would never know it was 110 degrees or more just above your head. Down there it's quiet, dark, cool--and wet. You would think the tunnels are dangerous, but O'Brien said they don't f

Matthew O'Brien's "Beneath the Neon: Life and Death in the Tunnels of Las Vegas" is a fascinating read. The author's experiences became mine as I fearfully explored the storm drains with him. He masterfully conveyed his feelings of fear, awe, amazement, and compassion for those who inhabit the bleak tunnels beneath the posh hotel/casino complexes that are the public face of Las Vegas.

I just finished reading Matthew O'Brien's book Beneath The Neon, which is a story as the subtitle clearly suggests about "Life and Death in the Tunnels of Las Vegas." It got me thinking about stories, particularly about their beginning and endings; for more reason than that of their natural structure. But because I feel that beginnings and endings can be devastatingly sincere. His stories began with intrigue, mystery, possibility as most good stories should. His endings were honest, painful and in most cases profound. His endings were the kind of endings that make you pause before you turn the page, that make you take a deep sigh of introspection as you search your own thoughts for personal understanding, because what you just read you know, you understand and have found that intellectual conection that only good authors and sincere human beings can provide.