Methland: The Death and Life of an American Small Town

I just surfaced from reading this book and found it utterly absorbing. Nick Reding does an excellent job explaining the political and sociocultural underpinnings of the meth epidemic while also managing to focus our attention on a real-life small town struggling with the ugly realities of meth. This was a huge undertaking and, in my opinion, a successful one, since I was rooting for the town and its inhabitants at the same time I was shaking a fist at the pharm companies, lobbyists, and politicians (not to mention the Mexican cartels). I love books like this that really get to the roots of an issue. I also found Reding's voice refreshingly straightforward, even when describing a few of the disastrous, tragic consequences of meth addicts. His insights are keen, especially when he observes the attitudes of some people (and by extension, all of us) towards meth addicts: he refuses to demonize the people themselves and calls the readers out on any attempt to shut the book and say, "Wow, I'm sure glad that has nothing to do with me." Reding argues effectively that Oelwein is a microcosm of America, warning that what will happen to Oelwein will come to affect us all. This book and Dave Cullen's _Columbine_ are at the top of my nonfiction list and I have recommended them to all of my reader-friends.

I was dismayed with Dr. Mason's literary critique as I perused through the reviews of Nick Reding's "Methland." I just read it while on vacation, having taken interest in the subject as my homestate of Montana has been way out ahead of anywhere in the nation with its anti-meth campaign, and I also have read Mr. Reding's other book, "The Last Cowboys at the End of the World." I found both books to be well-written stories, and worthy of consideration. Indeed, if I thought it was not written well, I'd have no problem saying so. But, I am writing this comment to tell potential readers to ignore Mason's scurrilous and specious review because it is replete with inaccuracies. I wonder if he actually read the book, and if he did, if he didn't develop a chip on his shoulder because an outsider was writing about his county. This would cloud anyone's objectivity, and apparently, it has, as several of the doctor's points are easily refuted by someone who simply paid attention to what was written. Indeed, it would seem as if the reviewer is jealous he was not a source or something, like he knows better. Here are a few examples of how Mason's critical review is plain wrong: 1) The Oelwein police chief's name is Jeremy LOGAN, not "Love." The fact that Dr. Mason lives in Fayette, Iowa, and insists he knows about Oelwein as if he lives there seems suspect if he doesn't know the police chief's name. This also makes his contention that Reding should have spoken to the sheriff seem like "my source knows more than your source." It makes sense that Mason knows the county sheriff, but that is not who Mr. Reding is writing about in this very specific story of Oelwein--not Fayette County. Reding says this in his first couple of pages in the introduction. 2) Mr. Reding states plainly that he is comparing Oelwein's poverty statistics to URBAN rates, where the majority of Americans (hence likely readers of his book) live. Mason takes what Reding says and adds an analytic layer that takes Mr. Redings argument out of context. I can't speak for Mr. Reding, but I assume he did this for a reason--and likely not a conspiratorial reason as Mason suggests: Meth is a horrible problem, why on earth would someone cook the figures to make this point? The point is self-evident that small towns are drying up everywhere--I've read this in the Economist, Time, and saw it on one of those prime time news magazine shows and heard it on NPR. How in the world is Mr. Reding missing facts? It is common knowledge, and he simply puts a stat to it. 3) Reding plainly states, again, that this book depends on five people: the mayor, the doctor, the police chief, the assistant county prosecutor, and a meth addict; for its views of Oelwein. I believe it is the writer's perspective of who he wants to maintain as his main characters. He is the writer, after all, and it is his prerogative on how best to tell a story. As a reader, I can't imagine having anymore main characters to keep track of, especial

Yesterday I retraced the route I first drove with Nick that first day I met him in 2005. I drove by the houses I identified to him as places where methamphetamine had been cooked or distributed. One has been torn down, one still appears dilapidated or "burned out." The other one I barely recognized because it is in such good shape with obvious care and attention being lavished upon it. Oelwein, like many other rural communities, has changed significantly since Nick started this book. Our transformation, thankfully has been extremely positive. We have a new library, a sewer treatment plant that is not violating Clean Water Act Regulations, an absolutely gorgeous downtown area, 400 new jobs in the last 18 months, a microbrewery with multistate distribution agreements, new shops and restuarants, and a new community college campus that allows high school kids to take the kinds of classes previously only available to prep school kids, or kids in major urban centers and allowing them to graduate with an A.A. degree the same day they get their high school diplomas. My point is simply this: None of the above listed things were here that day Nick and I went to Leo's for lunch. The town was (and still is in some ways) suffering from all the forces described by Nick. There was a palatable sense of despair. The last two chapters describe the start of the transformation, but all books end, and Oelwein's story definitely has not. The problem is insidious and scary. As of 6.15.2009 52% of my juvenile case load is still because of methamphetamine use/addiction. The police are still arresting dealers and finding purer and more addictive product from Mexico. Nick's research methods looked pretty solid to me. The Fayette County Sheriff's Office did have input. I was there when Nick and the Chief Deputy sat down together. Nick did contact colleges in the area. I was not privy to those conversations, but I know they were had. I know some conversations were not held because of refusal to return phone calls and emails. Are there some inacuracies? Yes, on the micro detail level, but they certainly do not detract from the story or affect it negatively. The lines drawn from point A to point B are 100% in my professional training and experience. Nick was able to treat Oelwein fairly and report on an example of a town trying to find its way in a global economy. Oelwein and I both found hope during the writing of this book in spite of obstacles thrown up in our path, sometimes by the very government I represent on the front lines of the drug war.

"Methland" tells at least four important stories simultaneously - 1)How a small Iowa town (Oelwin) went from prosperous to an economic basket-case and back, while becoming first infested with local meth labs and then free of their scourge. 2)How illegals from Mexico are vaporizing well-paying jobs that American natives formerly filled. 3)Why America's "War on Drugs" is a farce. 4)Life, as experienced by several key players in Oelwin's experience with drugs. By May, 2005, Reding reports that half the buildings on Oelwin's main street stood vacant, foot traffic was practically non-existent, seven in ten children lived below the poverty line, burned-out homes of former meth labs dotted the town, and the high school principal was arranging for police to patrol the halls with a drug-sniffing dog. (As a cross-country truck driver with a penchant for off-route travel, I can attest to the sad economic plight of most small towns.) Iowans saw 1,370 meth labs seized in 2004, up from 321 in 1998, and Nathan Lein, Asst. Co. Attorney, estimated 95% of his cases were related to drugs (including a 3-year left alone for a week to take care of his younger sibling). Reding follows Roland Jarvis, a worker at the meat plant, who had seen wages fall from $18/hour with benefits (1992) to $6.20/hour, without benefits as the plant was sold (closed in 2006 - the number of workers had dropped from 800 to 99) and populated by illegals often solicited in Mexico by offers of two months free rent (up to 22 in a two-bedroom home). Roland Jarvis began using meth to fuel 16-hour work days at the meat plant trying to establish a nest egg for a new family, and progressed to setting up his own meth lab as wages fell. A meth-cooking accident created a fire that burned his mother's home down, hospitalized Jarvis for three months, and disfigured him for life (lost his nose, much of his skin melted, his fingers became nubs). Yet, despite repeated trips to prison by both Jarvis (7 out of the last 10 years) and his mother, four heart attacks, a child requiring a kidney transplant because of maternal meth abuse during pregnancy, and almost no remaining teeth, Roland continued to use meth throughout the span of the book. Reding also meets Lori Arnold (Tom's sister), who starts as a runner for illicit meth prescription users in Ottumwa, and progresses to manufacturing her own meth while buying a bar, car dealership, 14 homes and a 144-acre horse farm to hide and facilitate operations. Imprisoned for 8 years, she too is unable to break the habit - though the local $7/hour work alternative without benefits at the meat plant wearing a 50-lb. protective suit in near-freezing temperatures didn't help either. The New York Times reported in 2001 that 40% of agricultural workers were illegals. (Imagine what it is now.) Ultimately, the mayor's (upgrade sewers and roads to attract new businesses), prosecutor's, and police chief's (stop almost everything that moved in an effort to check for drug

Everyone has heard of the meth epidemic; its scary effects on human life and the social fabric have been in the papers and on the news nationwide for what seems like a very long time. As meth gained a high public profile, many people have looked at the isolated elements of what we now call the drug wars. What we haven't had is any insight into how meth came to occupy a central place in so many lives and so many towns. More than a description of how bad it all is, this book attempts something much more ambitious: explaining how the political and social dynamics work to make meth what it is. Reding's argument of how the intersection of Big Pharma, Big Agra, mis-directed governmental action (and inaction), labor economics, sociology, and human greed brought us to this dangerous place is laid out against a narrative about a real town and its all-too-real people. Reding has a journalist's soul and he writes like a novelist. While there are several heroic characters in Oelwein, not everyone in the story is admirable; however, he respect their humanity and has a certain sympathy for the mesh they are caught in. The final section, which is about why this matters to us and how we can think about it, is nuanced and layered--there are no easy answers but there are some important ways we can think about it as we move forward.