Desert Island

Willy Vlautin's Reno is America without the apple pie.

by Will Doig

May 27, 2008

Willy Vlautin grew up in Reno, the smaller, poorer, less-loved Nevada metropolis, a place more often frequented by gambling addicts than bachelorettes. Blanketed by low-rent casinos, seedy motels and trailer parks, this city sets the tone for Vlautin's second novel, Northline, the story of Allison Johnson, a girl trying to escape a drinking problem and an abusive boyfriend.

Vlautin was my favorite new novelist of 2007, when he made his publishing debut with The Motel Life, a tale of two brothers hiding from the Reno police after one of them accidentally runs down a kid on a bicycle. That book earned Vlautin comparisons to Charles Bukowski and S.E. Hinton, and Northline will likely magnify such comparisons with its overcast worldview and blue-collar sensibility. A simple, familiar story that houses a clear-eyed lightness beneath its gravelly exterior, it's earned Vlautin plaudits as a chronicler of the new Western frontier. He spoke to Hooksexup about the book. — Will Doig

Your books don't seem targeted toward urban East Coast liberals, yet I couldn't put either of them down. Why do you think that is?
Maybe people like reading about people who have rougher lives than they do. I've always tried to keep away from typical "working-class stories," where they're dying for money, or dying to get out of there. My characters are accepting of the kind of house they live in and the kind of car they drive. It's not a struggle to get out as much as a struggle to just stay afloat.

Your first book, The Motel Life, dealt with semi-homeless people living in cheap motels. Why did you decide to write about that?
In Reno, there are so many motels, and the older ones — the ones with the great marquees — no one really stays in them as a tourist anymore. Haven't for years. They've become residential motels. I think people mean to move into them just for a week or two, until they get back on their feet. But it's hard to get out if you make just enough to pay the weekly rate, which is more expensive than an apartment would be. And to get an apartment you have to have a steady job, enough money for first and last, for electricity and gas. Or, if you're an illegal [immigrant] or have credit problems, people won't rent to you. And the next thing you know, six months pass, a year passes, and you end up living that life.

How do you think this motel-dwelling population affects the psyche of a place like Reno?
I think it's hard. One of the great things my mom taught me was, if you have a decent place to live, you'll think better of yourself. And in my life it's been true: when you live in a halfway-respectable place, you don't feel like such a bum.

When that book came out, someone asked you if you wrote it in a seedy motel, and you said no because that environment makes you nervous. And in another interview, you said that happy, successful people make you nervous. Who doesn't make you nervous?
I've always felt pretty nervous around people. That's why I always used to go to old-man bars when I was younger. You get to meet a bunch of different, weird people, and you don't have to compare yourself or beat yourself up. Ever since I was like sixteen or seventeen, I would flock to those places.

Do you like seedy places in general?
I like the seedy side of things, but it's hard to feel comfortable if you're in a motel room where there's a guy beating up somebody in the next room. I remember I was staying in this motel, and this really drunk guy started beating on the door, saying, "Let me in! This is my room!" And I looked out the window and he was just this freaking huge guy. It's hard to write or do much of anything when that shit's happening. But I'm a huge fan of motels — you just got to stay away from the junkie-hooker ones because they're a pain in the ass and the rooms are kind of sketchy.

The Motel Life seemed targeted to a male audience, but this one is written from the perspective of a woman.
Yeah, women seem to like Northline, which is great. I was worried about that.

Even though its protagonist is a woman, I'm guessing there are autobiographical elements to it.
I mean, I write these stories to just get myself — I write them to not go crazy. I wrote Northline because the way I was raised is a lot like how Allison Johnson was raised, and I needed to figure it out, figure out if she was going to make it. And in a way, just by writing, it makes my life easier.

Are you saying that by giving Allison a positive trajectory, it helps you feel like you can obtain a positive trajectory for your own life?
As silly as that is, yeah. I wrote her story to show how people that screw up or are weak or make really bad decisions can still bounce back. The only thing you can do if you have anxiety problems or confidence problems or have been dealt a rough hand is get up every morning and try to do a little bit better than you did the day before, with the belief that if you do that, someday you'll conquer — at least partially — your darker side. I hope so anyway, for my own sake. [laughs]

Did you have a drinking problem similar to Allison's?
Aw, shit, man, anxiety and drinking go hand-in-hand for me. Yeah, I've always beaten myself up better than anybody, and I was always really shy and had problems in social, public situations. I'm a lot like her, really. It's just not as dramatic. I'm a better drinker than her. I don't black out. I think that book was me trying to get a handle on it, though — on anxiety versus drinking. And to be a big drinker, it's a way of life, so you pay a price for being a drunk, and I think she's learned that.

I think I drink for the same reasons — to quiet the self-critic.
Yeah, you drink a few beers and you stop thinking about those things. The amazing thing to me is, if you ever talked to your mother or your friend the way you talk to your inner self, they'd kill you, you know what I mean? Some of the stuff Allison Johnson says to herself — it's a really bad habit to sit there and beat the shit out of yourself. And I've done it. I'm really good at it. I'm trying to be better at that, but fuck man, that's like trying to change who you are.