WITH THE recent passing of John Updike and the loss of Kurt Vonnegut last year, the American literary landscape is faced with a gaping void that will never be filled. And as publishers reduce their annual number of titles and newspapers continue to decrease the space allotted for book reviews (not this one, thankfully) it might be easy for a reader to drop into pessimism if not downright cynicism. But fortunately for us, as readers, there are occasional reasons to hope.

Philipp Meyer's debut novel, "American Rust," is one of those reasons to hope. This is not to suggest that it alone will resuscitate the moribund publishing industry or that Meyer has tucked away a cure for cancer in its pages, but rather to say that there are still fine novels being written by voices that should be heard. And if this first novel is any indication, Meyer is a young talent to watch closely, in anticipation of his next book.

"American Rust" is set in a small western Pennsylvania town where there are no jobs and the only real reason that some stay is that they've known little else. The way Meyer describes the landscape and countryside, it seems that if one is jobless there is no better way to spend countless hours than staring out over the lush valleys and streams. Into the placidity Meyer drops a murder (no disservice to the reader here since it occurs early and is blurbed on the dust jacket) and "American Rust" begins its splendid journey.

Meyer's tempo is exceptional, and he creates a good deal of the novel's suspense by switching between viewpoints of the assorted characters from chapter to chapter. His descriptions are vivid, be they of the hills and rivers or of the damage an industrial ball bearing can do to a human skull when thrown with great velocity.

"American Rust" is a somber book and not one that is likely to send one's spirit soaring, and about halfway through the reader starts to get a slightly queasy feeling that the end of "American Rust" will make the final scene in Hamlet look like a child's game of London Bridge.

But Meyer's ending surprised me, and I'm still not certain I liked how he finished it. But the fact that I'm still mulling it over is a testament to the staying power of the book.

It would be unfair and an overstatement to call "American Rust" a perfect novel, but it is a special one well worth reading, and hopefully one that portends greater things from Philipp Meyer.

Drew Gallagher is a freelance reviewer in Spotsylvania County.