Nomadland: Surviving America in the Twenty-First Century

by Jessica Bruder

I WANTED TO SEE this new kind of company town for myself. When I mentioned that to a former CamperForce recruiter, he suggested the best time to visit would be late October, because “folks wouldn’t be quite so exhausted yet.” I took that advice, arriving in Fernley the week before Halloween in 2013. By then, workers had already crammed into lots as far as thirty-five miles away from the Amazon warehouse, including the RV parking area at the Grand Sierra Resort & Casino in Reno. (Linda was among this crowd, staying in the nearby town of Fallon, but I didn’t know it at the time and wouldn’t encounter her until three months later in Arizona.) Many of these mobile home parks had booked up months in advance and had long waiting lists. The most popular—it offered the shortest commute—was the Desert Rose RV Park, a gravel patch bounded by Highway 50 and bisected with high-voltage wires that crackled audibly overhead. There CamperForce workers had set out doormats and patio furniture. They’d hung wind chimes and bird feeders from the cottonwoods and raised flags emblazoned with “AMERICA THE BEAUTIFUL” and “IT’S FIVE O’CLOCK SOMEWHERE.” A few displayed homemade yard art, which included a cantaloupe-sized flying eyeball mounted on an inverted steering column, with several forks welded to each side for wings. Others had put up Halloween decorations: hay bales, dried cornstalks, a pumpkin covered in pink glitter. And when they weren’t beautifying their own parking spots, they engaged ...