Hillbilly Elegy: A Memoir of a Family and Culture in Crisis

I’m often concerned that American culture is increasingly splitting into two groups that don’t interact much. Our politics and our regionalism tends to reinforce that. There are a few voices which seem to traverse the divide, and Vance’s is one of them.

Specifically, he traverses the Appalachia/Rust-Belt divide with Northeastern elites. As such, he can speak to both audiences at the same time while enlightening us all about his experiences.

Vance’s family life was incredibly chaotic. His biological father disowned him; his mother was an addict; he bounced around from home to home as a child. Were it not for his Mamaw, he probably would not have even gone to college, much less to law school. However, instead, he went into the show more Marines, fought in Iraq, and then voyaged onto his successful educational ventures.

I admire Vance’s strength and covet his wisdom. This book can be especially helpful for young adults just starting out in life. It is quite inspirational. I also recommend it for those who, like me, wish to encourage dialog of disparate cultures in our country. It reads quickly and easily but impacts profoundly. show less

Like many people, I dove into this book not because I particularly was interested in the memoir of a thirty-something, but to better understand how such a vocal Trump critic became his sycophantic running mate in 2024.

I think the answers are within this book--the search for a father figure, gravitating to violent macho types, letting that search drag him into Pentecostal nuttery, a hair-trigger temper beneath the surface, and a constant desire to escape his surroundings. It doesn't all have to add up to Trump running mate, but it certainly helped me make more sense of what seemed a purely craven power-lusting act (which it could, of course, still be).

As for the book itself? If ever David Hackett Fischer wanted to create a person and show more book to sell someone on the salience of his argument in Albion's Seed, this is that person and book. I will end this review on that cryptic note! show less

"I consumed books about social policy and the working poor." (pg. 144).

Hillbilly Elegy is a decently-wrought book that has been dealt a fatal blow (to its credibility, if not its sales) through its championing by established media. Author J. D. Vance's timing is admittedly impeccable: he wrote a slick, marketable and fundamentally inoffensive book about the 'left-behinds' at a time when the affluent and the self-involved elites are aghast at the horridness of the Trump election and at recent setbacks for militant progressivism in the minds of ordinary people. This book, they preach, tells you all you need to know about why these ghastly things happened. (The cover of the UK edition crudely tacks Brexit onto this – "'A great insight show more into Trump and Brexit' – Independent" – which is even more ridiculous.) Bearing all this in mind, it is worth critiquing the book from two perspectives: first, as a memoir and, second, as the political manifesto reviewers have turned it into. In my opinion, it does not come out as strongly as you might think, from either angle.

On the surface, Hillbilly Elegy is a serviceable memoir. It is well-structured; it is not mired in strict chronology but is still organized enough to trace Vance's personal growth. It is a decent appraisal of the sort of working poor culture Vance came from, and the fact that Vance did come from this sort of background not only lends him authenticity but also encourages you to give him the benefit of the doubt: 'OK, this was his life, so let's reserve judgement until we've heard it.'

But appraising it as a memoir, one cannot help but think it is rather bloodless. Vance freely admits on the first page that his life story is nothing remarkable, but that's not entirely true. His youth and background are of a sort one doesn't hear much about in popular culture, and there are some anecdotes that are interesting. It's not a dull life (his Mom could have been a character ripped from a Bukowski story) and it is an ascendant one. But think about it: aside from 'Mamaw', do any of the other people in his story come to life on the page? Not only that, does a unique or distinctive voice come through from our author in the prose? It doesn't, in my opinion, and I didn't really see Vance's world or personality manifest in front of me. He skirts over certain things: throwaway allusions to an interest in young-earth creationism as a kid and to an almost fanatical and self-destructive work ethic at university that are objectively interesting but quickly moved on from. He joined the Marine Corps and went to Iraq: don't ask me more than that, because Vance barely says more than that on the topic. He credits his wife with 'saving' him but there's nothing on how they fell in love or what role she plays: no depth to their relationship on the page. Most importantly, there are frequent offhand references to an anger and a short fuse both as a child (he was so unruly he almost caused one teacher to quit (pg. 95)) and as an adult (road rage, for example, or screaming at his wife) that are merely chronicled rather than explored: they are told in such a mild-mannered prose one almost immediately moves on with him before stopping and thinking: wait, what? There are many blanks in his life that are not filled in: my dissatisfaction comes mainly with the political agenda (which I shall come onto presently) but these gaps in the record contribute to that disappointment too.

Vance intersperses his memoir with social commentary (including some clunky references to psychological theories and citations of social studies and statistics) and, I am pleased to report, some of them are worth reading. For all my criticism of the book (I've given it two stars rather than three more because of the absolutist hype in the media rather than its objective quality), Vance does make some good points about the self-destructive nature of poor communities, of the scorn shown towards the aspirational members of said communities, about the plague of self-doubt and the inferiority complex, about American classism – which is Hillbilly Elegy's most important contribution to the national debate – and about how it is networking rather than actual ability that is most important in finding a good job. The working class, he argues, are ignorant of how to get ahead, and he is right.

However, there is a rather unedifying undercurrent through all of Vance's proclamations about class and culture. I was wondering throughout, given how it identifies weaknesses in liberal gospel like the welfare state, why the book has become a liberal darling: why it was so lionized by the same 'liberal' elites and progressives who are usually so contemptuous of the 'deplorables' in the 'flyover states'. The answer comes towards the end as Vance shows his hand (though in retrospect it is evident throughout): whilst it is ostensibly fair and nuanced and agreeable, the essential message of Hillbilly Elegy is that the poor just aren't working hard enough.

Perhaps it's not a surprise that a man who was so desperate to leave his culture behind (though understandably) and who became a venture capitalist in the big city and who worries about whether his betters will laugh at him for mispronouncing sauvignon blanc (pg. 211) would have such a low opinion of what he left behind. Nor is it surprising that someone with a self-admitted ferocious and self-destructive work ethic and intermittent allegiance to Christianity would come to see the working class as sinners. His solutions, such as they are, are to purge your sins: see the light, the lights of the big city. Work harder, harder, harder. It is a common trait of those who have become successful to put their own success down to hard work. It does not do for one's ego to admit that other factors came into play (not least that old maligned factor, luck), even if they were not the deciding factor: no, I got here through my own hard work and anyone who didn't make it hasn't worked hard enough.

I don't mean to be too hard on Vance. He does not seem particularly egotistical. There is some truth in the hard-work argument; it's certainly a factor. But to claim that the poor are lazy and feckless is perhaps putting the egg before the chicken. I would suggest that in many cases the reason they are so pessimistic and seemingly lazy is because their energy is sapped by their economic situation. Vance forgets that getting a degree and learning discipline only goes so far in a hollowed-out graduate job market that leaves you either ill-qualified or over-qualified for some jobs, the only option a succession of insecure, low-paying jobs in menial work, or unpaid internships despite spiralling debts and consumer costs and house prices. He forgets that people and systems prey on such hard-working lower-class aspirants, exploiting an overflowing pool of desperate graduates and abusing 'flexible' working and zero-hour contracts. He forgets a ballooning housing market and a rent culture that puts people into debt they can't afford. He even forgets the War on Drugs that criminalizes users: rather, he says, drug problems "were not created by governments or corporations or anyone else. We created them, and only we can fix them" (pg. 256). I'm all for solving your own problems, but is everything down to you?

Vance does indeed seem to care and I don't want to tear into him too heartily; rather, my problem is with those who have lionized the book, who have put it on a pedestal and made it into a gospel of truth about the working classes rather than a book raising questions and looking for answers. No wonder it is a liberal darling – how convenient that the problems with the poor are not down to economic policy or immigration policy or welfare policy, but that the flaws are in themselves! It goes back to what I mentioned at the start of this review: how horrid and ghastly recent political events were, what aberrations they were! An insight into Trump and Brexit? No. It's not even a sufficient accounting of why certain disenfranchised sub-sections – hillbillies, coal miners, those in flyover states, etc. – would vote Trump. (To say nothing of how different in character Brexit Britain is to the USA.) Liberals who think Hillbilly Elegy has an inside track are arrogantly missing one crucial point: progressivism is not the be-all and end-all of political discourse. Your worldview is not an inevitability. People see your tenets – like globalism, multiculturalism, open borders and the welfare state – have failed so they reach for different ideas (Trumpism, protectionism, an emphasis on assimilation of migrants) that may work. People see Democrats fail so they vote Republican – it's not working, so let's try something else. People see the EU racket failing and helping only the racketeers and the human traffickers, so they authorize the return of sovereignty to their national parliament – it's not working, so let's try something else. You look at Trump and Brexit as aberrations from the norm, whereas they are merely alternative approaches at solving political problems. What you see as an aberration from the Forward March of Progress, your Great Leap Forward, is just the pendulum swinging back after years of liberal dominance and progressivism being found wanting at the things that voters really care about: security, community, dignity.

Vance is correct: hard work and dedication increases the odds of success, but in many cases it is still literally you against the world, against a system that is at best uncaring and at worst gamed towards exploitation of the likes of you ("we already have enough people at the top, thank you, so stay in your box"). Not everyone is fanatical about beating those odds, and Vance's imploration that the solution for the struggling working classes is to struggle even harder has something of the social Darwinist about it, and forgets that not everyone has a fanatical reserve of ambition to draw on. Nor should they: some people just want to provide for a modest family and some semblance of security; to follow Vance's path of extreme discipline and frenzied exertion is as unappealing to them as that of the dependent, destitute welfare addict.

Vance sometimes makes the right points but he reaches the wrong conclusions. He even mentions an anecdote on page 203 about how his Yale classmates had probably never had to clear up someone else's mess. Where, I ask Mr. Vance, was their hard work, their discipline? They've never had to show it. The working class don't want to be told to fight harder, work harder, be more disciplined: they already have these traits to some extent, if not necessarily to Vance's exacting standard. What they want is a fair deal: that those prepared to work get security and integrity – not necessarily wealth – regardless of whether they're from Kentucky or the affluent coast. And for those who carouse through life and have never cleaned up someone else's mess (or even their own), and who possess neither humility or discipline, to be losers in life, whether they're white trash in Kentucky or over-indulged brats from New York who land an internship at the company owned by the man Daddy plays golf with. The problem isn't that the working class aren't fighting; it's that they're exhausted by the fighting. They've been doing it all their lives, and what's more they don't know how many more rounds until the bell. Most people just want to get by; surely that should be easier than it currently is? A job, a house, an opportunity at starting a family: basic elements of a life with dignity. What sickness is in our society that we make that so hard to come by? show less

Hillbilly Elegy - Vance
4 stars

I’m glad I didn’t read this book during the election cycle when it was getting so much attention. I think that would have distracted me from the original intent of the book. Reading it now allowed me to appreciate this book for what it is, an extremely well written memoir. It’s also reasonably well researched social commentary. Vance’s prose is direct and uncomplicated. He managed to be interesting and entertaining while tying his personal history to the complex problems of the larger community. I read very few memoirs, but this one held my attention from beginning to end.

I have a sense that Vance has some survivor guilt. He wants to know why he managed to rise above his dysfunctional background show more when so many others do not. He doesn’t have any definitive answers, but he knows some of the important things that worked for him. It can’t be easy to expose so many intimate and painful memories, even when they result in a best selling book. Vance cites a some research studies and a few books devoted to the social and psychological issues that his own story highlights. However, research is dry in the telling. It’s the personal stories that make hard line statistics a reality. show less

J.D. grew up in a family of self-described hillbillies. His grandparents married as teenagers, moved from their small town in Kentucky to Middletown, Ohio, and his mom was a drug addict who went through a string of relationships while he and his sister Lindsay grew up, surrounded by a dysfunctional but loving family.

How well can any of us really know another person without having lived their experiences? I think that's my biggest takeaway from the book. J.D. spends quite a bit of time laying the groundwork for his life by telling you about his grandparents, his mother's brothers (the Blanton men), and the violence that was just part of the family stories when someone's honor was under attack. His Papaw drank and he and Mamaw had violent show more fights, so each of their children had their own challenges in creating loving relationships. We see the way J.D. saw conflict resolution - yell and throw things, or run away - and the way it impacted him. He has a talent for telling stories and drawing out the contradictions we tell ourselves. While acknowledging the difficulties of his upbringing, he attempts to explain what made him into who he is today and how he was able to have upward mobility, however uneasy, in his own life.

I've seen some people either laud this as explaining the white lower class's votes for Trump or denounce it as yet another slur against Appalachia. I think either is a bit unfair and not really addressing what the book is about. This is, at its heart, just one man's story about his family. He makes some sweeping "our" and "us" statements talking about Appalachian culture or mentality but I think his family is just one example of a group that of course is more diverse than just the three generations of family he concentrates on. And I think he has interesting things to say that could be explored more fully in research or other reading - for example, he has one line in which he explains that there was a vote against Section 8 housing in a neighborhood and his argument wasn't that there shouldn't be Section 8 housing but that it should be spread out so that there wouldn't just be one neighborhood where all the poorer people hung out together and never got to see anything but poverty around them. He makes a pretty good personal argument for why it was impossible to imagine life any other way when all the families surrounding you were like you - a case study rather than a more general statement that would have to be backed up by statistics.

A fascinating story of one man's journey, and one I'd be willing to return to again. show less

I'd like to say I came into this book with an open mind, but that'd be a complete lie. When I heard that it helps understand Trump voters, I immediately thought of the Homer Simpson line, "Just because I don't care doesn't mean I don't understand."

The book is well written and engaging, but ultimately it's just about how a boy loved his grandma with some awkward politics crammed along the sides. Throughout the book, he notes that his people don't like being confronted with hard truths, yet still shies away from the elephant in the corner - racism. Obama is viewed as "suspicious" and unrelatable, since he went to an ivy league school, but then they flock to trump, who is also an ivy league grad. His "I went to college and look at all show more these diverse friends I have!" claims are painfully awkward.

Additionally, his main point of the book comes when he's in training at the Marines, where his drill sergeant pushes him to challenge his limits. It is a good story with a strong message that's a highlight of the book. However, he wants to teach people that their choices do matter - i don't see how this is news to anyone. The choices of the white working class have had a dramatic effect on society, from closing access to abortion clinics, to blocking gun control, to fighting to allow bakeries to discriminate against gays. They could've fought for their jobs, healthcare, Infrastructure, etc but didn't prioritize it - just because you wasted your political capital doesn't mean you don't have it.

I could go on ranting way more, from his defense of payday loans to his cynicism about public policy (while crediting a government institution for saving his life). Ultimately, it is a neatly packaged story to mollify the sane conservatives who are trying to justify Trump while also allowing liberals to feel like they are enlightened because they read a bit about flyover country. show less

Vance's Hillbilly Elegy has been on The New York Times’ bestseller list for several years. The author, JD Vance, grew up with a drug-addicted mom involved with a large number of men, in a world of broken marriages, teen pregnancies, alcoholism, violence, mistrust, anger, and fatalism. He owes his life and survival to loving grandparents who taught him to value hard work and education. After he graduated high school, he went into the Marine Corps, then to Ohio State, to Yale for his law degree, and on to Silicon Valley before moving back to Columbus, Ohio, where he wrote this memoir at age 31.

This has been on my TBR since its publication, but I chose not to read it until some of the political fervor died down. Vance wrote his memoir show more before the 2016 election and it's been overhyped as some sort of explanation of why the Rust Belt states voted for Trump. I wanted to read this memoir for its analysis on poverty. The author talks about the origins of his maternal family and its matriarchy. He talks about the psychological struggles of having a mother who verbally abuses him and even threatens to kill him and how his father just abandoned him. His grandparents were his stabilizing figures and they weren't all that stable either.

I thought Vance did a great job of giving us a genuine feel for his story. It was inspiring and didn't seem to be embellished or altered to protect the feelings of anyone in his family. It was an honest portrayal of one man's life from poverty to Yale Law School graduate and all that comes with that success, which makes him credible to comment on this country's policies and social programs that are supposed to assist those most in need. None of the author's observations, conclusions, or recommendations are over the top. His final assessment of his own life, and the opinions he has on what this country can do to improve, are all reasonable and well based. His conclusions regarding what Government can fix, and what it cannot, might be hard for some to accept, but unless you have the real life experience of making it out of poverty, I would think you would give this book a read to see why poverty is not all about politics; it is a consequence of culture, and the only real way to change culture is from within the home. The path to the American dream is not the same for all. I’m not saying Vance offers great solutions for the problems with poverty in our country, but he does offer simple solutions, ones involving self-examination and our role in society. The book is poignant and powerfully written.

WTR - 845 show less