on June 28th 2016
Genres: Nonfiction, Personal Memoirs
Published by Harper
Vance’s grandparents were “dirt poor and in love.” They got married and moved north from Kentucky to Ohio in the hopes of escaping the dreadful poverty around them. Their grandchild (the author) graduated from Yale Law School, a conventional marker of their success in achieving upward mobility for their family. But Vance cautions that is only the short version.
At times funny, disturbing, and deeply moving, this is a family history that is also a troubling meditation on the loss of the American dream for a large portion of this country.
Wow. I read this book in one sitting. I spent the whole time nodding my head. I got out of bed to start writing this to make of the thoughts flying around my brain. Before reading the book I had heard that it was controversial. After reading it I have no idea why.
This is the story of most of the people I know.
I’ve often summed up my husband and I like this:
- My husband is what happens when you educate a hillbilly.
- I’m what happens when two educated hillbillies breed.
In my life I’ve lived in Western Pennsylvania, East Tennessee, Central Ohio, and Northeast Ohio. I don’t wander far from Appalachia. Most white people I know have roots somewhere deeper in Appalachia. I had never considered that the reason for this was a migration north of people from coal mining country to the industrial centers farther north in the 40s and 50s even though that fits part of my family history.
“It was not simply that the Appalachian migrants, as rural strangers ‘out of place’ in the city, were upsetting to Midwestern, urban whites. Rather, these migrants disrupted a broad set of assumptions held by northern whites about how white people appeared, spoke, and behaved…the disturbing aspect of hillbillies was their racialness. Ostensibly, there were of the same racial order (whites) as those who dominated economic, political, and social power in local and national arenas. But hillbillies shared many regional characteristics with the southern blacks arriving in Detroit.”
One of the author’s central points is that one of the major problems facing people in these areas is a lack of imagination. I may be an overly educated person but all my coworkers are not. Most are high school graduates who never imagined going on to do any college or ever leaving their hometowns. If no one you know ever leaves, how can someone even imagine that it is an option? There needs to be people to model what healthy relationships look like or what steps you take to go to college in order for someone to aspire to that. The author talks a lot about the very small worldview people have. I keep threatening to buy a world map and teach geography lessons to my coworkers between appointments at work because not only can they not identify some cities as belonging in certain states, they can’t identify certain names as belonging to real states. They’ve never been there so why would they care? They just shrug.
“It’s not like parents and teachers never mention hard work. Nor do they walk around loudly proclaiming that they expect their children to turn out poorly. These attitudes lurk below the surface, less in what people say than in how they act. One of our neighbors was a lifetime welfare recipient, but in between asking my grandmother to borrow her car or offering to trade food stamps for cash at a premium, she’d blather on about the importance of industriousness. ‘So many people abuse the system, it’s impossible for the hardworking people to get the help they need,’ she’d say. This was the construct she’d built in her head: Most of the beneficiaries of the system were extravagant moochers, but she–despite never having worked a day in her life–was an obvious exception.”
Oh yes. I love that one. I know people who have used every government program out there who expound at length about immigrants coming here and getting benefits that “hard working” Americans don’t get. I also found the discussion in the book about how people overestimate how many hours they work because they think they are more industrious than they are fascinating. If they are working so hard (in their minds) and aren’t getting ahead, obviously someone is out to get them. I think this is a big part of the reason why I hate the terms ‘working class’ and ‘working man’. It is like the rest of us magically make a living by waving our hands and the money rains down from on high.
The author’s story is rough. His mother was a drug addict with a never ending stream of boyfriends. He found stability in his Memaw. That wasn’t a given because she was an incredibly unstable person who didn’t model healthy living to her daughter. She got herself together in her later years and was able to help her grandson.
I understood his story completely. Everything that happens to him has happened to someone I know. It hasn’t all happened to the same person but there was nothing in his story that I haven’t heard at least once from someone in casual conversation. I kept pointing out parallels to my husband’s life to him. There is a passage at the end where he talks about his non-hillbilly wife being shocked that he had several bank accounts spread out in different banks. He attributes that to a childhood habit of spreading out his money in several hiding places so no one in his house could steal it all at once. I just handed the book over to the husband at that point. One of the ‘in case of death’ paperwork things I keep meaning to do is to get him to write down all the banks he has accounts in. I’m not talking multiple accounts in a few local banks. I’m talking about small accounts in multiple states that he can’t bring himself to close.
Some of the major criticisms of this book is the idea that the author hates poor people. They accuse him of saying that he worked hard and got out so everyone should be able to pull themselves up by their bootstraps and do it too. I feel like this a lot too. I look at people and think, “You have all the opportunities in the world available to you. You have people who are begging to help you and you just don’t care.” Maybe that isn’t the case in other poor communities but it is true here. Kids graduate having never given a thought to what they want to do with their lives. It isn’t because no one ever asked. It is just pessimism and lethargy. I don’t know how else to explain it. They are smart and capable of doing more than scraping to survive in dead end jobs but it never seems to occur to them that there is more possible in life.
You see this dynamic in the author’s life. He acknowledges that he had good schools with caring teachers who couldn’t help him learn because he was too preoccupied with the chaos of his home life. His high school was poorly rated but he considered that to be at least partially due to a lack of student caring. He talks about good teachers there too. He talks about the programs that are available to help kids go to school but the pessimism of people may make them assume that there is no help available so they don’t look for them. The insularity of the group means that no one talks about family problems (until they are over) so people aren’t getting help. People are suspicious of outsiders so they don’t believe anything an outsider tells them. Change and hope need to come from inside the community.
It seems like a lot of people wanted this book to explain Trump voters to them. It has been touted as the book to read to understand “those people.” They are criticizing it for not explaining them. It doesn’t try to. This is his story. It doesn’t have a political bent to it. It was written before the current election. People need to stop projecting what they want this book to be and see it for what it is.