JD Vance’s Memoir Offers Clues, Despite Not Reflecting Current Politics

When JD Vance accepted the vice-presidential nomination for the Republican Party, one couldn’t help but notice his striking resemblance to Donald Trump’s sons. It’s an interesting observation, especially considering Donald Jr.’s active support for Vance. Trump’s pick of Vance feels like a continuation of dynastic politics—a trend seen with the Kennedys, Bushes, and Clintons.

Conversations around Trump’s choice usually focus on Vance’s ties to conservative figures in Silicon Valley and media personalities like Tucker Carlson. But from Trump’s perspective, politics often feels like an extension of family legacy, and Vance has positioned himself effectively as a sort of de facto son.

Vance first gained widespread attention—and eventually a Senate seat from Ohio—thanks to his 2016 book, Hillbilly Elegy. The impact of books on political careers isn’t new in the U.S.; Barack Obama’s Dreams From My Father and John F. Kennedy’s Profiles in Courage played similar roles. Yet, none matched the immediate success of Vance’s work, which became a bestseller and inspired a movie.

Vance’s upbringing was complex. His mother struggled with addiction, changing partners frequently, and his grandmother became his most stable maternal figure. However, his grandparents’ marriage was fraught with violence. Despite these tumultuous beginnings, Vance managed to scrape through high school, enlist in the Marines, and eventually attend Ohio State University.

For older generations, Hillbilly Elegy might echo the themes of the 1960s television series, The Beverley Hillbillies, illuminating the enduring fascination with American lives marred by generational poverty and violence.

Similar to Obama’s memoir, Vance’s book tells the story of a man from outside the traditional WASP (White Anglo-Saxon Protestant) establishment striving for greatness. Like Obama, Vance attended an Ivy League law school—Yale—instead of Harvard, where he met his future wife, just as the Clintons did.

During his time in the Marines, Vance reports having learned “willfulness” as opposed to the “helplessness” he felt at home. While Obama became a community organizer, Vance turned to venture capitalism, gaining support from conservative mogul Peter Thiel. Trump’s interest in Vance could be partly due to his ability to attract funding from affluent donors who might dislike Trump’s rhetoric but appreciate his tax policies favoring the wealthy.

Though Obama is considered the superior stylist, Vance is a vivid writer. His accounts of a tumultuous childhood, marred by his mother’s addiction and his grandparents’ rocky relationship, paints a harrowing yet remarkable picture. Vance often notes similarities between the rural poor whites and African-Americans, without the racist language often associated with Trump’s rhetoric. Despite his staunch social conservatism, his book lacks the hateful homophobia found in the words of many Trumpian figures.

Vance candidly discusses his teenage musings on sexuality, recalling his grandmother’s acceptance with humor and a touch of softness—a contrast to the harshness of Trump’s evangelical supporters. He learned little about traditional masculinity other than enduring verbal altercations and drinking beer.

With roots in Middletown, Ohio, and a Scots-Irish ancestry tied to small-town Kentucky, Vance frames his great-grandmother’s home in Jackson, Kentucky, as his true “home.” His memoir emphasizes long-standing disadvantages in the Appalachian region, culturally diverse yet with stark poverty.

Traditionally a Democratic stronghold, Appalachia has swung significantly towards the Republicans, typified by West Virginia’s shift from supporting Bill Clinton to overwhelmingly voting for Trump.

Vance’s Hillbilly Elegy captures the intergenerational struggles and self-reliance ethos, resonating with both conservatives and liberals despite criticism of his lack of focus on structural disadvantages. Critics like Gabriel Winant, who knew Vance during his time at Yale, argue that Vance’s vision propagates a class war between ordinary white citizens and “elites” in universities and the media.

This rhetoric, though Trumpian, is absent in Hillbilly Elegy, which draws comparisons to Ronald Reagan’s attacks on “welfare queens” but without the racial undertones. The book provoked much discussion, including an anthology, Appalachian Reckoning, challenging Vance’s generalized portrayals of the region.

Yet, Vance’s narrative has helped explain why many traditional Democrats shifted to Trump, a pattern that was evident in the electoral shifts seen between the 2016 and 2020 elections. His personal experiences of tax deductions and observing welfare use further distanced him from the Democratic ideals championed by his grandmother’s generation.

If one seeks a more nuanced exploration of how poorer Americans could rally behind a wealthy candidate like Trump, Arlie Hochschild’s Strangers in Their Own Land, which studies Trump’s appeal in Louisiana, offers profound insights.

Since the 2016 election, Vance’s political views have dramatically altered. Once critical of Trump, he’s adopted more conservative stances, partially inspired by his conversion to Catholicism and a shift towards anti-abortion and isolationist policies. These positions align him with a segment of the conservative base while making him a controversial figure in broader political conversations.

The role of vice president may traditionally hold little power, but for Vance, it represents anticipation of future leadership, especially considering Trump’s advancing age and the potential for his children to assume significant roles in a prospective Vance administration.

Source: The Conversation