Hillbilly Elegy

of the world to have a chance. I don’t
know what the answer is, precisely, but I
know it starts when we stop blaming
Obama or Bush or faceless companies
and ask ourselves what we can do to
make things better.
I wanted to ask Brian whether, like
me, he had bad dreams. For nearly two
decades, I suffered from a terrible
recurring nightmare. The first time it
came to me, I was seven, fast asleep in
my great Mamaw Blanton’s bed. In the
dream, I’m trapped in large conference
room in a large tree house—as if the
Keebler elves had just finished a
massive picnic and their tree house were
still adorned with dozens of tables and