What You Are Getting Wrong About Appalachia: Book Review and Hillbilly Elegy Comparison

Publisher’s Summary

In 2016, headlines declared Appalachia ground zero for America’s “forgotten tribe” of white working class voters. Journalists flocked to the region to extract sympathetic profiles of families devastated by poverty, abandoned by establishment politics, and eager to consume cheap campaign promises. What You Are Getting Wrong About Appalachia is a frank assessment of America’s recent fascination with the people and problems of the region. The book analyzes trends in contemporary writing on Appalachia, presents a brief history of Appalachia with an eye toward unpacking Appalachian stereotypes, and provides examples of writing, art, and policy created by Appalachians as opposed to for Appalachians. The book offers a must-needed insider’s perspective on the region.

The Review

Elizabeth Catte is an East Tennessee native, with a Ph.D. in public history, which she received from Middle Tennessee State University, and co-owns a historical consulting company. Not only is she professionally qualified to write about the state of the Appalachian region today in relation to the history that fed our current issues, but she is a native and is intimate with the struggles of the residents in the poor, coal region of the Appalachians.

This book was short, a quick read, and that is really my only criticism and the reason this book is 4 stars instead of 5. I would have loved a longer book so she could go into greater detail on some of the topics she discusses. However, I understand the need to publish her book quickly on the tail of Hillbilly Elegy so that she could capitalize on its success and the conversation it ignited. It is incredibly difficult to get the mainstream media and average American to care about subjects such as this or be receptive to correcting inaccurate and painful stereotypes that Vance invoked in his disturbingly bestselling memoir.

As a historian and history consultant, Catte knows her history of the region and is a credible source for relaying that information to her readers. She takes the responsibility, where Vance negligently fell short, of setting the stage of Appalachia as it was developed through the years, the industries that took from the region, the evolution of local workers’ rights and struggles through this time, and most importantly, the assertion that Appalachia (as an immense region) is not wholly Scots-Irish or white.

She accurately describes the diversity of the region, its alignment with modern issues, and shuts down the notion of Other that so many paint Appalachians, that they genetically differ from the rest of the nation. We don’t. To paint us that way, Catte explains, is to promote eugenics (“the study of or belief in the possibility of improving the qualities of the human species or a human population, especially by such means as discouraging reproduction by persons having genetic defects or presumed to have inheritable undesirable traits (negative eugenics) or encouraging reproduction by persons presumed to have inheritable desirable traits (positive eugenics).”-From Dictionary.com). The idea of preventing the breeding of Appalachians through sterilization was promoted by prominent spokespeople from the area and beyond during the 1960s-70s. Eugenics was a favored idea of Nazis, FYI.

4/5 Stars

Hillbilly Elegy Versus What You Are Getting Wrong About Appalachia

Catte’s book is obviously a direct and scathing rebuttal to J. D. Vance’s Hillybilly Elegy: A Memoir of a Family and Culture in Crisis (my review of his book is linked). That is critical in understanding her position while writing this book. I felt similarly enraged and misrepresented after reading Vance’s “memoir” and felt somebody local to the region needed to step up and refute his claims. A better person could not have stepped up to the plate. I will thank God every day for women like Elizabeth Catte and her little (enormously important) book.

The historical perspective she frames in this book is so important to the discussion of Appalachia, coal mining, employment in the areas coal mining has left economically destroyed and/or stagnant, and the greater discussion of white insecurity in America at the moment. So often you hear the cliched phrase, “Those who don’t learn history are doomed to repeat it.” Nowhere is that phrase more chilling and pertinent than this book where Catte exposes the similarities in moments in our local history that do seem to repeat themselves and will continue to do so while these images and beliefs about Appalachians exist.

Catte explores the role of activism in Appalachia, the tactics corporations and politicians used to undermine those activists and their message. She is also honest about race in the region, the history of racism white Appalachians participated in, where Vance tried to absolve us of any blame which is grossly historically inaccurate. She relates several documented instances which inform her position on this. But Catte does absolve the region of its accused blinding whiteness. People of color do occupy Appalachia, share the history of the region, and the struggles of their profession in the coal mines, on the railroad, etc. Diversity exists here where outsiders insist it does not and they subsequently try to erase the ownership of the region of people of color, the lives they’ve built, and the inroads for the progress they’ve made.

Vance excludes people of color from his memoir when discussing Appalachians and his beloved “hillbillies.” He repeatedly refers to the Scots-Irish ancestry of the region and how Appalachians have retained that genetic heritage more than any other community in the nation. Catte astutely accuses him of racist generalizations by erasing people of color from the region and culture, not to mention the settlement of French, German, English, Swedish, Scandinavian, Dutch, etc., and his tendency to favor the eugenics theory, that the shortcomings of Appalchians are a result of shared, flawed genetics. His book, when viewed through this lens, should scare the shit out of us. Because we are not genetically different from the rest of the nation though the notion is so widely shared by outsiders. Because sterilization has been considered to limit our population. Because corporate interest is such a powerful force with our government at all levels.

Catte goes further in her accusations against Vance’s theories on the area by charting his preference for sources favored by white supremacist and nationalist individuals. The eugenics theory and practice, “brain drain,” the proud Scots-Irish genealogy should all be viewed as red flags of his priorities, especially as there is no doubt he will run for a political office in the next five years.

K.O.!

Overall, her authority shines through and makes Vance’s novel and theories pale in comparison. His lack of research, lack of insight into the sociopolitical structure of the Eastern Kentucky area he references repeatedly, and insistence on their (consequently his) genetic purity really expose him for what he is, a politically ambitious, pseudo-intellectual with white supremacist tendencies. Even more stark after reading Catte’s response is the insincerity of Vance’s assertions that writing his memoir did not mean he intended to be a spokesperson for the poor, white working class. Yet he continues to tour and speak on the topic, he published a book on the subject knowing very, very little of the truth behind the struggles in the region. It is glaringly obvious when read in conjunction with Catte’s rebuttal that he intended to capitalize on national insecurities using Appalachians to justify white insecurity and nationalist trends.

In short, read What You Are Getting Wrong About Appalachia, not Hillbilly Elegy.

Appalachian Gods

This week, instead of doing a #flashfictionfriday post I felt more slanted towards posting a nonfiction essay I have been working on for some time. Enjoy and hopefully next week I will get back to the fiction stuff. 😉

 

I feel compelled to write about these mountains like there is a voice inside of me that isn’t my voice but wants to be heard. I am the mouthpiece or the transcriber as it is. It is my heritage, the mystique of Appalachia, and the strange mark it leaves on all who are born here that yearns to be written. A little stain on the history of this country, this world. Appalachia is beautiful, fierce, and lonely.

When the sun rises over the Appalachian foothills, there is a strange frenzy of activity. I have heard that the safest time to be in the woods is at night because, like people, animals seek cover in the dark and prefer daytime for hunting. But I think it is more than just an evolutionary preference. The darkness of an Appalachian night is heavy like there is more in the air than dew. It is heavy like the breath of a million souls exhaling at the same time. There are ghosts in the Appalachian Mountains. And if ever there was a time they revealed themselves it was during those black nights.

People rarely write about cities and suburbs with the same romantic notions as they do about nature. Nature is an enigma, an evolving mystery, consistently surprising and confounding those who observe it. These mountains are not like cul-de-sacs. Men own their cities, they know every inch, every culvert, all mapped and laid out like a science. No one owns the Appalachian Mountains. But they hold every soul born here. They are unconquerable. Even scarred and pitted from years of strip mining and clear-cutting, there is a refusal to surrender to the appetites of men. They still loom larger and make me feel more than anything man has built himself.

For the people born there, the mountains mean protection. As a child, I played throughout its valleys, swam in the streams that bubbled from its peaks, and explored the forests that populated the hillsides. I never felt alone. There are eyes everywhere in the mountains, whispers with inhuman voices, a language not in the conventional tongue of man. It is ancient. We grew up in the shadows of gods.

Spirituality was in the very water we drank. Everyone born in southeastern Kentucky knew of the power of the laying on of hands, speaking in tongues, serpent handling, whether they believed this to be a God-given talent or the overactive imaginings of religious radicals. My grandmother claimed to have the power to drive demons from people who were possessed. I witnessed one such attempt when I was eight years old. Our neighbor had been tied to a day bed with a leather belt around his hands, holding him to the trembling bars.

There was no moon that night, no stars, low clouds made the entire valley claustrophobic and damp. He hissed at my grandmother as she came through the door, a worn Bible in both hands held out before her like a shield of faith. He spoke, but he didn’t, not in words I could understand, a faint echo in his tone. It was otherworldly, eerie. I am not sure I believe in the existence of demons, at least ones that exist on the physical plane with humans, but what I was witness to that night, I will never forget. Belief is very strongly regarded. My neighbor believed he was possessed that night. My grandmother thought she could exorcise his demons. When she left, he lay limp, sweaty, and regular. Apparently, he thought she could exorcise his demons too.

If there are demons in the world, maybe they are more likely to follow those who believe. Guilt, faith, and God lay heavy on the hearts of Appalachian men and women. They can claim atheism but religion haunts their every action, they feel the weight of God when lifting a beer bottle, the chorus of angels in explicit, secular music. It is harder not to believe, to push beyond the wall of guilt and act against traditionalism. Akin to “Catholic guilt” the people of Appalachia, more often Baptists and Pentecostals (or some form of either), carry their religion like a family heirloom, their inheritance. They did not buy it or build it, but it has been imbued with too many memories to throw away.