JD Vance’s memoir, Hillbilly Elegy, opens with a striking admission: “I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve accomplished nothing great in my life, certainly nothing that would justify a complete stranger paying money to read about it.” This self-deprecating tone contrasts sharply with the brash persona many now associate with the Republican Vice Presidential candidate, known for inflammatory remarks about “childless cat ladies,” blatant appeals to populist nativism, and fear-mongering rhetoric regarding Haitian immigrants.

When I read Hillbilly Elegy, I was taken aback by Vance’s humor and humility—qualities that are often overshadowed by his current political stance. In his memoir, he shares the painful details of his childhood in an abusive home, his military service, and his journey as one of the few students from a rural background at Yale Law School. While I disagreed with some of his views—particularly his dismissal of racism as a factor in the political shift among white rural voters—the man I encountered in the book seemed intelligent, introspective, and empathetic. His thoughtful examination of his upbringing, including its negative effects on him and those he loves, left a strong impression. In a recent New York Times op-ed, novelist John McWhorter praised Vance’s memoir as a sincere effort to explore societal issues without succumbing to partisanship. Vance’s depiction of his politically diverse friendships at Yale, characterized by civil discourse with both liberal and conservative peers, further illustrates this point.

However, Vance’s transformation into a political figure seeking the Vice Presidency starkly contrasts with the thoughtful individual presented in his memoir. In recent public appearances, he has adopted a more aggressive stance, making sweeping generalizations and using inflammatory language. When confronted about his racially charged rhetoric during an interview with CNN’s Dana Bash, he defiantly stated, “If I have to create stories so that the American media actually pays attention to the suffering of the American people, then that’s what I’m going to do, Dana!” This shift from the contemplative voice in Hillbilly Elegy to a confrontational and combative persona raises questions about his motivations.

While many point to the political and financial incentives driving this change, I am particularly intrigued by the psychological factors at play. When Hillbilly Elegy was released, Vance carved out a niche as a consultant for Democrats, helping them understand the appeal of Trump among white rural voters. Initially an outspoken critic of Trump, he occupied a role similar to Liz Cheney’s today—a conservative voice valued by Democrats for its anti-Trump stance, yet lacking real power within the broader conservative agenda on social issues, spending, and more. The condescension he faced from Democrats, combined with his evolving political identity, likely created a sense of frustration and alienation.

Hints of this internal conflict are evident in Hillbilly Elegy, where Vance recounts his adaptability and his rejection of liberal elitism. As a child, he adjusted his beliefs to fit in, even embracing Creationism to align with his deeply religious relatives. At Yale, he felt out of place, caught between the elite world and his rural roots. By the conclusion of the memoir, he acknowledges his lack of passion for law and his ongoing search for purpose. In this context, Trump’s populist rhetoric and rejection of the political establishment may resonate with Vance in a way that it does not for other conservatives.

Ultimately, finishing Vance’s memoir left me with a sense of profound sadness. While he may offer numerous justifications for his current political stance, these do not absolve him of his actions—targeting immigrants or stoking political violence to advance his career. According to FiveThirtyEight’s latest poll, Vance’s negative approval rating of 11 percent reflects the public’s discontent with his choices. What makes him particularly unappealing to many Americans is not merely a departure from his principles but a betrayal of his own humanity and compassion.