The Enemy Within, Glenn Loury, and The Confessions of A Black Conservative.

I’m not really a memoir reader, though I tend to like writing that’s self aware, recognizing that we’re playing a game, assessing credibility, and weighing sins against accomplishments.

I’m not sure what I expected when I picked up the new book that Glenn Loury put out. I’d been following the Black Guys at Bloggingheads since 2020, before they moved over to their own platform. I liked the contrarian takes, and as someone close to the intellectual dark web, and involved in libertarianism, I appreciated that they opened space for me to say my thoughts. Going to a state university, the stifling climate was more fair-weathered than an elite institution, but it still helped being able to point to others saying the same things I did.

When reading this book, I felt a lot of anxiety and anguish, in part because I fundamentally relate to Glenn in ways that should make me sympathetic to him. Like him, I grew up in a slightly chaotic home where I had to figure out a lot on my own. Like Glenn, I did a lot of reflection on who I wanted to be, and who I was. Like Glenn, I sometimes feel as if there’s an enemy within me, all too eager to self-sabotage me. I’ve been obsessed with economics since I was a child, and I’ve always found school work overwhelmingly easy.

Since I could see all these similarities between me and him, having seen him as a fellow traveler over the past few years, I can’t help but to feel hoodwinked in my belief of his moral, economic, and political je-ne-sais-quoi. The areas that most frustrated me, and perhaps this is because of my own lacking father figure, are how Glenn treats his children and romantic partners as an after-thought in his desire to relieve his boredom. Failing to provide for his children, or play an active role in their upbringing strikes me as signs of a weak moral character. Cheating with a smorgasbord of women on a tolerant, patient, and loving wife, as it’s strongly implied that it’s continued while she was dying of cancer leads me to think that maybe his mentors were wrong in believing in him.

Glenn’s life in a lot of ways is a cautionary tale. Glenn’s talents are a ‘once-in-a-decade’ occurrence, he’s recognized by the institutions around him, and while he’s created some interesting work, Glenn’s lack of focus leaves his work mostly non-consequential. Although he’s written several interesting books on race and incarceration, on social mobility, and on dynamic intergenerational equity (also a casual research interest of mine), it’s unlikely that this work will transformative, and it’s unclear that there will be a strong intellectual legacy in the next generation of academics and researchers. Having gone to UConn, there were several derivative papers extending his work I had to engage with in college, but only briefly.

More importantly, I think Confessions really pushes to the limit the ideal of self-awareness that’s not used to better himself. As someone who also views themself as quite intelligent, it may be possible to understand yourself, but if you still act in a way that’s worthy of derision, it almost becomes harder to have sympathy for his character as portrayed in the book. The poor idiot who steals is almost less blameworthy than the Madoff’s of the world.

There’s an element of envy I feel when thinking about Loury. It’s clear to me that race afforded Glenn opportunities otherwise unavailable, and it looks as if almost every opportunity was afforded to him to squander. He fails out of school, but then is academically resurrected by his professors. He lacks the focus to make it at Harvard’s economics program, but it’s clear that the Kennedy School is there to catch him. Despite his regular dalliances, he’s able to hold down a prestigious job while having a loving wife support. He resumes crack cocaine several times, after beating this terrifying addiction, alongside alcohol to keep his life exciting. Most misfortune in his life appears self-inflicted.

The cover story for this book is that he’s trying to lay bare his soul in search of absolution, slipping in seductive stories of his talents. He may be flawed, but his work is truly groundbreaking. He recognizes his flaws, and maybe the conservatives and fair-minded liberals of the world will grow to appreciate him. He can reposition himself in such a way as to be different than all the three named people who lack the ability to recognize themselves and their pathologies.

I’ve spent the majority of this piece criticizing Loury, even though I think this memoir was remarkable. In it, it’s clear his love for economics, the mathematical beauty as indifference curves bisect reality. Hearing about the inside baseball of what economic departments think of each other, and the socialite lives of elite academia. Equally lucid was Loury’s description of his childhood on the south-side of Chicago. Of how he lacked a functional family unit to assess, and how his social capital may have been undermined by his desire to be cool to people like his uncle. America’s Mr. Ripley, living in between two worlds.

I admire him focusing a lot of the book on his relationships with his family, and contextually engaging with his son Glenn 2, of which he’s had a turbulent relationship.

I especially admire his description of the seductiveness of drugs, and how they continue to pull you in, as your life falls apart. Hearing about him rationalizing his behavior during his inpatient stay, and requiring rude language to really jolt him out of his superiority complex was vulnerable in a way that I thought was insightful and relatable. At points, it waxes manic, when describing how he viewed himself as master of the universe, able to be with any woman on his arm, and how destructive that attitude can be to his life.

While Glenn has self-awareness, it was clear he struggled to see how his actions affect others. There’s little said of Linda’s internal thoughts, and perhaps a lack of curiosity as to why she permitted, or didn’t respond to his behavior. While there was a self-help book referenced that Linda used to accept Glenn, Linda’s perspective was conspicuously absent, although not sure if that was by design.

Overall, this was a fascinating and penetrating read into Glenn Loury’s psyche. I think in a lot of ways writing this book was selfish, letting sleeping dogs lie might be better for his wife, children, colleagues, etc. Sometimes ignorance is bliss. At the same time, this book reminded me of Notes from Underground Man. I couldn’t get over the feeling that his mind was restless and quivering, eager to take on a next challenge. I get the sense this book will inject some excitement into Glenn’s life, although I doubt it’ll grant Glenn the absolution he’s looking for.