‘Big White Ghetto” is, incidentally, what I thought the first time I met Kevin Williamson, in his baggy jeans and black T-shirt, chain wallet, wireframe beard, and shaved-bald pate.
It’s also the title of Williamson’s new book, and you should go read it.
This was in Philadelphia, that first meeting, at a multiday retreat for young journalists (I was young, he was a journalist), and over the course of a lecture and a lunch I came away with a fine first impression of the man.
The second time I met Williamson was at the old offices of National Review on Lexington Avenue — as I …
This article appears as “Notes on an Underclass” in the February 8, 2021, print edition of National Review.
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