Lauren Hough was born in Germany and raised in seven countries. Her upbringing included a stint in Amarillo, and she now lives in Austin and calls Texas “home.”
Five years ago, Hough’s memoir of essays, titled “Leaving Isn’t the Hardest Thing,” became a best-seller, telling the story of a life lived largely on the margins. Hough grew up in a cult, served in the military, and has worked a string of jobs that gave her a front row seat to corners of American life that many people like to talk about but never really experience up close.
Her new book, “Monster of a Land,” begins with a familiar American tradition: The road trip.
Inspired, in part, by John Steinbeck, Hough refurbished a beat-up 2001 Dodge van, grabbed her dog Woody and set out to see what the country looks like today. The result is part travelog, part social commentary, and very much a portrait of a country that can seem deeply divided from a distance until you get up close.
Hough joined the Texas Standard to talk about her travels. Listen to the interview in the player above or read the transcript below.
This transcript has been edited lightly for clarity:
Texas Standard: As the cost of living’s been going up, more and more people have at least been flirting with the idea of taking their life on the road, though maybe more dreaming about it than actually doing it. But you actually did it.
Did you set out thinking “this is my next book,” or was there something else sort pulling at you to get in the van and go?
Lauren Hough: It was definitely both. It was a little bit of, you know, this is definitely something I can write about. It turns out I stumbled into a job where I take field trips for a living, which I’m not complaining about.
But this is the road trip I always wanted to take. I always dreamed of packing up the car and going, and I always dreamt of going west. But I just never had time to do it with jobs and with finances being what they were.
I was living in D.C. for a lot of my adult life and I would drive up to New England for the holidays to see my family, but it was never a road trip that was fun. It was 15 minutes to the next gas station and then just try to make it, don’t stop, don’t stop.
What do you think it is about the road trip that captured your imagination?
It feels like freedom to me. Just the thought of it, the road trip I never had time to take, where I didn’t have a destination, where I could just stop and see that cool beach, or stop and find the world’s largest ball of twine.
It might have been the movies I watched growing up. A lot of it was books. I read “On the Road” when I was in high school, and I could not stop fantasizing about a car full of friends heading the road. A car full of friends hitting the road doesn’t actually work out all that well — you spend most of the time fighting about music and where to stop. But I had a dog and he’s the perfect road trip companion.
I’ve done a lot of road trips with him. I write stories for Texas Highways, and it was always kind of miserable because I had to get there. I realized a couple years ago when I was driving back from D.C. that I wasn’t in a hurry. I didn’t have to be at work on Monday morning, didn’t have anywhere to be, and we started stopping.
I took a turn off near Dollywood and found a state park and let him swim in a lake and we had a blast and we stopped at the hot springs on the way back and just took our time. And he didn’t mind getting in the car so much. And I didn’t hurt and I didn’t have that brain-rattling feeling where I’m still vibrating from the road, trying to catch five hours of sleep before I have to get to work.
And I thought maybe I could do this and it might actually be really fun.
Part of what this road trip is about is finding your own place in this country that you’re exploring. It’s almost like exploring a question of belonging about yourself.
And I’m wondering if this road trip made it easier for you to answer that question or more complicated: Where do I belong and do I belong to this place anymore?
I think it really did answer that question. I didn’t know that that was a question I had.
Really early on in the road trip, when I got to Florida, this guy came over while I was putting oil in my truck that just drained it. He was giving me tips on adding oil to the van and I was so frustrated with him chatting with me and trying to tell me how to do it.
And I would have told him to F off, but I thought it wouldn’t be a funny ending to a book if I got shot at the first gas station in Florida. So I didn’t. But then he saw the van and he did this little whistle and said, ‘I’ve always dreamed of doing that.’
I hated how quick I was to judge him just from… Ah, he was holding a beer at a gas station and the bumper stickers on his car. We would never have spoken.
But he started talking to my dog and he was telling me about his wife who had passed and how she always wanted to take a road trip to the Grand Canyon, but he never got to because he never had time off work. That’s not a big ask, just a road trip. It broke his heart and I’d thought he was invasive and he was just lonely and wanting to connect.
It colored the rest of my trip because I kept remembering this guy and how quickly I wanted to dismiss him, but all he wanted to do was tell me about his wife, who had a pet possum for a while.
I have to ask you about the title, “Monster of a Land.” What makes America a monster and is that a good monster or a bad monster?
It’s from a Steinbeck quote: “This monster of a land…turns out to be the macrocosm of microcosm me.”
You talk to people from Europe sometimes and they’ll be planning a road trip or planning what they’re seeing and they’re like, “We’re planning to go to New York City and Montana and LA. Can we drive that?”
“No. No, you cannot.”
We’re going to have to explain some things here. (The U.S.) is massive and it changes so many times and it’s weird how often it changes — almost at the state line where you cross over from Minnesota to the Northwoods into North Dakota and you’re on a different planet. Whoever drew those state lines had it right.
Ultimately, what was your biggest takeaway from your time on the road?
It is very surprising for me to say this — surprising to myself and probably surprising to people who know me — but I felt American for, I think, the first time. And I served in the Air Force.
But I found this commonality among us. On a very personal level, we want to help each other out. We’re all looking for the same things. We want to provide for our families, we want a better future for those that come after us.
But I felt a little bit — and it’s this great feeling that I’ve only gotten on the road — that we’re all in this together. If we just get offline and start talking to one another again, I think we’ll be a whole lot better off.
