Through his manners, tastes, and beliefs, George W. Bush places himself about as far as it is possible to get from his New England patrimony. He shows no sign of thinking or caring much about his ancestry, never discusses it in public, and seems not even to know much about it.

He displays a brash informality and sometimes outright rudeness, kicking his cowboy boots up on the desk, swearing lustily, and holding garrulous phone conversations while visitors sit awkwardly in his office. His idea of relaxation is clearing brush in sweltering, landlocked Midland; fine dining a hamburger and a Coke.

George W. seems entirely genuine when he explains in his West Texan twang that his values w...

Through his manners, tastes, and beliefs, George W. Bush places himself about as far as it is possible to get from his New England patrimony. He shows no sign of thinking or caring much about his ancestry, never discusses it in public, and seems not even to know much about it.

He displays a brash informality and sometimes outright rudeness, kicking his cowboy boots up on the desk, swearing lustily, and holding garrulous phone conversations while visitors sit awkwardly in his office. His idea of relaxation is clearing brush in sweltering, landlocked Midland; fine dining a hamburger and a Coke.

George W. seems entirely genuine when he explains in his West Texan twang that his values were formed in forthright (and never mind segregated) Midland, and that his relationship with God is expressive, not Episcopalian.

To call this persona a conscious construction is not to say it is artificial. The president's Texan identity was forged in necessary opposition; it represents his attempt to assert himself as an original theme and not a familial variation.