A hilarious, sometimes touching tribute to an endangered American town under constant siege from the modern world
Bill Kauffman is a new addition to the American chorus of small-town voices. Think Garrison Keillor for 2003; Thornton Wilder, thornier and wilder; Mark Twain in a world gone Wal-Mart. Now, without the slightest nod to etiquette, discretion, or political correctness, Kauffman uses his beloved but beleaguered hometown of Batavia, New York, to assess the state of small-town life in these big-city times.
Kauffman, a self-proclaimed "placeist" who believes that things urban are homogenizing our national scene, returned to his roots after a bumpy ride on the D.C. fast track. Rarely has he ventured forth since. Here he illuminates the place he loves, traveling from Batavia's scenic vistas to the very seams of its grimy semi-industrial pockets, from its architecturally insignificant new mall to the pastoral grounds of its internationally known School for the Blind. Not one to shy from controversy, Kauffman also investigates his town's efforts to devastate its landmarks through urban renewal, the passions simmering inside its clogged political machinery, and the sagging fortunes of its baseball heroes, the legendary Muckdogs. Kauffman has created a truly memorable book about American community-with lots of hilarity and lots of heart.
a book of Americana history It uses Kauffman's hometown as a case study. I don't care whether he lives today within the city limits or down the road a few miles. Either way, one point he's making is that he's chosen to live in the general vicinity of where he grew up. I don't see mockery of or hostility toward Batavia here. I see a realistic assessment, touched with humor, pathos, and appreciation. Kauffman's fine sociopolitical viewpoint is icing on the cake. There's a reason Gore Vidal calls the book "A small masterpiece."
Don't Bother I find it hard to believe that this my hometown that Kaufmann is writing about. Notice he doesn't even live there. He lives in a town nearby. It's a wonder he wasn't run out of town (maybe he was and that's why he doesn't live in Batavia). I'm sorry but this is not an affetionate tale. Kaufmann obviously has no love for the town. Yes, Batavia has problems but any town or city does and we love them anyway. It's home. Go back to Washington, Mr. Kaufmann.
Reactionary radicalism at its finest I am a veteran of reading Amazon reviews, but this is the first book that has actually compelled me to write one of my own. DISPATCHES FROM THE MUCKDOG GAZETTE manages to be sweet but not saccharine, loving but not blind, learned but not pedantic, and spot-on 100% right about not just Batavia (which I have visited since reading the book) but about the insidious social and cultural effects of geographic mobility and "dynamism" generally. Kauffman has a distinctive voice that makes him one of the most engaging writers working today. Reviewer Mitchell below could not be more wrong (did Kauffman cut him off in traffic or something? was he on the Batavia planning board?). This is a five-star book if ever there was one. Buy it, read it, enjoy it -- and if you don't live near your home, get ready to deal with the guilt.
A Caustic But Loving Tale Of A Hometown's Decline This is a highly passionate and highly entertaining book. Author Bill Kauffman was born in Batavia, New York, and as the book's jacket copy notes, experienced "a bumpy ride on the Washington, DC fast track." After that, he knew it was time to return to his roots.
"Dispatches" is a celebration of the people and institutions that make Batavia uniquely Batavian, but it's by no means a rose-colored look at small town life. Because he cares so much, Kauffman is unflinching in his criticism of the community when it strays from its history and values. He's particularly eloquent in writing about the destruction of the city's old central business district and its replacement with a soulless mall, the product of misguided urban renewal. He also looks back at Batavia's colorful political history, including its dubious distinction as birthplace of the anti-Masonic movement; chronicles the decline and fall of Carr's, once the town's finest department store, the inevitable victim of the Wal-Marting and KMarting of America; he takes us to the local ballpark to meet the minor league team he grew up with, the Muckdogs. But lest we think the author's love for his community is wavering, we only have to look to this pronouncement: "This is my place, and whatever I might say about it, however caustic or corrosive my pen, I love it and will forever."
"Dispatches From the Muckdog Gazette," is an eloquent celebration of the power and importance of community spirit.
Sadly, Quite Accurate I hail from Akron, New York, an even smaller town wedged between Buffalo and Batavia on Route 5. The de-evolution of my town, Mr. Kauffman's, and the Nickel City have occurred in various degrees, and "Dispatches" pretty much explains everything with the kind of self-depreciating yet self-respecting humor that we in Western New York require to stay sane.
Last year I researched some of the local history of Batavia for graduate school. It still surprises me how important the area was in our nation's history, but no one ten miles away has heard of William Morgan, Joseph Ellicott, &c. If anything, this book will remind you that there's more to our nation's identity than the state-approved textbook, or what's on the History Channel. Those who live in the area should by all means check this book out. Some reviewers have complained about the number of confusing references, but it only took me a day and a half to get though it (the reviewers mention that too, ironically).
Also, as someone who's visited the Genesee Country Mall on occasion, I'm drawn to this book like a person driving past an auto wreck. Once I was walking though the mall's almost empty hallways (excepting the OTB, a bar, and a couple government services) and I couldn't help but think that They could write a book about this Dumpster of downtown America. I saw Wendy's wrappers roll across the floors like tumbleweed through Carson City. I've only been inside once in the past three years, and that was to show friends from Buffalo just how bad it could really be. Geez.
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