Abstract

Having lived in Rita Caccamo's Rome and other Italian cities for long periods, I was intrigued by Arthur J. Vidich's foreword, which notes the sociologist Caccamo's Roman background and hence her ability to see Middletown as an anthropologist might, from “the perspective of an ‘other’”—a position, he explains, very different from that of Robert S. and Helen M. Lynd, who made Muncie, Indiana, famous in their 1929 and 1937 studies. There are hints of that perspective in these pages. In the preface to this edition, Caccamo remarks on the sense of alienation she felt while living in Muncie as she worked in the archives; and in a very brief concluding chapter, “The Nineties in Middletown,” she suggests that Muncie suffers, like the rest of the country, from “the lack of cumulative experience” of the sort that Rome has plenty of. But that's about it for anthropology and the “other,” at least on the surface. “We European scholars,” she writes, “need to look at these phenomena without our European points of reference” .What stands out in this assessment of Middletown , Middletown in Transition , and Theodore H. Caplow's late‐1970s investigation is Caccamo's deep affinity with the Lynds' radical, pessimistic argument: that Middletown's community life was rapidly being eroded by limited economic mobility and, especially, by a consumer culture that increasingly valued money and the things it would buy above all else—and that Munsonians, in the grip of a power elite and overwhelmed by mass culture, were helpless to do anything about it. Although Caccamo sees weaknesses in the Lynds' schema—a simplistic two‐class model, a lack of attention to immigrants and outsiders, the failure to appreciate the adventurousness that comes with modernity, little recognition of the potential of Muncie's residents to challenge and resist power—none of these arguments is pursued with much conviction. Instead, she presents the Lynds as part of a larger group of interwar sociologists who understood the American experience very well. By the same token, she takes Caplow's “Middletown III” to task for its unwarranted optimism about family life, religion, class, and other matters. In a final assessment, she underscores Muncie's obsessions with privacy and marriage and disregard for single people. Caccamo believes that late twentieth‐century Muncie manifests the same maladies that the Lynds uncovered some seventy years ago.Those familiar with the literature on Middletown will not, I suspect, find much that is new here, except perhaps for an extensive discussion of the Lynds' controversial dependence on, and use of, the work of Lynn Perrigo for their chapter “The X Family” in the 1937 volume. What they will find is part biography, part history of sociology, part polemic: an effort to understand the Lynds as “committed intellectuals” and to appreciate what it was they found so repugnant about life in a city they had decided was typical of the American experience. That Caccamo succeeds so well has much to do with what some may see as an uncritical acceptance of Marxist theory and Frankfurt school arguments about the mass media that underpinned or reinforced the Lynds' work, but much to do also with the outsider Caccamo's Rome, whose coffee bars, neighborhoods, and vibrant streets bear witness to what Muncie once was, and could have been