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The Bone Gatherers: The Lost Worlds of Early Christian Women
The bone gatherers found in the annals and legends of the early Roman Catholic Church were women who collected the bodies of martyred saints to give them a proper burial. They have come down to us as deeply resonant symbols of from the women who anointed Jesus's crucified body in the gospels to the Pietà , we are accustomed to thinking of women as natural mourners, caring for the body in all its fragility and expressing our deepest sorrow.
But to think of women bone gatherers merely as mourners of the dead is to limit their capacity to stand for something more significant. In fact, Denzey argues that the bone gatherers are the mythic counterparts of historical women of substance and means-women who, like their pagan sisters, devoted their lives and financial resources to the things that mattered most to their families, their marriages, and their religion. We find their sometimes splendid burial chambers in the catacombs of Rome, but until Denzey began her research for The Bone Gatherers , the monuments left to memorialize these women and their contributions to the Church went largely unexamined.
The Bone Gatherers introduces us to once-powerful women who had, until recently, been lost to history—from the sorrowing mothers and ghastly brides of pagan Rome to the child martyrs and women sponsors who shaped early Christianity. It was often only in death that ancient women became visible—through the buildings, burial sites, and art constructed in their memory—and Denzey uses this archaeological evidence, along with ancient texts, to resurrect the lives of several fourth-century women.
Surprisingly, she finds that representations of aristocratic Roman Christian women show a shift in the value and significance of womanhood over the fourth once esteemed as powerful leaders or patrons, women came to be revered (in an increasingly male-dominated church) only as virgins or martyrs—figureheads for sexual purity. These depictions belie a power struggle between the sexes within early Christianity, waged via the Church's creation and manipulation of collective memory and subtly shifting perceptions of women and femaleness in the process of Christianization.
The Bone Gatherers is at once a primer on how to "read" ancient art and the story of a struggle that has had long-lasting implications for the role of women in the Church.
But to think of women bone gatherers merely as mourners of the dead is to limit their capacity to stand for something more significant. In fact, Denzey argues that the bone gatherers are the mythic counterparts of historical women of substance and means-women who, like their pagan sisters, devoted their lives and financial resources to the things that mattered most to their families, their marriages, and their religion. We find their sometimes splendid burial chambers in the catacombs of Rome, but until Denzey began her research for The Bone Gatherers , the monuments left to memorialize these women and their contributions to the Church went largely unexamined.
The Bone Gatherers introduces us to once-powerful women who had, until recently, been lost to history—from the sorrowing mothers and ghastly brides of pagan Rome to the child martyrs and women sponsors who shaped early Christianity. It was often only in death that ancient women became visible—through the buildings, burial sites, and art constructed in their memory—and Denzey uses this archaeological evidence, along with ancient texts, to resurrect the lives of several fourth-century women.
Surprisingly, she finds that representations of aristocratic Roman Christian women show a shift in the value and significance of womanhood over the fourth once esteemed as powerful leaders or patrons, women came to be revered (in an increasingly male-dominated church) only as virgins or martyrs—figureheads for sexual purity. These depictions belie a power struggle between the sexes within early Christianity, waged via the Church's creation and manipulation of collective memory and subtly shifting perceptions of women and femaleness in the process of Christianization.
The Bone Gatherers is at once a primer on how to "read" ancient art and the story of a struggle that has had long-lasting implications for the role of women in the Church.
312 pages, Paperback
First published July 1, 2007
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October 12, 2019
There is a substantial amount of information and keen scholarship on the evolving role of women in the early Church, but the overall narrative-style (“casual scholarship” as I like to say) leaves the reader fragmented and asking, “What did I learn from this?!”
The bulk of her claim that women were essentially effaced from Christianity—though they still continued to donate huge sums to the Catholic Church and feed thousands of monastics—of Pope Damascus is inherently flawed since it relies on historical reports from his detractors and critics! Legend is not the stuff of history; Denzey’s feminist bias, while appreciated, juggles the reader back and forth for too long before finally claiming that the early Church was just blatantly misogynistic.
If I am judging the theme of her work correctly, I can take home the following message. At one point, female patronae were exalted as Saints, but the narrative of their contribution to the Church was altered to the masculine spirituality at the time: saintly women were to be Virgin-Martyrs, not elite benefactresses. In this way, women’s roles were subjugated to the whims of the dominant male theologians of the 4-5th centuries A.D. and the power women had gained in Christianity as benefactresses waned (due to their control of the domus where heretics often found recourse and support in their teachings.) To play up the image of the “heretical woman” was to consolidate power and orthodox belief in a time of rampant Arianism, Montanism, Pelagianism, and Donatism; women simply had to be “controlled” in order for men maintain the orthodoxy of the Church. One way to do this was to extol an image of women that catalyzed a cultural shift in the feminine ideal from wealthy, elite women who centered their lives on their family to pious virgins who kept their mouths shut and did what their bishops told them...and a still handed over their money to the Church!
She spends a lot of time both critiquing Christianity for upsetting the traditional Roman family norms while simultaneously lauding it for allowing women an alternative to arranged marriages. She also notes that virginity prior to marriage in pagan Rome was the ideal for girls then goes onto claim that it was the male patriarchy who established the “virgin martyr” role for women to aspire to by the 4th century. Granted, martyrdom created a category for women to gain prestige in the Church, but our author fails to develop the fact that the ideal of virginity pre-existed Christianity (the Vestal Virgins) and was the original ideal for both male and female Christians as evidenced in both Mary’s virginity narrative and the Epistles wherein Paul advocates celibacy for both sexes. The “virginity ideal” was not a 3rd century invention, it was an ideal to aspire to from the beginning of Christianity! The 3rd-4th centuries merely saw a development of the theme and extolling of the virtues so as to popularize the category in theology (as we see from Pope Damascus and St. Jerome).
If some of this seems to fit the extreme postmodern feminist paradigm and not actual historical situation of a burgeoning, multivocal Christianity in a time of a fractured empire with many voices chiming in on womens’ roles, it’s because it is!
The bulk of her claim that women were essentially effaced from Christianity—though they still continued to donate huge sums to the Catholic Church and feed thousands of monastics—of Pope Damascus is inherently flawed since it relies on historical reports from his detractors and critics! Legend is not the stuff of history; Denzey’s feminist bias, while appreciated, juggles the reader back and forth for too long before finally claiming that the early Church was just blatantly misogynistic.
If I am judging the theme of her work correctly, I can take home the following message. At one point, female patronae were exalted as Saints, but the narrative of their contribution to the Church was altered to the masculine spirituality at the time: saintly women were to be Virgin-Martyrs, not elite benefactresses. In this way, women’s roles were subjugated to the whims of the dominant male theologians of the 4-5th centuries A.D. and the power women had gained in Christianity as benefactresses waned (due to their control of the domus where heretics often found recourse and support in their teachings.) To play up the image of the “heretical woman” was to consolidate power and orthodox belief in a time of rampant Arianism, Montanism, Pelagianism, and Donatism; women simply had to be “controlled” in order for men maintain the orthodoxy of the Church. One way to do this was to extol an image of women that catalyzed a cultural shift in the feminine ideal from wealthy, elite women who centered their lives on their family to pious virgins who kept their mouths shut and did what their bishops told them...and a still handed over their money to the Church!
She spends a lot of time both critiquing Christianity for upsetting the traditional Roman family norms while simultaneously lauding it for allowing women an alternative to arranged marriages. She also notes that virginity prior to marriage in pagan Rome was the ideal for girls then goes onto claim that it was the male patriarchy who established the “virgin martyr” role for women to aspire to by the 4th century. Granted, martyrdom created a category for women to gain prestige in the Church, but our author fails to develop the fact that the ideal of virginity pre-existed Christianity (the Vestal Virgins) and was the original ideal for both male and female Christians as evidenced in both Mary’s virginity narrative and the Epistles wherein Paul advocates celibacy for both sexes. The “virginity ideal” was not a 3rd century invention, it was an ideal to aspire to from the beginning of Christianity! The 3rd-4th centuries merely saw a development of the theme and extolling of the virtues so as to popularize the category in theology (as we see from Pope Damascus and St. Jerome).
If some of this seems to fit the extreme postmodern feminist paradigm and not actual historical situation of a burgeoning, multivocal Christianity in a time of a fractured empire with many voices chiming in on womens’ roles, it’s because it is!
February 23, 2018
3.5 stars
Such an interesting read! The Bone Gatherers examines mainly burial chambers in Roman catacombs, and incorporates an absolutely mind-boggling number of frescoes, inscriptions, martyr legends, and historical sources. The women that Denzey talks about are fascinating. The images are given more than one interpretation, and it was so interesting to me how my perspective changed in seeing those paintings. Denzey is so talented at weaving facts and narrative together.
The reason I gave this book 3.5 stars is because it is very chewy and hard to digest. It took me the entire weekend to read this, spanned over three or four days. I was on a time crunch, so it probably would have taken me longer had I not had a deadline. I think that the rush made this book somewhat less enjoyable, because I was not able to really take my time and enjoy every detail.
Ancient Rome is one of my favorite historical time periods, so I devoured this book, despite the hard language. I took off a few stars because I had a love-hate relationship with it. Sometimes, I was fascinated, and found myself excitedly sharing some of the information with people standing nearby. Other times, I was on the verge of crying, because I just wanted to be through with it.
Overall, however, the book was so chock full of interesting artifacts and evidence, and Denzey translates that evidence beautifully. The lives of these early women were so complex and interesting. I truly enjoyed it!
Such an interesting read! The Bone Gatherers examines mainly burial chambers in Roman catacombs, and incorporates an absolutely mind-boggling number of frescoes, inscriptions, martyr legends, and historical sources. The women that Denzey talks about are fascinating. The images are given more than one interpretation, and it was so interesting to me how my perspective changed in seeing those paintings. Denzey is so talented at weaving facts and narrative together.
The reason I gave this book 3.5 stars is because it is very chewy and hard to digest. It took me the entire weekend to read this, spanned over three or four days. I was on a time crunch, so it probably would have taken me longer had I not had a deadline. I think that the rush made this book somewhat less enjoyable, because I was not able to really take my time and enjoy every detail.
Ancient Rome is one of my favorite historical time periods, so I devoured this book, despite the hard language. I took off a few stars because I had a love-hate relationship with it. Sometimes, I was fascinated, and found myself excitedly sharing some of the information with people standing nearby. Other times, I was on the verge of crying, because I just wanted to be through with it.
Overall, however, the book was so chock full of interesting artifacts and evidence, and Denzey translates that evidence beautifully. The lives of these early women were so complex and interesting. I truly enjoyed it!
March 27, 2024
I was kinda torn on how to rate this, because the catacomb chapters are excellent, but the martyrdom chapter is kind of godawful, and the final chapter isn’t great either. But seriously, if you’re writing about gender and martyrdom, why aren’t you talking about Perpetua, and the genderfuck that is the Passio Perpetuae et Felicitatis? Also, uh, the New Prophecy and Montanism are the same thing. It’s just that the Montanists called themselves the New Prophecy. Also ‘was Perpetua a Montanist?’ is, from my understanding, still pretty hotly debated. (To be fair, I got out of early Christian studies precisely because I was both deeply interested in the Montanists and really fucking bad at wrapping my head around pneumatology).
That being said, minus one signature Perpetua rant, I would recommend this book to someone who wanted a refreshingly non-sensationalistic and non-conspiratorial look at women in the early church and at late Roman funerary practice that’s pretty accessible. Also, if you’re a goth and an Anglo-Catholic who believes a woman’s place is at the altar, elevating the Host, well, then this is a book for you.
That being said, minus one signature Perpetua rant, I would recommend this book to someone who wanted a refreshingly non-sensationalistic and non-conspiratorial look at women in the early church and at late Roman funerary practice that’s pretty accessible. Also, if you’re a goth and an Anglo-Catholic who believes a woman’s place is at the altar, elevating the Host, well, then this is a book for you.
February 10, 2018
Not quite what I expected from the description. Not all the women discussed in the book collected relics nor did the book really discuss relics that much. This is more about the lives and burials of women in the time when Rome was transitioning from pagan to Christian. There is a lot of detail about styles and types of burials and how to "read" the art and objects found in them. There are some interesting photos of ancient mosaics and burial art to support the text.
It is an interesting book, but I think best read with care to separate fact from conjecture. While I can appreciate the author's enthusiasm in wanting to tell the too-often ignored stories of women in the ancient past, she sometimes seems to fall to a temptation not uncommon with historians, that of reading more into something than can be supported by the known facts. When Denzey sticks to what is certain and documented, her presentation is solid and writing shines. When she veers off into conjecture and filling in the blanks with her pet theories, it't not as strong or interesting.
One probably needs to be truly into early Christianity, Rome, and ancient burial customs to really enjoy this. It's not a hard read, but it can get a bit dry in places.
It is an interesting book, but I think best read with care to separate fact from conjecture. While I can appreciate the author's enthusiasm in wanting to tell the too-often ignored stories of women in the ancient past, she sometimes seems to fall to a temptation not uncommon with historians, that of reading more into something than can be supported by the known facts. When Denzey sticks to what is certain and documented, her presentation is solid and writing shines. When she veers off into conjecture and filling in the blanks with her pet theories, it't not as strong or interesting.
One probably needs to be truly into early Christianity, Rome, and ancient burial customs to really enjoy this. It's not a hard read, but it can get a bit dry in places.
March 1, 2016
An intriguing but frequently unbalanced collection of gumshoe archeology, hagiographical research, and impulsive over-analysis, Denzey's THE BONE GATHERERS should be read with an eager but discerning eye. The author's interest and devotion to unraveling the stories and lives of women lost to time is admirable, and is much needed for readers to fully grasp the impact certain women (and the stories of certain women) had on Early Christianity and its subsequent mythology. However, Denzey strays. A lot. If not by a significant then indeed by a distinguishable margin. On this last point, the author often relies on supposition and conjecture to extrapolate at considerable length the names, professions, intentions, and public and private lives of historical figures as if their devotions were readily etched and translated for all to see. This is, to be blunt, a suggestive, almost exploitative way of honoring those occluded by more popular, public remembrances.
To begin, THE BONE GATHERERS holds immense value as a diagram of the expressions of women's authority in the early centuries. Whether in contrast to growing, established notions of ecclesiastical piety or in alliance with Rome's then factional and fluid, domicile-based schools of religious thought, the role of women in teaching followers of Christ hits its historical highs and lows within but a few hundred years of one another. This is where Denzey's research shines: juxtaposing liturgical learnedness, patronage, and participation in the face of overwhelming pressures of uxorial duty, and highlighting the reasons such intellectuality, means of social support, and/or sexual agency were forgotten, written out of history, or falsified and fictionalized for the sake of ego.
Of significant focus is the culture of death. In this book, the author provides curious and fascinating evidence of how Roman citizens, namely women, venerated the deceased. Death was never without narrative, and as such, funerary art, elaborately constructed catacombs and hypogea, and the overall notion of ad sanctum (of being buried near the holy) provides Denzey with an array of tools with which to deconstruct and reassemble women as keepers of the grave. This is an interesting but sad history, for what behaviors one generation may have held as sacrosanct, the next generation surely relegated as inefficacious, instead pilfering tombs for their riches.
Slowing down, there are some aspects of Denzey's analysis that are so broad and unnecessarily gaudy as to cause considerable head scratching. Indeed, sometimes, history is too incomplete (and thus too opaque) to derive any information that would make sense to contemporary researchers. Why not simply let history be history, however, is a mystery unto itself.
Denzey's analysis of the Catacombs of Priscilla is resolutely clever and posits literary dogma up against the culture of dogma, subverting what is long-held with what is, by all other means, rational. Murals of women at feasts, paintings of women with arms raised in observance of the holy, sanctified space for expanded martyrium . . . Denzey eventually hits upon a stark dilemma: have both historians and local adherents missed the obvious, blinded by piety?
Sometimes, yes. It was (and is) not uncommon for historiography to cull female saints or female patrona by amassing them into a single, simplified caricature/narrative worthy of veneration. Sometimes, an actual virgin martyr gets her story combined with a female patron, which later gets combined with yet another person of record, and the end result is a fast-tracked saint whose recorded exploits are so cobbled and so elusive that nobody can prove she actually existed.
Other times, probably not. THE BONE GATHERERS dedicates inordinate analysis to Pope Damasus in what is mercifully the book's final chapter. Damasus was a vile and murderous egotist, a fact no one rightfully doubts. However, Denzey seems to have twisted Damasus's constant reaching for power (and constant showing of power) into telltale evidence of a deliberate and consequential infiltration of women's social networks. Damasus was an interventionist, yes, but that was all. To presume his commercializing of the dead was a fixed effort of ecclesiastical patriarchy is an overreach; the man built his legacy by putting his words on everything, he cared not for whom it affected collaterally and no religious space was spared. Similarly, to presume that Damasus's systematic usurpation of local pagan traditions was an even shrewder means of erasing female figures of reverence is nothing but conjecture; the truth can be found on a much broader scale, whereas the mastery of ecclesiastical affairs as part of civil discourse allowed Church proponents to assimilate Church ideals into regional culture.
There are many stories of women in Early Christian times waiting to be told. Denzey's research tries to unearth those with the most heft. Indeed, women exercised religious authority; the questions of "How?" and "In what ways?" remain obfuscated by religious truth-hoarders, gatekeepers of doctrine, and in the end, a lack of preserved evidence. THE BONE GATHERERS goes beyond revering and celebrating women in ways that are limited to the male conceptual domain, and for this, Denzey's work is important. But readers should be wary of the author's belief that one can manifest history whole-cloth from mere shards of broken cubicula -- the expectation that this miraculous puzzle-piecing is somehow an effective vehicle for transcribing that which cannot be seen, heard, or spoken in its original context ever again.
To begin, THE BONE GATHERERS holds immense value as a diagram of the expressions of women's authority in the early centuries. Whether in contrast to growing, established notions of ecclesiastical piety or in alliance with Rome's then factional and fluid, domicile-based schools of religious thought, the role of women in teaching followers of Christ hits its historical highs and lows within but a few hundred years of one another. This is where Denzey's research shines: juxtaposing liturgical learnedness, patronage, and participation in the face of overwhelming pressures of uxorial duty, and highlighting the reasons such intellectuality, means of social support, and/or sexual agency were forgotten, written out of history, or falsified and fictionalized for the sake of ego.
Of significant focus is the culture of death. In this book, the author provides curious and fascinating evidence of how Roman citizens, namely women, venerated the deceased. Death was never without narrative, and as such, funerary art, elaborately constructed catacombs and hypogea, and the overall notion of ad sanctum (of being buried near the holy) provides Denzey with an array of tools with which to deconstruct and reassemble women as keepers of the grave. This is an interesting but sad history, for what behaviors one generation may have held as sacrosanct, the next generation surely relegated as inefficacious, instead pilfering tombs for their riches.
Slowing down, there are some aspects of Denzey's analysis that are so broad and unnecessarily gaudy as to cause considerable head scratching. Indeed, sometimes, history is too incomplete (and thus too opaque) to derive any information that would make sense to contemporary researchers. Why not simply let history be history, however, is a mystery unto itself.
Denzey's analysis of the Catacombs of Priscilla is resolutely clever and posits literary dogma up against the culture of dogma, subverting what is long-held with what is, by all other means, rational. Murals of women at feasts, paintings of women with arms raised in observance of the holy, sanctified space for expanded martyrium . . . Denzey eventually hits upon a stark dilemma: have both historians and local adherents missed the obvious, blinded by piety?
Sometimes, yes. It was (and is) not uncommon for historiography to cull female saints or female patrona by amassing them into a single, simplified caricature/narrative worthy of veneration. Sometimes, an actual virgin martyr gets her story combined with a female patron, which later gets combined with yet another person of record, and the end result is a fast-tracked saint whose recorded exploits are so cobbled and so elusive that nobody can prove she actually existed.
Other times, probably not. THE BONE GATHERERS dedicates inordinate analysis to Pope Damasus in what is mercifully the book's final chapter. Damasus was a vile and murderous egotist, a fact no one rightfully doubts. However, Denzey seems to have twisted Damasus's constant reaching for power (and constant showing of power) into telltale evidence of a deliberate and consequential infiltration of women's social networks. Damasus was an interventionist, yes, but that was all. To presume his commercializing of the dead was a fixed effort of ecclesiastical patriarchy is an overreach; the man built his legacy by putting his words on everything, he cared not for whom it affected collaterally and no religious space was spared. Similarly, to presume that Damasus's systematic usurpation of local pagan traditions was an even shrewder means of erasing female figures of reverence is nothing but conjecture; the truth can be found on a much broader scale, whereas the mastery of ecclesiastical affairs as part of civil discourse allowed Church proponents to assimilate Church ideals into regional culture.
There are many stories of women in Early Christian times waiting to be told. Denzey's research tries to unearth those with the most heft. Indeed, women exercised religious authority; the questions of "How?" and "In what ways?" remain obfuscated by religious truth-hoarders, gatekeepers of doctrine, and in the end, a lack of preserved evidence. THE BONE GATHERERS goes beyond revering and celebrating women in ways that are limited to the male conceptual domain, and for this, Denzey's work is important. But readers should be wary of the author's belief that one can manifest history whole-cloth from mere shards of broken cubicula -- the expectation that this miraculous puzzle-piecing is somehow an effective vehicle for transcribing that which cannot be seen, heard, or spoken in its original context ever again.
June 13, 2025
I bought this book after a conversation with Professor Denzey-Lewis about the Cubiculum of the Velata. I was looking for more information. A bit more detailed than I needed at times, since I am not a historian, but I still found enough in the book to give me what I bought it for and more. A good read for those into ancient tombs and early Christian history.
September 25, 2017
A really good, engrossing nonfiction text about women in early Christianity that uses fiction elements to better explain or introduce scenes in late antiquity.
May 27, 2019
Loved it!
Informative and engaging. Loved what it taught me, the variety of things that I hadn't anticipated when starting this book. Worth the time
Informative and engaging. Loved what it taught me, the variety of things that I hadn't anticipated when starting this book. Worth the time
June 28, 2020
DNF @ 20% ish, I think I got further in and never updated.
This was for school and what I read was pretty good- I’m keeping this book and will finish it one day, but it’ll a while.
This was for school and what I read was pretty good- I’m keeping this book and will finish it one day, but it’ll a while.
December 3, 2020
Great story of women in the early church through the looking glass of what they left behind on their graves.
August 4, 2025
Informative and well-written, but felt repetitive at times.
May 26, 2013
Fascinating read. Women were very influential in the early Christian church through being wealthy patrons and running house churches, but they were slowly stamped out by what would become the Catholic Church. The author rediscovers many of these women through murals in catacombs as well as explains what the switch from a Roman to a Christian society meant for women. I never realized how anti-marriage and family the early Catholic Church was. This was in direct contrast to the very heavy importance pagan Roman society put on marriage for women (although it was arranged marriage). Then again, Christianity did give women some choice in that they could choose the option to be a sanctified virgin instead of be married. At the same time, the church demeaned women who were married as being incapable of significant contributions. Jerome regaled one teacher who taught that marriage was good and married women could make a difference. Some Christians were even killed--by other Christians--for their teachings that were taught in home churches. Sadly, they were the real martyrs, while the influential and rich women patrons who funded much of the churches and cemeteries (and collected bones) became in memory only virgin martyrs who were remembered only for their choice not to get married and not for their real capabilities. I am fascinated to learn more of these home churches, although few records remain on them.
July 8, 2009
Given the dominance of men in early textual sources, one would think that much of the world of early Christian women has been lost to us. Drenzy attempts to restore some of this world by analyzing and intuiting meanings behind images in early Christian funerary art. Because the catacombs were much more democratic in terms of who could select the art, spaces reflecting the thoughts and ideas of women were much more likely to emerge. Denzey's use of these spaces to provide a picture of the life of women in late ancient Rome is often enlightening and her analysis of how these feminine spaces have been interepreted away by male archeologists in past is compelling. Her historical arguments often left me a little queasy though. Was Pope Damasus as pivotal a figure in the history of Christian women if the cults surrounding female saints emerge despite his de-emphasis of them? Were heterodox versions of Christianity really that much better for women? These are tricky historical questions, but the narrative of Denzey's work demands that she assume certain answers. Still, this is well worth a read and especially for those looking for a nice dip into Art History with an emphasis on the history.
November 24, 2011
Interesting examination of a little-known period in history, the transition period between pagan Rome and a Christianizing Rome, and a previously little-examined (or at least little-focused-on) group, women in the early years of Roman Christianity. Answers questions like why are Catholics called 'Roman' Catholics (the strong influence of Roman culture on Catholic traditions), opens a window on some of the ways different everyday people (Christian and not) of the time dealt with the changing religious scene, and reveals some lesser-known old Roman traditions.
January 5, 2016
An interesting discussion of early Christian women that goes beyond the standard virgin martyr narrative. I especially appreciated the complex interplay between Christian and pagan iconography, and the religious tensions between family members of different faiths. At times the artistic analysis could veer into insider academic bickering, though.
December 22, 2016
The first couple chapters of this were amazing - interesting, well-written, emotional. After a while, though, the information became a bit dull and repetitive. While the research was much-needed (into female art patrons and saints of late antiquity), as a casual reader, I could have lived without the second half of it.
Still a great, interesting read!
Still a great, interesting read!
December 29, 2007
Email me and ask me. :)
January 25, 2017
Reads very much like someone's doctoral thesis with all the good and bad that implies.
Displaying 1 - 18 of 18 reviews