This fine book succeeds admirably in accomplishing its ambitious goal to summarize the lengthy, rich, and complicated history of Polish Catholicism in a single, compact volume, in English, addressed to academic and general readers alike. This is no easy task. Of course, few countries are so closely identified with the Catholic Church as Poland, as reflected in the title that pairs the traditional coat of arms of the country with its most cherished religious icon as complementary symbols of patriotism. But as ably demonstrated by author Robert Alvis, an accomplished scholar in the field, this relationship has meant different things at different times, and with differing consequences for the lands and peoples associated with Poland over the past millennium, and for the broader story of Catholicism worldwide as well.

Alvis presents his book as a respectful updating of its nearest comparison, the English translation of the estimable A History of Polish Christianity (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000) by Jerzy Kłoczowski, the dean of Polish Church historians. He notes rightly that Kłoczowski's book, having been published originally in Poland in 1987, does not take account of the eventful quarter century that has elapsed since the collapse of communist rule, as the Polish Church has struggled to establish a comfortable presence in a pluralist and democratic setting, or of the considerable scholarship on the subject that has appeared during that time. Furthermore, he contends, Kłoczowski takes for granted a familiarity with the tricky intricacies of the Polish past that most readers of English would lack, and that his work, for all its virtues, does not escape “certain blind spots common to Polish historiography” (xi). These are fair points all, though those same non-Polish readers might wish to have been told what blind spots he means, and why it matters to know about them.

The two books tell the same essential story, and with equally impressive authority, but with discernible differences of construction and approach. Where Kłoczowski, a Pole addressing a Polish audience, has the luxury of emphasizing the part his country has played in the history of Christianity writ large, Alvis sees his primary duty as informing his audience about Poland itself, and its own particular brand of religious heritage. Accordingly, the chapter organization of White Eagle, Black Madonna follows the conventional periodization of Polish political history, and maintains a tight focus on the country, and its alternating triumphs and travails throughout. At times, his adherence to this approach comes at the expense of useful context—for instance, the crucially important discussion of the half century phase of communist rule in Poland after World War II skimps in making clear that Poland was part of the larger Soviet bloc of countries with regimes similarly hostile to religion—but on the whole, it works well. In each of the chronologically arranged chapters, from the baptism of Poland in 966 to the issues of church and state in the country in the era of the current Third Polish Republic, the author begins by sketching the principal political events of each succeeding period of national history, and then proceeds to describe the accompanying institutional developments within the Church and the religious experience of the Polish Catholic faithful themselves, drawing on a comprehensive awareness of the most useful published scholarship, and examination of the material evidence to be found in ecclesiastical architecture and art.

White Eagle, Black Madonna stresses two principal themes, both of them well taken. The first is that “Catholicism has always mattered profoundly in Poland” (277). While on its face this statement may seem unhelpfully self-evident, Alvis excels in showing that the way it has mattered has varied according to time and circumstance. So in the uncertain infancy of medieval Polish statehood, the Church served as a source of unity and stability; when in its heyday the Commonwealth of Poland-Lithuania governed a large, polyglot, and multi-confessional realm, the religious culture of the country ranked among the most latitudinarian in Europe; and in more recent centuries of foreign rule or antireligious dictatorship, Catholicism became ever more a signifier of Polishness, and frequently a source of resistance against oppression and, as during the reign of a Polish pope, of national liberation. The second theme is that the book seeks to consider “what Polish Catholics have chosen to remember about their past and sometimes what they have chosen to forget” (xii), in other words, the contrast between an idealized view of the history of Catholicism in Poland commonly found among Poles as well as numerous commentators abroad, and the messier or less attractive aspects that do not fit comfortably within triumphalist myths. So Alvis necessarily tackles subjects such as the proneness to intolerance that has become associated with certain strains of Polish Catholicism, receptive to narrow nationalism and antisemitism. These are controversial and complex topics, difficult to summarize in the limited space the author has to treat them, and he is to be commended both for his candor and his balance.

In sum, says Alvis in closing, “one simply cannot make sense of Poland's history without coming to terms with the impact of its dominant religion. For that matter, the significance of Polish Catholicism to the broader history of Christianity is considerably greater than is commonly understood” (277). Few readers will disagree after having closed the covers of White Eagle, Black Madonna, a masterly synthesis of a daunting but vital subject in the history of Catholicism, and of the world.