Written in the late and much missed Peter Linehan's inimitable, lively, insightful, and, at times, delightfully pugnacious style, At the Edge of the Reformation explores the conditions of the Castilian and Portuguese Churches from mid-thirteenth century to the Black Death. He focuses on clerical misbehavior and the Portuguese and Castilian kings’ policies toward the church in the early fourteenth century (specifically those of King Afonso IV of Portugal [1325–1357] and King Alfonso XI of Castile [1312–1325]) which were intended to control ecclesiastical property. Linehan suggests that the shifting power relationship between secular and ecclesiastical authorities—a process which was already underway in the time of Afonso IV's father (King Denis, 1279–1325), and in that of Alfonso XI's great grandfather (Alfonso X, 1252–1284)—paralleled, to a certain extent, royal policies during the Reformation.

Based upon an exhaustive close reading of the sources and presenting his findings through engaging short vignettes and case studies, two initial chapters explore the intertwined political and ecclesiastical histories of Castile and Portugal. At the Edge of the Reformation details—with engaging and piquant examples—clerical sexual excesses, their abysmal education (especially the lower clergy), and, above all, their greed. Keeping concubines, not knowing Latin, and carrying arms, the clergy, as Linehan points out, differed little from the laity. Furthermore, widespread clerical concubinage led to the privatization of the Portuguese Church, with the consequent avalanche of problems. Noting also the absence of conciliar organization and these churches’ conflict with the papacy, Linehan describes how the two churches—with a continuous movement of unworthy (and some worthy) ecclesiastics from one kingdom to the other—were mired in anarchy, a situation not helped by troublesome royal minorities and noble turmoil. Yet, in spite of some clerics’ withering criticisms (notably from the canonist Álvaro Pais), this sorry tale of ecclesiastical misconduct provided secular rulers and high nobility with ample ammunition for their conflict with the church.

In a crucial next chapter (the third), Linehan shows how, influenced by French developments in the 1329 assembly at Vincennes, both Alfonso XI's Madrid Cortes of the same year and Afonso IV in Portugal asserted that the crown could not legally alienate property to the church whether it has done so before 1329 or would do so after. Emphasizing royal jurisdiction over ecclesiastical temporalities, both monarchs insisted on restricting who was appointed as important ecclesiastical dignities to only those born in their respective realms. In addition, Linehan also demonstrates how secular challenges to ecclesiastical independence and primacy coincided with the rise of royal advisers and agents trained in Roman and/or canon law (the sapientes) who argued for a royal power unfettered by religion.

Focusing on 1332 and Alfonso XI's self-crowning, the next three chapters detail the extensive kin connections that linked Castile and Portugal's royal houses, the significance (not for the best) of Alfonso XI's commitment to his concubine and to his many bastard children (and thus, his neglect of his Portuguese wife and legitimate heirs), the importance of self-coronation or, and in Afonso IV's case, absence of one, and the confrontation between peninsular “secular” attitudes and the new Avignon papacy. While the conquest of Tarifa and the Christian victory over Islam at the battle of the Salado (1340) also shaped the collective history of both realms and their relationship to the church, the interesting dispute between Castile and Portugal with the Avignon papacy over the papal grant of the Canary Islands to a Castilian nobleman (of royal blood nonetheless) clearly illustrates points of acrimonious divergence between kings and popes. Yet, the Avignon popes, though with enduring interest in Spanish affairs, seemed to have been particularly uninformed of what was actually taking place in Castile and Portugal.

With unfailing ironic and polemical vigor, Linehan unearths controversies and protagonists little known to most historians. Although some of the material dealing with the 1330s already appears in his monumental History and Historians of Medieval Spain (Clarendon, 1993), his contributions here are novel, representing an innovative approach to the sources and secondary literature. This is well complemented by his addition and publication of relevant documents in substantial appendixes.

Although short, this book is a good example of historical “thick description.” Richly footnoted, erudite, and original, the book opens new vistas on the overlapping histories of Castile and Portugal before the Black Death through its written portraits of individuals and events. By bringing many of the protagonists and their works to life, the book offers an intimate view of historical events and controversies that have been often neglected by scholars. His polemical engagement with other scholars is counterweighed by his generous praise of young historians. This has long been one of Linehan's trademarks as a leading historian of Iberia's religious life: correcting errors and praising the insights of others. In addressing the parallel development of Castilian and Portuguese politics and religion as one single history, he makes another significant contribution. Historians have long neglected the relationships—familiar and otherwise—between the two western realms, emphasizing instead the comparisons and contrasts of Castile with the crown of Aragon. Linehan's work serves as a powerful corrective to that approach, as it is his emphasis on the church and Crown's complex power relationship.

This is not a book to be read lightly. Few are as familiar with the material as Linehan is. His ironic style and off-the-cuff remarks may deter casual readers. Nonetheless, this is a work of profound wisdom, dealing with one of the central issues of the early fourteenth century and afterwards (think Marsilius of Padua): the Crown's “seizure of ecclesiastical sovereignty” (149). In spite of his comparisons to sixteenth-century England and Thomas Cromwell's taming of the Catholic Church, Linehan cautions us that the severing of the ties between church and crown was not always an easy or fully achieved goal. Presciently, he argues that “cutting free from Avignon . . . was destined to remain altogether as complex [a process] as that of leaving the European Union” (167).