As Matthew Stavros argues in Kyoto: An Urban History of Japan's Premodern Capital, urban history is more than a way to situate past actions; spatial patterns and architecture also inform us about broader themes of political and social power. In this richly illustrated book with nearly sixty images, including historical and digitally developed maps, and using a mixture of secondary scholarship and primary sources, Stavros offers intriguing insights into Kyoto over a long span of its past, focusing on, as he puts it, the “strong relationship between space, place, and authority” (p. xvii). The chapters are organized chronologically and cover ancient Kyoto and early and late medieval times, ending with a chapter on the early modern era and a brief epilogue leading to the modern period.

The Heian age (794–1185) is discussed in two chapters, one laying out the idealized capital (chapter 1) and the other the realized city (chapter 2). While the former offers an analysis of how and why specific designs and elements were introduced, such as the shinden architectural style, the latter focuses on the lack of realization of the idealized plan. Considering the importance of both early and later deviations in the Heian period, some readers may find the thirteen pages devoted to the second chapter surprisingly short.

In contrast, the medieval chapters make up four of the seven chapters of the book, ranging from the “fractured, privatized and pluralistic city” (p. 43) of the twelfth century to the widespread destruction of large parts of the city in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. Here, we find informative accounts of the emergence of merchant areas, temple towns, and retired emperors' temple-palaces. In addition, the treatment in chapter 4 of the concepts of rakuchū and rakugai as a way of demarcating spatial boundaries within and outside the capital in the thirteenth century is stimulating, if not entirely convincing. Stavros argues that the central area of the capital was considered sacred space dedicated to state and public functions, whereas lavish residences outside the capital represented the private power of the elites. However, the implication that all functions outside the rakuchū were private does not hold up if one, for example, considers the obviously public function of religious rituals such as the Sandai'e (the three great lectures held at the imperial palace but also at Kōfukuji and Yakushiji, both located in Nara). By the same token, the Kangakuin, which was founded as a university in the ninth century, had in fact been transformed into the administrative headquarters of the Fujiwara by the mid-Heian age. Thus, to indicate that a headquarters, located just south of the imperial palace, that issued decrees from the Fujiwara chieftain to temples, shrines, and private estates was a public institution is misleading.

Perhaps the most in-depth and refreshing analysis can be found in chapter 5, where Stavros shows how the Ashikaga shoguns placed themselves and their shogunate within the old structures of the capital. Stavros's treatment of Yoshimitsu (1358–1408) is particularly illuminating, as he argues that even the greatest Ashikaga followed the same ideas of space and power as the aristocracy had done centuries before him. In effect, Stavros reinterprets Yoshimitsu as someone who did not just break down old barriers, as he did when he eliminated many privileges previously held by the capital elites, but also understood and used traditional spatial concepts, such as the shinden, to assert his authority.

The following chapter on the Warring States period (1466–1573) offers an informative treatment of the destruction of the capital area but also of Toyotomi Hideyoshi's (1536–98) massive construction of a new layout that, according to Stavros, is the foundation of Kyoto as we know it today.

Having spent many years in Kyoto as a student and an instructor, I was delighted to learn more about this wonderful city from Stavros's book. And yet, I was at times bothered by a lack of analytical depth. In explaining urban developments and spatial concerns, Stavros frequently turns to political and social history, but he does so without sufficiently engaging existing research. For example, despite frequent discussions of public and private power, those concepts are not problematized. The definition of “private power” as signifying “the real-world influence of individual or institutions with access to massive wealth and vast networks of personal allegiance” (p. xix) appears oversimplified. What does this mean when Stavros claims that government offices were privatized (p. 52)? And how does one distinguish between such “private power” and “public authority” in the context of religious ceremonies? At one point, Stavros claims that the state had become “a profoundly privatized operation” (p. 37) but refers to no available scholarship even though he also states that it has been discussed at length elsewhere. In fact, the footnote erroneously refers to the wrong volume of the Cambridge History of Japan.Footnote ¹¹ In terms of Japanese scholarship, Stavros cites only Yanagita Kunio (1875–1962; p. 93), whose work was published in 1940. One has to wonder why more recent studies, such as those by Ihara Kesao (mentioned in a footnote but never engaged, p. 194n41) and Endō Motoo, were not consulted.Footnote ¹² Ihara and Stavros (p. 52) disagree, for example, on the nature of the administrative staff employed by aristocrats, with Ihara rejecting the notion that such aspects of Heian society can be labeled “private.” Moreover, the binary that Stavros constructs between the state and religious institutions is not sustainable, and reflects a curious appropriation of Kuroda Toshio's kenmon (“gates of power,” i.e., powerful elites) theory.Footnote ¹³ Whereas Kuroda argued that noble, military, and religious elites were integral members of the late Heian and Kamakura state, Stavros places the Buddhist establishments outside it when he claims that “temples and shrines had long challenged the absolute authority of the state” (p. 78), or that “the state's influence was attenuated by the legal and customary claims of temples, warriors and other kenmon” (p. 92). It begs the question of what or who the state actually is in this scenario. Accordingly, since his understanding of these kenmon seems to be different from that of Kuroda, Stavros should at the very least have engaged his works more thoroughly.

This lack of problematization of concepts is evident in other places in the book as well. Stavros never defines what he means by “medieval” or when it begins or ends, though the reader may infer that decentralization of power and the rise of warriors may have something to do with it.Footnote ¹⁴ The confusion is likely to increase when Stavros also brings “feudal bonds of vassalage” (p. 87) into the discussion, using disputed Eurocentric notions that have been heavily criticized recently. Indeed, one would be hard pressed to find scholars of pre-1600 Japan using the feudal paradigm today.Footnote ¹⁵ Of course, historians may have different opinions about such theories, but the point here is that applying it without explaining what it stands for or why it is applicable to Japan reinforces the impression of a lack of analytical depth and engagement with recent scholarship.

It is not uncommon to find errors and typos in monographs of this nature, and while there is no reason to be overly pedantic, this study contains more than its reasonable share of oversights. Several works cited in the footnotes are not included in the bibliography, and there are numerous errors in references to the Cambridge History of Japan. This lack of attention to detail is also reflected in the inconsistent transliteration of temple names, which at times are referred to by their proper Japanese names, such as Tōji (p. 23) and Nanzenji (p. 163), but more frequently are redundantly called Tōji Temple (p. 9), Shōkokuji Temple (p. 111), Daigoji Temple (p. 121), and so on. I was additionally struck by the statement that Nara was located two days' walk to the east of Kyoto (p. 79), when Stavros's own map shows it as being almost straight south of it (p. 5).

Stavros's provides several new insights into Kyoto's cityscape, and its rich illustrations should make the book attractive to a broader audience. The later sections of the book are particularly useful in that regard. However, I cannot agree that it is “conceptually sophisticated,” as one of the endorsers claims on the book jacket. There is a lack of consistency, an over-reliance on general and sometimes outdated secondary works, and an unwillingness to define contested theoretical concepts or to engage existing scholarship in the sociopolitical arena, leaving this reader with the impression that the book would have needed another revision or two.