In The Anarchy: War and Status in 12th-Century Landscapes of Conflict, Oliver H. Creighton and Duncan W. Wright survey and evaluate an infamous period in English history via material culture, incorporating archaeology, architecture, art, coins, and geography in their analysis. Creighton and Wright, both archaeologists, offer an excellent example of what such a study can and cannot do to establish, confirm, refute, supplement, or complement any given historical period. They show a good grasp of the secondary historical literature of the period, as well as the commonly known primary sources from which they draw on frequently in their discussion. As one should expect in a work on material culture, the text is larded with images, including fifty-two maps, figures, and renderings in addition to a section of nineteen high-quality color plates. The sum total of these surely justifies the book's steep price.

As Creighton and Wright correctly note, considering “the Anarchy” a distinct historical period is a well-worn path for historians though not necessarily for the general public (279–80). For those unfamiliar with it, the term describes the era of King Stephen's reign (1135–1154), when England faced periods of civil war between supporters of the king and adherents to old King Henry's daughter Matilda, who also happened to be Stephen's cousin. Matilda unsuccessfully pressed her own legitimate claim to the throne, but later her son Henry became king as Henry II. Calling the era “the Anarchy” dates back only to the nineteenth century. Historians coined the term based on their interpretation of the written primary record, one constructed mostly by violence-abhorring monastic chroniclers who emphasized what they saw as a breakdown of government and law and order as local nobles fortified and aggrandized themselves. Creighton and Wright argue that although “the Anarchy” is not the best term for this period, neither is “Civil War,” since that term immediately conjures up the more famous seventeenth-century conflict (279).

Based on the archaeological record, Creighton and Wright challenge the former term but do not supply a more accurate replacement, thus conceding its usefulness for their own book's title. Their most important conclusion based on the archaeological record and study of material objects is that during the mid-twelfth century life did not change much for most people in England (150, 284). Moreover, based on the conflict maps in the book, they contend that there was less anarchy than the written record asserts and more “choreography” (282). In other words, among other things, the ability of Stephen's government to engage in protracted siege warfare with sophisticated fortifications (based on archaeological analysis) constitutes more control than the idea of “anarchy” conjures up. Even the activity of local nobles as they built their own fortifications was more purposeful than anarchic or chaotic.

Creighton and Wright are remarkably candid about the limits of using material culture to highlight a short historical window. Perhaps the most startling and pervasive limitation of archaeology is the difficulty of dating physical objects to a small chronological time frame of twenty years. Even the general public understands archaeology's value in the rough dating for the many millennia before writing, and no one quibbles over such remote dates that can vary over a century or more. Creighton and Wright admit that archaeology is most effective over the longue durée and not for brief periods of time such as the era of this study (284). Scientific methods and techniques of dating and the examination and analysis of artifacts cannot be that exact, even by using such mainstays of archaeological analysis as pottery (280–81). In fact, this inexactness positively hobbles assigning objects to a twenty-year period as Creighton and Wright acknowledge at least nineteen times in the book. For those who would place their hopes in iron laws of science to answer questions about the past this should come as a sobering corrective.

What also comes as a surprise is how heavily archaeologists lean on the available written primary sources when those exist. For example, chapter 2 is a historical account of the Anarchy written as historians would compose one, using mostly primary and secondary writings. Near the end of the book, Creighton and Wright note that archaeologists often rely too heavily on the written record to shape their own investigations and frequently try to support or perhaps directly challenge it instead of coming up with insights wholly derived from considering the material evidence strictly on its own terms, as one would have to do without written records (281).

Despite the many caveats candidly acknowledged, Creighton and Wright nonetheless offer what can be known beyond the written record. Based on archaeological digs of the last century or so, they confirm that warfare of the twelfth century was mostly siege warfare and that the Anarchy saw increased use of siege castles to partially blockade fortifications or bridgeheads. Many of these structures do not make their way into the written record, but artifacts obtained within can sometimes date the building of these counter-fortifications to the period. A specific case is the increased frequency of bodkin arrow heads found at such sites, which indicate the employment of more archers than earlier eras and also suggests these archers had a specific human target to shoot at, namely those with the wealth for mail shirts and other armor. For historians who study the Anarchy period specifically, several of the archaeological insights that Creighton and Wright provide will be helpful. For those who do not, this book stimulates thinking about the study and incorporation of material culture into historical discussion and debate for any era. Some of the maps and renderings are beautiful and offer interesting perceptions on the geographical scope of a long period of conflict but short span of time in ways that written description cannot match.