The year 2020 was a good one for the Antichrist—and I'm not referring to the rapid onset of a worldwide plague epidemic, or the arrival of murder hornets in the Pacific Northwest. 2020 saw three new monographs about the ‘Son of Perdition’: Philip C. Almond's latest book (the subject of this review), Mateusz Kusio's The Antichrist Tradition in Antiquity: Antimessianism in Second Temple and Early Christian Literature (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck), and Shushma Malik's The Nero-Antichrist: Founding and Fashioning a Paradigm (New York: CUP). To this, we may also add Kevin L. Hughes's chapter on ‘The Formation of Antichrist in Medieval Western Christian Thought’ in the Cambridge Companion to Apocalyptic Literature (New York: CUP).

Each of these publications takes a different approach to the subject. Kusio investigates the origins of anti-messianism as documented in a wide range of Jewish and early Christian sources (Hebrew Bible, Dead Sea Scrolls, New Testament, Pseudepigrapha and Apocrypha, and the early Church Fathers). Malik focuses specifically on the figure of the ‘Nero-Antichrist’ as it developed in late-antique Christian thought, as well as its resurgence in nineteenth-century Europe. Hughes explores two different traditions of interpretation about Antichrist that emerged from Paul's Second Letter to the Thessalonians, and traces their development through various exegetes of the Middle Ages, before concluding with reflections by three contemporary philosophers.

Almond's intervention, on the other hand, is a sweeping survey—chronologically and geographically—of what we might call the ‘Antichrist Matrix’ (my term), in the vein of Bernard McGinn's seminal Antichrist: Two Thousand Years of the Human Fascination with Evil (New York: HarperSanFrancisco), which appeared in 1994.

Like McGinn's study, Almond's volume is academically rigorous, yet aimed at a non-specialist audience. It is eminently readable—I got through it in two very enjoyable afternoons—and is organized in seven chapters, which cover the history of the Antichrist in a more-or-less chronological fashion. Chapter 1 begins by summarizing Adso of Montier-en-Der's influential tenth-century tract On the Origin and the Time of the Antichrist, and then introduces some of the source texts for the formation of the Antichrist tradition, both within the canon of the Bible (the Book of Daniel, the Olivet Discourse from the Synoptic Gospels, 1 and 2 John, and the Book of Revelation); and outside of it (e.g. The Didache, the Apocalypse of Peter, and the Epistle of Barnabas). Chapter 2 discusses the contributions of the early Church Fathers, especially Irenaeus of Lyon, who was the first to unite various biblical elements (like the little horn and fourth beast from the Book of Daniel, the Man of Sin from 2 Thessalonians, and the Beast from the Sea in Revelation) into a manifestation of the future Antichrist. Chapter 3 explores the two ideas of Antichrist in the West as either immanent (hidden evil currently existing within the Body of the Church) or imminent (a persecuting evil from outside who is shortly to come). The North African Tyconius and Augustine naturally feature prominently in this discussion. The second part of Chapter 3 discusses the growing tradition of Antichrist in the East, and introduces additional elements of the End Times scenario that had developed by the late seventh century (such as the legend of the Last Roman Emperor and the evil nations of Gog and Magog). Chapter 4 covers Islamic and Jewish conceptions of an ‘Antichrist-like’ figure (Al-Dajjal and Armilus, respectively), before turning to the twelfth-century theologians Gerhoh of Reichersburg, Bernard of Clairvaux, Hildegard of Bingen, and Joachim of Fiore. Chapters 5 and 6 continue to explore the two competing conceptions of the Antichrist as either an outsider to the Church, or a hidden evil within it. Both secular and ecclesiastical leaders were common culprits, and the Protestant Reformation naturally added fuel to the fire—the Papal Antichrist endured for hundreds of years. Numerous authors are adduced, from French Franciscans Peter John Olivi and John of Rupescissa to the fiery preacher Girolamo Savonarola, to reformers Luther and Calvin. Chapter 7 covers ‘scientific’ musings on the Antichrist by the likes of Isaac Newton and William Whiston, before concluding with a discussion of the Antichrist as a ‘floating signifier’, a “general category available for application to multiple references as the demonic ‘other’” (274).

Almond takes care to ensure we follow his argument throughout. Readers will appreciate frequent reminders of aspects he has previously covered (he often begins a new section by writing ‘Let us recall. . .’), his not-infrequent resort to humor (e.g. chapter subsections entitled ‘Sexy Beast’ and ‘The Empire Strikes Back’), and the inclusion of thirty full-color plates ranging from Beatus of Liebana's illustrated Commentary on the Apocalypse to movie stills from Rosemary's Baby and The Final Conflict.

To my mind, there is one shortcoming regarding the citation of primary sources. As a general survey, this is certainly the kind of book which will excite interested readers to ask ‘where can I go to find out more?’. And they will look to both footnotes and the bibliography for this information. Too often, Almond provides citations and translations from the nineteenth-century collections of the Anti-Nicene Fathers or the Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, which often sound very old-fashioned. There are, however, modern editions and translations available of nearly all the authors that are cited (including Augustine, Polycarp, Hippolytus of Rome, Lactantius, and Gregory the Great), and I think the book would have benefited from seeking those out.

This minor quibble aside, I heartily recommend Philip Almond's book. Antichrist endures in contemporary culture—both religious and secular—and continues to excite our imagination. To quote Nobel Prize laureate Bob Dylan's ‘Man of Peace’ from his 2011 album Infidels: