Sixth in the ten-volume New Edinburgh History of Scotland series, Jane Dawson's Scotland Re-formed, 1488–1587 seeks to capture a holistic view of this turbulent century in Scotland's history. Developed to serve as an undergraduate text, the work begins admirably in its introduction to the varied contexts of late medieval and early modern Scottish life. Dawson moves seamlessly between biography, local and regional contexts, and the events and issues of national identity. Land, climate, and even diet receive apt consideration as strands of the rich tapestry of life in Scotland.

As a political history, Dawson's work ably provides a chronology of the people and key events of this century of Scottish history. She starts with the tumultuous events of the rebellion culminating in the battle of the field of Stirling (Sauchieburn) in 1488. Describing the regional and local “legacies of Sauchieburn” (40), Dawson highlights the deep feuds, rivalries, and at times shifting divisions and alliances existing between clans and parties across the spectrum of Scottish society. Her writing masterfully chronicles both the constancy and fluidity of these struggles for power, vengeance, and at times justice. The breadth of Dawson's view of events includes reference to and placement of not only “key,” but also many lesser figures of the Scotland of the reigns of James IV and his successors. The only weakness here, perhaps unavoidable with such a wide scope, is that at times the reader is confronted with a dizzying array of individuals and relations, and the development of any depth of understanding of individuals is restricted to select figures. One example where Dawson succeeds is with Elphinstone, bishop of Aberdeen. Shedding light on the bishop at several points in her volume, she commends his “personal integrity” (39), provides some evidence of it, and gives glimpses of his seasoned political ability, desire for ecclesiastical reform, and efforts toward educational development. The description leaves the reader longing for more—a hallmark of a good historical survey text.

Though trained as a political historian, Dawson serves as professor of Reformation History in the School of Divinity at the University of Edinburgh (formerly New College). Once a bastion of Church of Scotland Presbyterianism and Reformed theology, the former New College's amalgamation into the thoroughly post-Christian University of Edinburgh is reflective of the philosophical and theological shifts it has experienced. Dawson's historiography reflects similar shifts. She writes in a way perhaps best be described as “new Scottish history”: bearing parallels to, albeit distinct from, the new British history. Dawson's historiography is undergirded by several basic imperatives. One of these, a common thread in older Marxist theory, more recently recast in postmodern literary theory, is the belief that the impulse of historical process is found in the struggle for power. This somewhat Machiavellian theme and approach is abundantly evident in Dawson's work as a political historian. Struggles for power certainly occurred in Scotland, but Dawson's approach to power as an organizing and interpretive framework colors her rendering of history to the extent of distorting Scottish history. An example of Dawson's deconstruction and reconstruction according to this power worldview can be found in her narrative of bishop Elphinstone. Though she portrays Elphinstone as having integrity, Dawson later argues that the bishop was merely playing the same pragmatic political power game for royal privilege as the rest, despite relating his objections to “Alexander's appointment on canon law grounds” (67). Possibly, but where is the evidence? With pursuit of power Dawson's dominant theme and interpretive grid, other realities and approaches are relegated to the status of subservient or fragmented bits.

It is in the area of the religious history of late medieval and early Reformation Scotland that it appears most evident Dawson is playing the role of the “empowered” historian, using literary license to recast a narrative of history according to the whims of her own worldview. Much of this is accomplished by means disconnected from sound historical scholarship: a generally sympathetic use of descriptive language toward Roman Catholic history and thought in Scotland, but an often disparaging vocabulary and greater fragmentation and obliqueness regarding Scottish Protestant history and thought. Mary of Guise receives high praise as ruling “with grace and ease,” “generosity of spirit and delicate tact … adding her own luster to the imperial court … later to prove she could also rule” (139), while George Wishart, executed under her reign for his Protestant faith, was an “incendiary preacher” (164) who Dawson suggests had a death wish anyway, intending by his death to give “a martyr's seal to his cause” (166). Cardinal Beaton rounded up, by Dawson's choice of language, a less than intelligent group of Protestants, a “gaggle of heretics and burned five of them,” and John Knox is portrayed as delusional, his concern in this context regarding “a united episcopal bench bloodthirstily intent upon eradicating heresy was one of [his] imaginative creations” (144–45). Dawson's language belittles Protestants and their sufferings, giving the impression they were self-inflicted or imaginary. Yet, while no Catholics were martyred in Scotland, Dawson casts Catholic sufferings in far more ominous language, describing Protestants as using “aggressive” “intimidation” for “religious cleansing” (208). From the point of view of scholarship in religious history, perhaps Dawson's most glaring fault is the failure to substantively explain the theological systems and beliefs that lay behind the practices and culture of both the Roman Catholics and Protestants and to explain why increasing numbers of Roman Catholics willingly became Protestants, even in the face of persecution and martyrdom. The theory of power contributes little in this regard. As with many textbooks, there is a pervasive lack of referencing; the end result is that despite its strengths, the charge comes easily that the religious narrative of Scotland Re-formed, 1488–1587 is often more polemic than historic, more propaganda than history.