This is a deeply impressive, insightful, yet also occasionally frustrating book. Andreas Holzem, professor of church history in the Catholic theological faculty at the University of Tübingen, has undertaken the enormous task of describing and analysing three centuries of religious thought and experience in Germany. Although the contentious term ‘confessionalisation’ is included in his title, Holzem prefers Thomas Kaufmann’s more prosaic ‘varying degrees of confessional identity’ (vis-à-vis orthodox teachings) and ‘the multiplicity of early modern religious culture’. In his view, there was no ‘Reformation’ or ‘Counter-Reformation’, but rather ‘stronger or weaker forms of enforcement of absolute belief’ (vol. i. 151). No one confession succeeded more than others, largely because the very notion of ‘religious identity’ was subject to so many dynamic changes, reaching far beyond the ‘fictitious watershed’ of Westphalia. His much broader topic is ‘the construction of the relationship between transcendence and community’ (ii. 1344) generated among the tensions between freedom and conversion, and how these developments shaped German history, particularly modernity.

In addressing such a monumental subject, Holzem displays a truly astounding scholarly mastery. It’s hard to believe that one author could write so knowledgeably and lucidly about such a staggering range of people, ideas and practices, including (but not limited to) theological disputes, diverse publications, church art, assemblies of all sorts (with especially good play-by-play accounts of various Reichstage and the Council of Trent), religious space, individual experiences and practices, and even witchcraft (but not magic and superstition). One could always find something to carp about, of course, such as nothing on Jews and very little on Anabaptists, but even a work of this length cannot do it all. Holzem’s judgement is consistently sound and balanced, and he is always alert to both nuances and contingency in his narrative and analysis. He is especially good on theological disputes and distinctions. Among my favourite parts were his even-handed treatment of Lutheranism, particularly in external struggles with the Jesuits and internal conflicts over the Book of Concord. His many anecdotes are both lively and illustrative and he employs a variety of sources, not just prescriptive ones. And he is able to keep to this high standard in coverage of three hundred years. Truly this is a shining example of the best in German academic research and argumentation.

Alas this achievement is accompanied by some of the stylistic challenges of German scholarship that English-speaking audiences find so frustrating. This is not always a reader-friendly book. Each of its eleven chapters is divided into ten to thirty subsections – perfectly normal in German academe but not a format immediately intelligible to a North American or British reader accustomed to smooth transitions and thematic (rather than topical) coherency. And despite a very fluid and clear translation by Charlotte P. Kieslich and Ansgar Hastenpflug, the dense paragraphs of the original (sometimes up to three pages long) remain similarly demanding. The occasional occurrence of the first person is abrupt and jarring. More substantially, although Holzem has marshalled a very impressive amount of historical literature, it is overwhelmingly German-language. A long section on visitations, for instance, makes no mention of Gerald Strauss; another on clerical celibacy ignores the important publications of Beth Plummer.

For me this all begs the question: who is the intended audience for this book? When it comes to a two-volume work of 1,371 pages of text, jam-packed paragraphs and encyclopaedic organisation, very few people (perhaps some reviewers and doctoral students) will read from cover to cover. There is much of interest to specialists in the historiographical sections, but also far too much well-trodden ground on familiar topics to hold their undivided attention. On the other hand, the book is inordinately detailed and occasionally abstract for the non-specialist (also priced much too steeply and with no maps or other illustrations). Apparently this translation of Holzem’s 2015 original publication is intended for a small audience of historians and theologians who do not read German and have a compliant library or a healthy research fund.

This is not even to mention the issue of length. I think that there are actually two shorter books buried within this mountain of words: one focused on the historiographical and theoretical questions and another describing in detail the evolution of German Christianity during a very long Reformation. Naturally, Holzem intends the latter to provide evidence for the former, but the sheer volume of information makes it difficult for the compelling and insightful thesis to stand out. The insistence on comprehensiveness, in other words, too often obscures a genuinely original argument. It took me several readings to make my way to the end and I am lucky if I retained one-tenth of what I read over that time (which may say more about me than about the book). I know that if I turn to the book again, it will be either for reference or for the historiographical discussions, but not for both.

Given the encyclopaedic nature of this book, this might be the most common usage by other scholars. Accordingly, the text is accompanied by a useful glossary of German terms, almost two hundred pages of bibliography, and indexes of persons and places but not subjects (which, admittedly, would have been a gargantuan task). For those willing to tackle the work as a whole, there are many rewards, but be prepared for a long and occasionally bumpy journey.