This volume takes readers on a comprehensive tour of developments in Catholic moral theology over the past two centuries. Its focus is primarily on the clerical and scholarly writings about this issue, rather than lay experiences or trends. The first six chapters are devoted to discrete time periods (for example, the nineteenth century, pre-Vatican II, and post-Vatican II); the remaining chapters are organized around issues such as sex, marriage, and bioethics. In each of the chapters, Curran weaves discussions of individual figures (for example, John Henry Newman and John A. Ryan) with discussion of movements (for example, revisionists, feminists, and new natural lawyers).

The sheer mass of material covered in this book suggests that Curran had to make difficult choices about what to include and what to leave out, about how to organize the material, and ultimately about which nuggets of wisdom to glean from the past and apply to our present-day situation. Does he succeed on all these fronts? Well, he certainly does not exclude much! The book is to be commended for the thorough way in which it covers, or at least mentions, almost every significant writer in Catholic moral theology during this period. As far as organization, he follows the expected chronological arc: monolithic pre-Vatican II era grounded in the confession-obsessed, natural law driven, neo-scholastic manuals of moral theology; the paradigm shift of the Second Vatican Council in the early to mid-1960s; and then a dizzying array of voices, methodologies and perspectives since then. It is in this last part of his survey that he takes on a more thematic approach. While the mainly chronological approach feels right, it may also feel tired to those who have read extensively in Catholic moral theology. Finally, what about the nuggets of wisdom? It is here that many readers want and expect the most from Curran, especially about the future trajectory of the Church. But it is here that I think most readers will wish for more. His short concluding chapter basically resorts to the position that there really is no way to predict the future of Catholic moral theology. Perhaps it is unfair to expect so much from Curran, but one feels that in choosing to take on this task, he takes on the responsibilities of the historian, even (and perhaps especially) because it is complicated by his experience as a “participant observer” (Curran's term). Curran has already written a great deal on the history of Catholic moral theology. He admits in the preface that this current volume depends on his earlier works. Several years ago, he also published a long-awaited autobiography that chronicles his epic battle with the Vatican. Thus, in some sense, we already know a good deal about what Curran has to say about two of the central foci of this book: the history of Catholic moral theology, and Curran's role in that history.

The way Curran chooses to narrate that role, however, is the most controversial aspect of this volume. Any history of Catholic moral theology in the United States would undoubtedly devote a significant segment to Charles Curran and his legendary battle with the Vatican that culminated in the 1986 judgment by the Congregation for the Doctrine of Faith that he was ineligible to teach Catholic theology. The “Curran Affair,” as it has come to be known, is central for understanding the development and trajectory of Catholic moral theology in the twentieth century, especially in the North American context. Curran represents one of the important post-Vatican II American Catholic voices—a voice that resonates with many progressive Catholics who want to believe that Vatican II's call for engagement with the modern world should lead the Church in a direction different than what has emerged from the Vatican under the papacies of John Paul II and Benedict XVI.

What, then, should we expect when Curran, himself a central subject of the history, is the historian? Curran is aware of this potentially awkward situation when he informs readers in the preface to his book, “I write this history as a participant observer and do not claim to be neutral” (xii). One consequence of this is that Curran decides to be explicit that he plays two roles in the book—one as participant and one as observer. He does this mainly by alternating between referring to himself in the first person when speaking as the observer/historian and in the third person when describing himself as a participant. While being fully sympathetic with Curran's dilemma here and appreciating his desire to be honest about his intentions, I found this double voice a bit distracting. Curran's decision to adopt this technique does, however, raise interesting questions about the appropriate posture of the historian.

This volume is a compendium of almost all that has been written about Catholic moral theology in this period. The 39-page bibliography at the end attests to the thoroughness of Curran's treatment. In that sense, this book is a valuable resource for those wanting to know where to look for more about moral theology. Fans of Curran, of which there are many, will welcome this latest offering for its ambitious sweep and comprehensive treatment of the subject, but I also think many of his loyal readers will wish for more. As it stands, this book would serve well in introductory undergraduate and graduate courses on Catholic moral theology and the history of American Catholicism.