These two studies overlap in the theme of death in late medieval and early modern Europe, which in recent decades has enjoyed considerable scholarly interest. Methodologically, they represent a range of approaches to the subject, yet also share significant common ground. Putting them into conversation underscores this point and raises broader questions about how to do the cultural history of this period.

The volume edited by Sophie Oosterwijk and Stefanie Knöll takes as its object of analysis the danse macabre. The danse is difficult to define because of its many varied cultural manifestations, but the editors in their introduction suggest thinking about it as a set of images, texts, gestures and ritual practices which articulate metaphors for sex, sin, violence, social order and, of course, death. Within this framework, syncretism guides the narrative. Images, texts and practices borrow from one another. Likewise, metaphors derive their meaning from mixing and partially incorporating aspects of local culture. This is illustrated in sixteen contributions by scholars of literature, history and art history. Most address fifteenth- and sixteenth-century western Europe, although two studies present cases from eastern and south-eastern Europe. A comprehensive survey is beyond the scope of this review, but this reviewer would like to comment on a few notable points. Oosterwijk begins the volume with a wide-ranging analysis of poetry and imagery from the late fourteenth through early sixteenth century, arguing that the danse was symbolically effective through its incorporation of elements of dance, music, social satire and piety. Especially compelling is her discussion of the musical and performative aspects of the danse. In another thought-provoking piece, Maike Christadler draws attention to the intersection of sexuality and death in danse iconography, suggesting how fifteenth-century representations of female corpses were prototypical of female nudes and dissected female bodies in sixteenth-century art and anatomical literature. Christine Kralik argues that as the iconography of the Three Living and the Three Dead converged with the Office for the Dead in the fifteenth century, depictions of the dead became increasingly sinister in order to remind people more emphatically of their own death. Tomislav Vignjević analyses the danse cycles in the frescoes of churches in Beram and Hrastovlje (Istria) to illustrate the role of print culture in transmitting iconographic traditions from western Europe to the Adriatic peninsula. By contrast, Jutta Schuchard finds no direct western European models for the seventeenth-century danse macabre scene in the small parish church of St Hedwig in Bierdzany (Poland). In the volume's closing essay, Stefanie Knöll analyses editions of the famous Basle Danse macabre by the printer Huldrich Frölich (d. 1610), demonstrating that each edition, composed for different purposes, mixed and matched imagery from different sources.

In contrast to the wide-angle, syncretistic lens of Mixed metaphors, Charlotte Stanford's monograph focuses sharply on Strasbourg cathedral and one source: the so-called ‘Book of Donors’ to the Chapel of the Blessed Virgin in the cathedral. Created around 1320 as a way of tracking the donations to the chapel, the book is a uniquely articulated example of a medieval obituary roll. Donations reached their apex in the late fourteenth century, but persisted to the eve of the Reformation, after which the practice was discontinued. Entries document goods given to the chapel and prescribe commemorative prayers and masses for the donors throughout the liturgical year. Despite its high value as a source for late medieval history, the Book of Donors has received very little scholarly attention. Stanford's purpose is to introduce it to a wider scholarly audience, and to contextualise it in the architectural, liturgical, socio-political and obituary histories of late medieval Strasbourg. She undertakes this in five chapters. Chapter i provides an historical overview of the creation of the book, and describes its contents over its two-century lifespan. In the second chapter, Stanford makes a strong case for the book as a source of financing the construction of the cathedral. Chapter iii argues that fluctuations in numbers of donations reflect the social and political history of the city, including the slaughter of the city's Jewish population following the Black Death, mercenary invasions at the end of the Hundred Years' War (1439–82) and contentious relations between the Strasbourg city council and bishop. Chapter iv establishes the book's relation to earlier traditions by examining prior city obituary lists as far back as the eighth century, while chapter v compares contemporary obituary and commemorative practices in Strasbourg's other parish churches, monasteries, convents, hospitals and even its two leper houses. Stanford also includes a brief conclusion, four appendices and an array of helpful tables detailing the nature, content and monetary value of donations, as well as the identities of donors.

The volumes reviewed here raise further questions about the future practice of cultural history. Methodologically, these volumes commit themselves to the project of ‘thick description’. In Mixed metaphors, essays generally concentrate on extended descriptions of a small number of sources. Similarly, in Commemorating the dead, Stanford provides what is sometimes an overwhelming amount of very specific detail about sources or events. In each case the reader must draw conclusions about how these details gesture at a bigger picture. Further, this forces a telescoping effect on the subjects treated, overlooking opportunities for engagement with other historical problems. For example, this reviewer was surprised to find that Mixed metaphors devotes no substantial analysis to the Reformation, and was disappointed that Stanford chose not to include a chapter on the subject. It might be true on one level that this is beyond the parameters established by the authors, but is it not also a question of the method? Both volumes reference the existence of digital resources but, in terms of how they ask questions of their subjects, execute their research and present their findings, they remain traditionally bound to the physicality of the archive and library. How might a move away from thick description towards ‘big data’ and digital humanities change this, and create space for deeper and broader cultural historical analyses of late medieval and early modern Europe?