HIV/AIDS is, unequivocally, the most-discussed disease in human history; saying anything new is an arduous task. Anthony M. Petro takes up this challenge in After the Wrath of God, the first monograph-length study to mine the fraught intersection of public-health discourse, sexuality, and mainstream Christian religion in America during the “long 1980s,” the period before effective antiretroviral therapies emerged. Petro adds to the fields of HIV/AIDS scholarship and religious studies, excavating the (overt and covert) infusion of medical knowledge with Christian logic to explore how moral messages became transmitted along with a deadly pathogen. Over the course of four accessible body chapters, Petro fashions an intriguing peephole into the early years of the epidemic, when rhetoric of AIDS as a disease inflicted on “deviants” by a vengeful God reluctantly bubbled to the surface of mainstream scientific and cultural discourse. Petro argues that such claims subtly impinged on commonsense evaluations of this new public-health crisis; furthermore, mainstream Christian leaders utilized HIV/AIDS to amplify models and modes of moral citizenship.

Petro seeks to scrutinize the impact of mainstream Christian religion on post-AIDS discussions of sexuality and public health, widening the existing field of interest by shifting focus away from the more discursively glitzy, rage-inducing antics of the Christian right, a faction that continues to exude a murky allure for scholars. Indeed, words such as “wider” and “broader” are liberally scattered throughout the compact introductory chapter (the latter term punctures – and at times deflates – the narrative at regular intervals). This appeal to mainstream interests is both a justification for and a shortcoming of this project, however. For although it is important to correct the tunnel vision of current academic inquiry, this tactical decision covers a multitude of sins, giving agency to those who already have privilege: white Christians. Petro is quick to acknowledge these oversights – “I focus selectively on some aspects of this history at the expense of others” (16) – but the lack of coverage of Latino/a and African American religious infrastructures, catering to a hugely devout cohort of American Christians, is glaring and disconcerting.

Nevertheless, After the Wrath of God has commendable strengths. It preserves and illuminates a cavernous archive, a treasure trove of books, articles, religious pamphlets, denominational statements, oral histories, and activist ephemera. It reappraises important events in American history, such as the AIDS Coalition to Unleash Power (ACT UP)’s infamous Stop the Church zap, a demonstration that is only now beginning to be understood and valued in the wake of mounting ACT UP scholarship. This book is, undeniably, a timely girder, steadying the still unwieldy interpenetration of HIV/AIDS activism and religion in the US. It is meticulously researched, well reasoned and well written. Furthermore, Petro constructs a logical, yet layered, narrative, steering readers confidently through the chaotic, traumatizing terrain of the early HIV/AIDS crisis.

But the highly cohesive and competent narrative belies the rather cautious, even antiseptic, key argument: that religious leaders and institutions framed HIV/AIDS as a moral – as well as a biomedical – epidemic, which in turn influenced attitudes towards homosexuality and promiscuity. This intervention will not shake up existing scholarship or even unsettle prevailing wisdom. As a hook it is predictable, lacklustre. Yet this pedestrian thesis succeeds in erecting a stable foundation facilitating the flourishing of more intriguing conceptual strands that weave through the monograph like glimmering gold threads. Near the close of chapter 2, “Governing Authority,” for example, Petro suggests that HIV/AIDS, and by extension the actions of those branded “other” (homosexuals, drug users, racial minorities), soothed painful denominational divisions in the turbulent religious political culture of the 1980s. AIDS, the most divisive disease in US history, actually acted to strengthen the fabric of Christianity in America, emerging as a much-needed bulwark against the rising tide of secularism, drawing historically dissident religions into the neutralizing fold of mainstream Christianity. Such conclusions spark throughout this monograph, illuminating the delicate contours of the somewhat boxy central argument.

In conclusion, the argumentative thrust of Petro's monograph does not promise to significantly disturb or recontour the field. Rather, it laminates, adding another layer of scholarly sediment, making the enveloped discourse(s) sound and durable. It has clear merits: it's subtle, precise. It is highly illuminating and supremely interesting. The handling of sources is confident; the close readings are shrewd. But it will inform rather than transform, a claim that Petro embraces: “There is a clear need for further studies to account for … countless other complexities. My aim is merely to contribute to the larger history of American religion, AIDS, and sexuality” (17). And he achieves this modest aim. After the Wrath of God is a well-rounded work of historical intervention, an accomplished – if limited – springboard, promising to propel future scholars into deeper, more conceptually complex, waters.