This is a thoughtful and wide-ranging study of the politics of representation surrounding the image of Elizabeth. Adopting a thematic approach that the author appositely describes as “to some degree idiosyncratic and serendipitous” (7), the book nevertheless has a narrative spine that stretches from the courtly politics, dynastic insecurities, and qualms about legitimacy that typified the Henrician Age to the courtly politics, dynastic insecurities, and qualms about legitimacy that characterized Elizabeth's final decade. In between, there are four sections of short chapters on Reformation politics, international diplomacy, and what is styled “Resistances,” which juxtapose an underresearched discussion of plebeian politics (“Vox Populi,” chap. 12) with more innovative treatment of sectarian opposition to and the murderous enforcement of royal policy. Each chapter explores these traditional (and less traditional) concerns of political history in relation to the production, circulation, and appropriation of royal imagery. This imagery is in turn contextualized with a variety of sixteenth-century texts and relevant secondary literature: Montrose engages constructively, for example, with the work of Frances Yates and Roy Strong as well as John Bossy. Although obviously requiring the analysis of a large number of images (there are fifty-one illustrations), Montrose is quick to point out that his skills and concerns are not those of the art historian. While this is certainly reflected in the production of the book (all the images are black-and-white, which hinders discussion on occasion), Montrose's disavowal of disciplinary constraints can lead to exciting connections and arresting insights. For example, letters to Sir Francis Walsingham in the State Papers allow Montrose to note that in Paris in 1587 the anniversary of Elizabeth's accession was celebrated with the circulation of “a fowle picture of the Q. majesties sett upp she beinge on horseback her left hand holding the brydell of a horse, with her right hande pullynge upp her clothes shewing her hindparte” (137). On other occasions—such as the discussion of the Ditchley portrait—the analysis can be more pedestrian (129–31).

The form of The Subject of Elizabeth is an important feature of its overall impact and may well determine how different readers respond to it. Montrose adopts the style of the pointillist, unearthing or recycling vignettes, anecdotes, and factual nuggets in order to build up a larger picture. These serve to illuminate four recurring themes throughout the book. The first is the simple fact of Elizabeth's gender and its profound implications for her style of governance in general and the use—and abuse—of her imagery in particular. The second is the importance of images to the wider political issues and processes dealt with in each section. The third is the diverse ways in which different kinds of images could be physically and symbolically appropriated, and so the difficulty in establishing definitive or lasting interpretations. And the fourth is the underlying savagery of politics and courtly sociability at this time—in particular the intensity of “sectarian” animosities and the brutality, as well as aesthetic manipulation, by which governors imposed their version of events. While none of these insights is especially original, Montrose imbues them with a degree of freshness, and when they are brought together successfully the effect is powerful. For example, “The Tudor Sisterhood” nicely demonstrates the shared concerns of Mary and Elizabeth on becoming queen and, more to the point, the representational debts owed by the Protestant monarch to her Catholic predecessor. “A Cult of Elizabeth?” convincingly shows how the “courtly game” was “a core component of state-craft” (112) rather than a self-indulgent mode of escape for aspiring courtiers. “Policy in Pictures” and “Defacing the Queen” likewise demonstrate how the strategy of using personal imagery to endorse policy or propagate power risked graffiti and satire, defacement and ridicule—especially if the image was female.

Potential problems with the book for the most part relate to issues of intellectual taste—stylistic, disciplinary, and conceptual. This reviewer found certain sections of analysis overwritten. One anecdote is given as a half-page extract and then repeated almost in full in the course of a two-page (and mostly descriptive) analysis (81–83). Elsewhere a promising discussion of militant popular Catholicism at the time of the Armada is hindered by speculative explication (173) when a more systematic and contextualized treatment of the legal archives would have amounted to a real contribution to the burgeoning historiography on popular politics (hardly any of which is cited). Conceptually, the recurring stress on the polyvalent meaning and appropriation of imagery inevitably makes for indeterminate conclusions; likewise the pointillist methodology can leave the argument bitty and disconnected. Whether this is an interpretative strength or weakness depends, perhaps, on one's attitude not simply to “New Historicism” but also to the work of Walter Benjamin. Certainly, Montrose's style and concern for the period's lost (Catholic) “subjectivities” (e.g., 247) has the occasional feel of the Arcades about it.

There are certain lacunae in the book worth mentioning. While Montrose is surely right to stress the importance of producers, patrons, and the production process to the whole politics of representation, these very issues remain the most empirically undeveloped of the book. Likewise, although Montrose demonstrates the often disrespectful and misogynistic reception of royal imagery on the Continent, more might have been said on how Continental artists and aesthetic trends influenced the development of painting and propaganda in England. Finally, more research is needed on the interconnections between imagery emanating at court and the dissemination and appropriation of styles among the provincial elites—not merely noble and gentry households but also urban and parochial governors. None of which should detract from Montrose's achievements. Certainly, The Subject of Elizabeth is one of the most entertaining and suggestive discussions of the Elizabethan image that this reviewer has read.