This wide-ranging, densely argued, and beautifully illustrated volume represents the culmination of its authors’ long-standing research engagement with the iconography of non-narrative images of the dead Christ in northeastern Italy, from Paolo Veneziano to Paolo Veronese. Their previous findings have been published (beginning in 2006) in journals and anthologies, in their catalogue to an exhibition at the Museum of Biblical Art in New York (Passion in Venice, 2011), and (with the work of other scholars) in the papers of a symposium held in conjunction with that exhibition (New Perspectives on the Man of Sorrows, 2013). Though best known as scholars of the Roman Seicento (Puglisi) and the Venetian Settecento (Barcham), in this project they have pivoted to an earlier era, roughly 1300 to 1600. As they show, these are the centuries during which the Man of Sorrows image and its variously hybridized successors took root and flourished in Venice and its sphere of political and cultural influence. (A brief epilogue covers a handful of less salient artworks made between ca. 1650 and ca. 1750.) Painting dominates their discussion, but sculpture, prints, drawings, and metalwork are well represented.

While it seems likely that the authors have amassed a considerable database that would have allowed them to compile a Kaftal-like index of compositional variants and motifs, they have instead opted for a complex narrative which folds together several approaches. Puglisi and Barcham characterize the trope of the dead Christ as, paradoxically, a kind of living organism, developed from a Byzantine seed, evolving in response to new forms of personal piety, institutional practices of worship (including those of confraternities), and the state's varying needs to deploy sacred imagery; but all of this is framed within the context of artists’ obligations to both satisfy patrons and articulate their own stylistic identities. When enough is known about the circumstances of a commission, this can result in impressively nuanced readings, but with works that have lost their original moorings, speculation about intent and meaning sometimes feels excessive—though the authors are usually careful to note the contingency of their views in these cases. Puglisi and Barcham fervently evoke the spiritual response these often grueling images might have elicited in believers of the period, but in several places their own understanding of the theology of Christ's sacrifice leads to overstatement. For example, the open mouth of the dead Christ, found in many images, is less likely to be a sign of impending reanimation (of the resurrected body) than it is to be a marker of the body's utter loss of control in death.

In iconographic studies, it can be difficult to securely establish the boundaries of the investigation. Puglisi and Barcham are quite disciplined in terms of chronology (except for the brief epilogue), but they are less severe when it comes to geography. There must of course be (and there is) discussion of comparative works from other traditions (mainly the Tuscan and the Germanic), but the decision to include works from places such as Verona, Padua, and Friuli before they came under the control of the Venetian state is more problematic. On the other hand, the section on Veneto-Cretan painting's adoption of the Man of Sorrows is highly effective. Another strength of the study is its attention to terminology. The tracing of the development of the term Cristo passo is particularly astute.

No doubt this book will serve as an essential resource for scholars studying any late medieval or early modern depiction of the dead Christ, not only in Venice and the Veneto, but also further afield. Its vast bibliography, fine index, and extensive endnotes make it an excellent reference tool, and the discursive notes make some striking points, including a reference to the presence of a tattoo of Florigerio's sprawling Dead Christ (ca. 1530) on the soccer star David Beckham's chest! However, the absence of dimensions in the captions and list of illustrations is a surprising omission, which sometimes makes it harder to evaluate the authors’ contentions about the relationship between artworks. The illustrations themselves are impressive and include many little-known objects in far-flung or difficult-to-access venues. More energetic editing might have tightened up the text and smoothed out some stilted phrasing.