Ben Thomas’s book is the first comprehensive study of Edgar Wind’s critique of modern art. Discussing Wind and his take on modern art is, in more than one way, a timely undertaking, especially connecting him to a notion of “marginal anarchy.” The starting point for the book is Wind’s Reith lectures for the BBC on art and anarchy from 1960 that were published in a book with the same title three years later. Thomas first sketches the intriguing life of the philosopher and art historian that took him from Germany, where he was born in Berlin in 1900, to the United States and finally to Oxford, where he became the first professor of the history of art. As the main elements in his biography are of importance for the further thematic elements of the book, it perhaps suffices here to mention his study of art history, first in Berlin and later in Hamburg as Erwin Panofsky’s first pupil. Aby Warburg was not present at the time as he was undergoing treatment for his mental breakdown in Switzerland, but Wind did study in the Warburg Library, where he thought his “ghostly presence was very evident” (p. 5). Wind left for New York in 1924 due to his concerns about the escalating violence in Berlin, and during this first American period was strongly influenced by pragmatism. When he returned to Hamburg in 1927 he immediately struck up a rapport with Warburg and developed an important working relation with him. He became a research assistant at the Warburg Library and worked on the Mnemosyne Atlas with Gertrud Bing, as well as helping Warburg in his efforts to return to New Mexico. This review does not allow for too much biographical detail, but it is worth mentioning that Wind became deputy director of the Warburg Institute and, from 1937 with Rudolf Wittkower, coeditor of its journal. During his time as editor he stressed the journal’s “dedication to the study of symbols as vehicles of cultural memory” (p. 13), a sentiment that featured strongly in other domains of his career, for example in the case of the Reith lectures and subsequent book.The focus by Wind on modern art in itself may seem unusual, but as Thomas convincingly demonstrates, it’s exactly the application of the analysis of cultural memory to modern art as well as the relation of Wind’s analysis of modern art to his iconographical interpretations of Renaissance art and early philosophical writings that is at stake. As Thomas suggests it is possibly Wind’s interest in play and playfulness, in which love is intrinsically equated with both imagination and play, that allowed him to bridge the supposed gap between Renaissance and modern art. Or, as the quotation from his Pagan Mysteries in the Renaissance (1980) at the beginning of Thomas’s book indicates: “Intellect excludes contradictions; love embraces them”; love here is explicitly equated with imagination and play. The Reith lectures consisted of six connected lectures, respectively titled “Art and Anarchy: Our Present Discontents,” “Aesthetic Participation,” “Critique of Connoisseurship,” “The Fear of Knowledge,” “The Mechanization of Art” and “Art and the Will.” They dealt overall with the notion or rather necessity of art as a form of countermovement, taking Plato’s “holy fear” of art’s magical power as an important point of departure, in which art is appreciated even if it is placed outside of society—or at least at a distance from it. In this hybrid identity, art takes on a form of monstrosity that is both repulsive and attractive. This opens the way for Wind to develop an independent and critical view on art, in which the use of symbols prevails. Overall the notions and importance of holy fear and monstrosity in relation to Wind’s analysis of modern art prevail, as do the clear differences with the then-leading formalist opinions of Alfred Barr and Clement Greenberg.Thomas discusses the general content of Wind’s Reith lectures very helpfully, with the results of his personal extensive archival research, specifically previously unpublished lectures by Wind. He also discusses the influences of or exchange with Wind’s ideas in the work of three leading artists of the time, the now more or less obscure Pavel Tchelitchew and Ben Shan as well as the more recent R.B. Kitaj. Wind formed important friendships with them, although they do not figure directly in his writing. Of the three, the case of Kitaj seems the most interesting for a better understanding of Wind’s influence. Ronald Brooks Kitaj was an American who was taught by Wind in Oxford and, after moving to London, counted Gertrud Bing among his direct neighbors. But, as Arnold states, it is also his varied experiences prior to arriving in Oxford, especially through his links with Vienna, Catalonia and New York, that made Kitaj receptive to Wind’s influence. This is apparent in his development of his “diasporism” and the notion of a hybrid identity that played an important role. In his painting he was specifically interested in the interplay between image and text, as demonstrated in his exhibition and publication Pictures with Commentary / Pictures without Commentary, which Thomas discusses at length and in which Kitaj’s use of the “monstrous” collage probably best demonstrates Wind’s influence.All in all, this publication is so rich that it deserves more than this brief summary. Thomas concludes that in the complex relationship between myth and logic, Wind would have held that “a ‘holy fear’ of art’s magical power must also be accompanied by a distrust of reason’s ‘limping virtue’ ” (p. 201). This makes for the exact dynamic that causes both Warburg and Wind to remain of importance today. Thomas finishes by mentioning “the complex play of sign and symbol” in the work of Jasper Johns or the “richly allusive mythical scenarios (that) constitute the oeuvre of Anselm Kiefer.” Although indeed prominent, these examples seem too reductive. However, Thomas’s final remark that “Wind’s experimental foray into the field of contemporary art seems more compelling than ever” definitely rings true.There is a selective, but nevertheless extensive bibliography and index that certainly add to the richness of the book, but it is a pity that, in such an important foray into the world of Wind, the illustrations are only in black and white, and far too small for the context. This is especially unfortunate where Thomas discusses works in detail, and the poor quality of the illustrations means that they are really no reference at all. One thus has to try and find them elsewhere to fully understand what Thomas is talking about, which is rather unsatisfactory. It would have been worthwhile to spend the cost of the rather ugly or “monstrous” blue hard cover on a better quality of illustrations, larger and preferably in color, or at least to provide a link to a website to find them altogether. This issue might be solved in the eBook version, but it would be recommended, especially in view of the discussed subject matter around the important connection between past and present, to keep the printed version fully workable as well.