Tamar M. Boyadjian's The City Lament is an important contribution to medieval Mediterranean studies. Through her analysis of laments over Jerusalem in Latin, Arabic, and Armenian literature, Boyadjian challenges the traditional Crusader framework that often reduces discussions of Jerusalem in the Middle Ages to a Christian-Muslim oppositional binary. In this book, Boyadjian explores how various ethnoreligious cultures in the Mediterranean participated in the tradition of city laments going back to ancient times. Rather than treating literary texts strictly within traditional national boundaries, Boyadjian emphasizes cross-cultural contact in the Mediterranean and demonstrates shared participation in the tradition of city laments across ethnoreligious groups. As she notes, “Using the Mediterranean, rather than the Crusades, as a framework for analysis encourages readings that move beyond European realities; such readings recognize reciprocal exchanges and commonalities across cultures in the period and acknowledge the significance of the impact of Mediterranean networks on literary works that have only been considered within national frameworks in the past” (9). Boyadjian's framing results in readings that illustrate localized uses of motifs that demonstrate commonalities across cultures.Chapter 1 outlines the qualities of lamenting Jerusalem for various ethnoreligious groups active in the Mediterranean and how medieval laments adapted thematic tropes of lamentation from the Hebrew Bible, especially the Book of Lamentations, to their own social and political needs. Motifs of Mesopotamian city laments that influenced the Hebrew Bible are also identified, such as personifying the city as a morally impure woman, attributing the fall to the sins of the inhabitants, and the eventual reconquest of the city. The remainder of the chapter addresses the role and perception of Jerusalem in the Latin West (where the earthly city was seen as a means toward the heavenly Jerusalem prior to its capture in 1099 CE), the Arabo-Islamic tradition (where praise and Qur'anic exegeses around Jerusalem developed), and in Cilician Armenia (where laments of Jerusalem presented prince, and later king, Levon as an ally of Rome).Chapter 2 analyzes a lament over the fall of Jerusalem attributed to Abū al-Muẓaffar Ibn al-Abīwardī, a jurist who lived in Baghdad when the Franks invaded Jerusalem in 1099 CE. The lament is imbedded in Ibn al-Athīr's al-Kāmil fī al-Tārīkh (The complete history), composed in 1231 CE. While Ibn al-Abīwardī's lament stresses the unity of Islam in the Levant, it appeals to the Abbasids for defense, which Boyadjian notes might suggest the author's championing of the Abbasids over their Fatmid rivals. Ibn al-Athīr's chronicle presents competing images of Jerusalem by alluding to various groups, like the Fatimids and the Seljuqs, who ruled the city prior to the Frankish conquest. The chapter concludes that together, the lament and the chronicle present Jerusalem as “a metaphorical interlude between past and present” used to call for Islamic unity (72).Chapter 3 focuses on four accounts of the First Crusade that include versions of Pope Urban II's speeches at Clermont: the Gesta Francorum Iherusalem Peregrinantium (The deeds of the Franks on their journey to Jerusalem) by Fulcher of Chartres, the Historia Iherosolymitana (History of Jerusalem) by Robert the Monk, the Historia Jherosolimitana (History of Jerusalem) by Baldric of Dol, and the Gesta Dei per Francos (The deeds of God through the Franks) by Guibert of Norgent. These four accounts, Boyadjian argues, rely on the model of lamentation from the Hebrew Bible, and attempt to establish an “official” version of the conquest of Jerusalem. They also shift Christian attitudes toward the city, placing a greater emphasis on the physical Jerusalem than the Catholic Church did prior to the conquest. Guibert's and Robert's accounts attempted to “correct” the narrative of the anonymous Gesta Francorum (Deeds of the Franks), composed circa 1100 CE, which focused more on Antioch than on Jerusalem. In keeping with the tropes of city laments, these texts present the loss of Jerusalem as resulting from the moral failings of Christians and use the Old Testament to present Jerusalem as prophesied for the Christians, thus justifying aggression against the city.The focus of chapter 4 is the lament composed by Grigor IV Tłay, “the Catholicos or high patriarch of all Armenians,” composed in 1189 CE, two years after Ṣalāḥ al-Dīn's capture of the city in 1187 (106). Grigor's Asac‘eal ban ołbergakan vasn aṙmann Erusałēmi (Poem of lamentation over the capture of Jerusalem) participates in the Armenian tradition of laments going back to Biblical lamentation. Boyadjian argues that Grigor's lament uses the model of the city lament to engage with the sociopolitical circumstances of contemporary Cilician Armenians and advance the goal of creating an independent kingdom of Cilician Armenia. Following the persecution of Armenians by the Byzantine emperor Alexius II Comnenus, Grigor Tłay turned his efforts away from the Greek Church and toward the Roman one, which had just called for the Third Crusade. In exchange for support in the Crusade from Prince Levon, Pope Clement III and Holy Roman Emperor Frederick Barbarossa agreed to combine Armenian lands in Cilicia into an independent kingdom. Grigor's lament uses textual geography to present Jerusalem in an Armenian context and to establish the historical presence of Armenians in the city. It also compares Prince Levon II with warriors from the Old Testament and with Armenian mythological heroes.Chapter 5 closes the book with what Boyadjian calls a rejection of lamentation in the anonymous Itinerarium Peregrinorum et Gesta Regis Ricardi (Regarding the itinerary of the pilgrims and the deeds of king Richard). Because the Third Crusade failed to capture Jerusalem, the Itinerarium Peregrinorum rejects lamentation, instead reverting to earlier Christian attitudes of the earthly Jerusalem as inferior to the heavenly city. The text connects the physical city to a Judaic past and an Arabo-Islamic present under Ṣalāḥ al-Dīn. It further depicts Richard's goal as fulfilling a vow of pilgrimage rather than an attempt to capture Jerusalem. Having fulfilled his vow and led others to the city, Richard, in contrast to the narratives following the capture in 1099 CE, does not need to linger in the earthly Jerusalem. Boyadjian closes by stating “Lamentations in the ancient world were political, and they are the same in the medieval Mediterranean world. They allow each of the ethnoreligious traditions to negotiate its position with its own monotheistic God” (164). Boyadjian convincingly demonstrates how various ethnoreligious groups in the Mediterranean could draw on common literary motifs to respond to local political situations.The City Lament is a valuable contribution not only to the field of medieval Mediterranean studies, but to the study of cross-cultural contact in the Middle Ages more broadly. By framing its argument in a Mediterranean, rather than Crusade, model, it avoids centering the Western European perspective at the expense of the other ethnoreligious groups present in and around Jerusalem. The book also treats Arabic and Armenian texts on their own terms rather than considering them in a decontextualized manner to supplement the Crusading accounts of the Latin West. Moreover, the book is organized clearly, and all the material is carefully contextualized and historically situated. Signposting throughout every chapter makes it easy to follow the argument, though in a book this lean, the signposting can feel a bit repetitive at times. Still, anyone interested in the medieval Mediterranean or traditions of lamentations would do well to read The City Lament.