Little Kingdoms: An A-Z of Early Medieval Britain

Harvey’s greatest strength is his research and source use. He stands “atop a monumental pile of papers and books”—there is a bibliography and footnotes behind every chapter. For a book aimed at general readers, it is impressively scholarly. He cites old chronicles, law codes, maps, and archaeology alike, so that even a brief entry feels well-founded. One reviewer praises the “intensely researched” nature of the book, noting the extensive references and images in the back. Likewise, Amy McElroy finds that “the author has clearly done a huge amount of research and includes a detailed reference section at the back.” These apparatuses give the work credibility: each claim—from saint legends to excavated artefacts—is traceable. This means the book can even serve as a mini-encyclopedia: A.J. Sefton admits she first checked it by looking up places she knows. In sum, Harvey’s source handling is thorough and transparent, making the book a reliable resource.

There were undoubtedly more than seven kingdoms… Hiding in the gaps between these ‘seven kingdoms’ would have been innumerable regional identities and administrative districts…

Harvey’s approach is original and engaging. Focusing on “little kingdoms” is itself a fresh angle. Rather than rehashing the rise of kings, he zeroes in on marginal communities and local identities. The alphabetic format and narrative style are a creative frame – comparable to a travel guide. Even though chapters can be read out of order, Harvey uses this to “onboard” readers with complex ideas gradually. He openly admits that many ideas (and even the idea of what counts as a kingdom) are drawn from folklore or fragmentary sources. This honesty is a plus: readers learn which details are well attested versus speculative. In the Pecsaetan chapter, for example, he offers “no definitive answers” but clearly outlines the evidence and key arguments from archaeology and sources. Similarly, the chapter on the Welsh kingdom of Gwynedd acknowledges how much of its early story is legendary, yet ties those legends to tribal and imperial echoes. The result is an original tapestry that feels both academic and imaginative.

Despite these strengths, the book has some downsides. The very novelty of its format can be a double-edged sword. Alphabetising kingdoms is fun, but it means readers must piece together chronology themselves. As one reader notes, flipping around alphabetically felt “a little odd” until they read it straight through. Harvey tries to address this by introducing general themes up front, but the lack of a guiding timeline means the overall narrative of early Britain (shifting power, culture changes) is implicit rather than explicit. Casual readers might occasionally wonder how chapters link up. Moreover, brevity of entries can leave some hungry for more detail. Harvey admits he can only “cherry-pick the most interesting aspect” of each realm. This approach keeps chapters lively but sometimes sketchy: a minor kingdom’s full story might be only hinted at. For example, the chapter on Lindsey (in Lincolnshire) focuses on one tribal angle but hardly sketches the broader Mercian politics around it. In a few places, the text swings into educated guesswork (e.g., speculating on plague or population movements), which may feel tentative.

On the style front, Harvey is generally a clear and friendly writer. The prose avoids jargon, aiming at a lay audience. Reviewers note his tone is “friendly” and narrative, not dry (an “almanack-style” tone). He does sometimes inject personal asides or colourful adjectives (“toothy caverns”, “crooked spine of Hadrian’s Wall”), which keeps readers interested. A very scholarly historian might wish for a bit more restraint, but Harvey’s energy is part of the book’s charm. The layout – heavy on images and maps – also boosts engagement. In general, readability is high: paragraphs are short, and each chapter feels like a short story. In sum, the clarity and “storytelling” are definitely strengths, though they come at the cost of a central argument or thesis. The book is more mosaic than manifesto, which is fair to its premise but may leave the reader with a smorgasbord of facts instead of a single takeaway argument.