Contributions

Daly’s book is valuable for its inclusivity and storytelling. It highlights classes of women often ignored in popular histories – the tavern-keepers, textile workers, midwives, and mystic laywomen – rather than focusing solely on famous queens or saints. This broad scope is one of its greatest strengths. For example, his coverage of the Beguines showcases how lay spirituality gave women agency, echoing Caroline Walker Bynum’s findings on female mysticism. By tracing a narrative from cloisters to kitchens, Daly underscores that medieval women – even peasants – shaped society as fieldworkers, healers and entrepreneurs. His use of concrete examples is effective: Catherine of Siena’s sufferings and visions come alive, and the saga of a Norman noblewoman or an anchoress vividly illustrates broader themes. Historiographically, Daly aligns with modern scholarship in refuting the myth of total female passivity. He shows that even in patriarchal systems, women found room for authority – a point backed up by sources. In his Viking article, Daly remarks that Norse creation myths gave women an equal cosmic role, contextualising why Viking-age women could divorce and own land. Likewise, his pilgrimage research notes that medieval queens often had to “concede” in prayer requests, highlighting constraints even on the powerful. Including such complexities lends depth: Daly does not simply romanticise medieval womanhood but illustrates the balance of empowerment and restriction.

Moreover, the book is highly reader-friendly. Daly’s narrative style is clear, engaging, and consistently accessible, making complex ideas easy to follow. He avoids academic jargon and explains terms clearly (e.g., he defines “anchoress” or “chatelaine” for lay readers). Its organisation by theme rather than strict chronology helps general audiences grasp the material. A novice can dip into any chapter and come away with a clear picture of that topic. The tone is generally enthusiastic about the subject, which makes the dense information more digestible. Importantly for a general-volume survey, Daly provides citations and suggestions for further reading. Daly’s use of sources also allows readers to pursue topics further, offering clear pathways for deeper exploration where particular themes invite it. This scholarly apparatus (bibliography and notes) is a boon for history buffs wanting more, even if the text itself remains narrative. In all, Women of the Middle Ages makes a strong contribution by filling a niche: it collects a wide array of women’s stories under one cover and makes them accessible.

Limitations

At the same time, the book has drawbacks. Its ambition is its own challenge: by trying to cover nearly a millennium of history across Europe, each topic can feel compressed. Some sections read more like sketches than in-depth analyses. For instance, Daly mentions the Beguines and anchoresses but does not fully explore the theological debates around them (cf. scholarly works by Hesselink or Bynum). The political history chapters similarly introduce many figures without unpacking their conflicts in detail. This breadth-over-depth approach means readers don’t get fully contextualised arguments about why women’s status changed over time. Critics might note that Daly’s viewpoint is broadly optimistic: while he acknowledges that “women could only seemingly undertake pilgrimage through the approval of men”, he does not systematically analyse how Church doctrines and feudal law constrained women’s rights. The book lightly touches on restrictions – divorce is rare, most official power passes to men – but these limitations are not critically examined.

In terms of style, some readers may find the narrative repetitive. The structure (religion → nobility → labour, etc.) is logical, but within each section, Daly often follows a formula: describe a category of women, then give 2–3 illustrative examples. This can become episodic. For example, chapters on working women often follow a pattern (“first farming, then brewing, then childbirth”). Daly is clearly aware that much of medieval history was recorded by male contemporaries, often sidelining women’s voices. While he works effectively to counter this imbalance, the sheer number of anecdotes occasionally dilutes the force of a central, sustained thesis. Relatedly, the book is very Eurocentric. Aside from the Norse chapters, it mostly surveys Western Christendom (with some Gaelic and Norman examples). Women in the Islamic world or Eastern Europe, for example, are outside its scope. Finally, the absence of in-text footnotes means the reader cannot easily verify claims on the spot (only endnotes are available). Specialist readers may lament the lack of explicit engagement with the latest academic debates.

Despite these issues, Women of the Middle Ages largely succeeds in its goal: to present a broad, balanced portrait of medieval women’s lives. Daly’s background in monastic and pilgrimage studies shows through, as he repeatedly balances stories of female initiative with evidence of patriarchal limits (for example, noting how even devout queens needed papal dispensation to visit cloisters). While not a substitute for detailed scholarly monographs, this book’s strengths in storytelling, research thoroughness, and range make it a valuable addition to public-facing history.