In "Fear: A Cultural History," Joanna Bourke takes on an absolutely massive task: exploring the ways that fears have manifest throughout history.
I think the best way to describe the book is through something of a 'Goldilocks' experience. When I first purchased it, my immediate reaction was weariness about the length (and likelihood of it remaining interesting throughout). Two hundred pages in, my perspective had shifted: it was much too /short/, glossing over massively important psychological questions because of just how big a topic 'fear' is. But, by the end, I had come around to its 'Goldilocks' status: actually, I think this book is just right.
Reading 'Fear' was a reminder of just how big a single topic can be. From phobias to every-present anxiety of terrorism; from literary fear to fears of cancer lurking within; Bourke weaves together a multitude of different perspectives on what fear is, how it has evolved, and how it affects our lives. In a sense, the book is 'Fear 101,' laying out a fascinating terrain that is inherently interdisciplinary and complex. Particularly well written were the chapters on social hysteria, civilians under attack, and terrorism - these segments did a really nice job of pulling back the curtain on the complex and intertwined kinds of fears that exist in our lives, and how historical events have morphed and changed them. I think these chapters were so effective, in part, because they were able to draw very clear cause-and-effect narratives (e.g., how 9/11 changed fear in America) that were a little more nebulous and less direct elsewhere in the book.
Indeed, if I needed to offer a critique of the book, it would be that: because fear is indeed so multidiciplinary (requiring cognitive science, psychology, history, sociology, etc to explain its causes and effects), a book that is a 'cultural history' of fear is necessarily limited. There were many points throughout where I craved more of the sociological or psychological 'why,' in addition to the historical 'why' that was being explored. And, there were times where the scoping felt a little narrow, focusing on very European and American experiences of fear, versus those in South America, Africa, or Asia.
However, I'm not persuaded that the first critique is actually a fair one. Rather, it's simply an acknowledgement that 'Fear: A Cultural History' really just needs to be part of a series alongside a variety of other disciplinary views on the study of fear and anxiety. And, in that sense, Bourke's contribution is masterful: it does exactly what it needs to do, providing a lay of the cultural history landscape of fear, identifying meadows and groves worthy of more in-depth exploration, and to serve as one of many maps to understand that place (alongside the sociological, psychological, anthropological, and ... maps of the fear landscape).
In short, it was an excellent volume. If you have an interest in fear, anxiety, and all things scary, it's well worth a read!