I find myself largely in agreement with the argument presented in Frieman's debate article (2024) on knowing and narrativity in archaeology, and I share the author's view of feminist epistemology as key to embracing the conditions of the discipline (see e.g. Pétursdóttir & Sørensen 2023; Sørensen et al. 2024). Here, I consider some of the perspectives that Frieman leaves slightly underexplored.

The interest that a ragpicker takes in rubbish and detritus, as described by Baudelaire and further developed by Benjamin (1999: 350), is not dissimilar to the archaeologist's concern with the remnants, the things left behind, abandoned. When filling the silences of the colonial archive, the archaeologist collects and catalogues everything that has been cast off, everything broken and discarded. Going through these jumbled leftovers, both archaeologists and ragpickers experience a deep intimacy with the objects they encounter: glass beads from a woven bracelet, a shell celt, textile remains of a hat, a ceramic cooking pot, a flint sceptre, an ivory brush handle, a wooden spoon, a bone needle, an iron sword, a rattle. In this way, archaeologists and ragpickers gather and collect other people's experience of textures, shapes, sounds, fear, traumas, joy, sadness and hopes.

Nestled at the eastern corner of the Mediterranean, the island of Cyprus is a popular locale for archaeological research by resident and foreigner alike despite its modest size. The roots of this popularity run deep; Cyprus can boast for capturing people's attention with its antiquities since the start of the nineteenth century (Clarke 1813, pp.165–97). Authored by veterans of Cypriot archaeology, each of these three books is a valuable addition to the ever-expanding scholarship that is the legacy of this colourful history of aesthetic/financial curiosity transformed into meticulous research. Additionally, these three publications stand out among the avalanche of archaeological research on Cyprus due to their shared links.

At a time when the Parthenon Sculptures refuse to go away (in every sense of the phrase) and uncatalogued items were allegedly found to have been sold off by a member of staff, The British Museum needs some good news. There must have been sighs of relief all round when their new exhibition in the (itself often controversial: Puffett 2023) BP Gallery, Legion: life in the Roman Army, opened to almost universal press acclaim (e.g. Clark 2024; Jones 2024); it runs from 1 February to 23 June 2024. However, some (perfectly valid) observations in her blog by a scholar qualified in the field triggered a ‘woke alarm’ in some less-qualified quarters (McGrath 2024). It was always likely to be a crowd pleaser, with something for every “exercitologist” (Bishop 2014: 24), whether amateur or professional. For those visitors who had cut their Roman military teeth on Graham Webster's seminal Roman Imperial Army (Webster 1969, 1979, 1985), it was going to have its work cut out to satisfy.

In her debate article, Frieman's (2024) reflections on the idea of unproof are a welcome and elegant addition to current debate on the nature of archaeological evidence, how we construct the stories we tell about the past, and the role of archaeology in the contemporary world. Frieman draws on both feminist and anarchist theory to argue that the value of archaeology is the way it allows us to grasp worlds different from our own and suggests that this can allow us to pre-figure better future worlds. This chimes closely with other recent work on the subject (e.g. Barton 2021; Cipolla et al. 2024; Schofield 2024)—clearly, archaeologists are considering the radical potential of our own discipline to change the world.

‘The collapse c. 1200 BC’ in the Aegean and eastern Mediterranean—which saw the end of the Mycenaean kingdoms, the Hittite state and its empire and the kingdom of Ugarit—has intrigued archaeologists for decades. As Jesse Millek points out in Destruction and its impact, the idea of a swathe of near-synchronous destructions across the eastern Mediterranean is central to the narrative of the Late Bronze Age collapse: “destruction stands as the physical manifestation of the end of the Bronze Age” (p.6). Yet whether there was a single collapse marked by a widespread destruction horizon is up for debate. The two books reviewed here successfully reassess the simplistic and catastrophist characterisation of the end of the Late Bronze Age in the eastern Mediterranean and help provide a more nuanced picture.

There is a rich and diverse body of research dedicated to understanding the cultural and biological processes that led to plant domestication and the development of agriculture in both the Old and New Worlds. Work continues to refine and challenge proposed models for the process of plant domestication, the likely centres of origin and subsequent spread of plant crops and agricultural innovations. This research is taking place in the light of new archaeobotanical evidence and the development and application of novel scientific techniques. As such, publications that bring together new lines of research and evidence, and how these inform our current understanding of plant domestication and agriculture, are an important resource for both specialist and non-specialist audiences.

The reviewed volumes represent the past and future of triangulating human prehistory. Both works address the integration of the knowledge embedded in the Indo-European group of languages into the interpretation of archaeological and genetic data, but approach this very differently. By enlisting the expertise of scholars from the three different fields, with 22 contributions from more than 40 scholars from more than 10 different countries, The Indo-European puzzle revisited is both a seminal work and a resounding commentary on the, by its very nature, limited perspectives voiced by Jean-Paul Demoule as a sole archaeologist author of his book The Indo-Europeans. The title of the former is based on the subtitle of Colin Renfrew's Archaeology and language: the puzzle of Indo-European origins (1987), another archaeologist's foray into historical linguistics.

I am very grateful to Antiquity for asking me to read and write a review article of these two volumes. Together they provide an integrated picture of trends in recent years on the themes of mobility and ethnicity in late prehistoric and early historic Europe. Topics, chronology and regional focus are different, if not often opposed, in each book but the reader can easily catch the common ground for further reflection.

Many years ago, I taught a course at the University of Aberdeen on the ‘4As’ of anthropology, archaeology, art and architecture (Ingold 2013). As we had been discussing flint-knapping, I invited the master-knapper, John Lord, to give a demonstration. We watched in awe as he skilfully detached flakes from a flint nodule of irregular shape to reveal the classical, bifacial form of an Acheulean handaxe. Then it was our turn to use wooden or antler hammers to detach flakes from fragments of flint. After an hour or two, none of us had made any headway. What looked simple in practised hands would have required years to learn, not a single afternoon! Nevertheless, the workshop taught us an important lesson. As Bentley and O'Brien (2024) remind us, mastering the skills to make an Acheulean biface requires hundreds of hours of practice. The question is, why does it need so long? What is going on during these many hours?