For the past eight years, Routledge have been publishing multi-volume compendia, which they refer to as ‘Major Works’. These compendia are included in a number of series that address various subjects or topics, series that are described as ‘Critical Concepts in’, for example, international relations, Islamic studies or religious studies. The number of compendia published in the last three or four years has grown exponentially and the two ‘Major Works’ under review here are recent additions to that growth. Priced as they are, out of the range of most private individuals, it is clear that the primary markets that have been identified and targeted are university and other research libraries. At a time of savage cuts in most library budgets, and, indeed, with the responsibilities that more generally accompany the spending of public funds, it is clear that these ‘Major Works’ need to justify the substantial investment that will invariably have to be made in them. To put this into some perspective, if the library of the university at which I am employed (a leading UK research-led and intensive Russell Group institution with a, relatively speaking, generous library budget) was to purchase both the collections under review, it would have spent about 6 per cent of the law library's annual ‘book budget’.

So, for this reviewer at least, the first two questions are: what is the purpose of these ‘Major Works’ and do they represent a justifiable cost? Routledge, in its brochures and on its website, states that these compendia are ‘edited and introduced by leading experts in the field’ and that they are ‘designed to meet today's research, reference, and teaching needs. These “mini libraries” bring together canonical and cutting-edge scholarship to provide users with historical context, as well as a thorough overview of current issues and debates.’ Thus, the purpose is to cover all possible user needs and to provide a handy port of call for them. Other publishers have identified a related marketplace already. Dartmouth/Ashgate have for many years been publishing their ‘Library of Essays’, books where a number of previously published articles and essays are collected together with an introductory chapter by the editor. These tend to run to about 800 or so pages and usually cost around £180 (US$270). Oxford University Press has been doing something vaguely similar, investing time and money in commissioning large works for its ‘Oxford Commentaries’. These, however, are original works, written by distinguished names and comprehensively covering a specific topic. The commentary on the UN Torture Convention, for example, runs to 1,680 pages in one large volume – very similar in overall length to the compendia under review (each of which consists of four hardbound volumes) – and costs £135 (US$180), less than a quarter of the Routledge compendia.

Cost alone does not tell us the entire story. In essence, the question as to whether the content justifies the cost is to some extent unfair on the editors, as they do not set the price. So, leaving that question on one side, have they succeeded in compiling a ‘mini-library’?

Starting with Gavin Picken's Islamic Law, my first observation is that the book is part of the series ‘Critical Concepts in Islamic Studies’. That tells the lawyers among the readers of this review quite a lot, as it is not part of the series ‘Critical Concepts of Law’, where the titles include International Law (edited by J Weiler and A Nissel), Feminist Legal Studies (edited by J Conaghan) and Intellectual Property Rights (edited by D Vaver). For someone looking through a legal prism, would it really be possible to compile a compendium on a legal tradition or traditions that is ‘designed to meet today's research, reference, and teaching needs’? Could one really put together such a collection on, say, the common law or civil law? Personally, I doubt it: what should be included, what excluded, and is Islamic law really that different from other legal traditions? From a legal perspective, I would suggest the answer to the last of these questions is ‘no’. From an ‘Islamic Studies’ perspective, it is perhaps different. Law is just one of the many considerations that form a part of the whole, and thus it is possible to put together a compendium such as this, where the developments and challenges facing the faith as a polity are mirrored in or due to the law. Thus, where politics and law are intertwined, and where developments in one sphere – such as the establishment and expansion of empire, the confrontation with and ultimately subjugation to European colonial rule, and political and religious ‘reawakening’ – are reflected in the other, this can be presented in a collection. Whether this is satisfactory or not, depends entirely on the reader. Each of the four volumes deals with a distinct theme. Volume I cover the ‘Origin and sources’ of Islamic Law, volume II the ‘Genesis of legal theory and schools of law’, volume III the ‘Consolidation and stagnation’ of Islamic law, and volume IV ‘Islamic law in the modern world’.

For a lawyer with an interest or expertise in Islamic law, there are obvious and major gaps in the works presented in these volumes, and the compendium does not provide a resource that can be fully exploited for the purposes of teaching, reference and research. Taking volume IV as an example, this deals with three themes: ‘Islamic law and the state’ (four articles), the ‘Reconstruction of tradition’ (ten articles) and the ‘Study of Islamic law in the West’ (two articles). Islamic law (whatever that is, an issue not addressed) and its relationship with the state is a massively complex and difficult issue. Can it adequately be summed up in four chapters? How has Islam been used over time; what is its exact relationship with the state historically and in contemporary society; what was/is the role of Islam in empire-building; what was the role that Islam played in independence movements so as to challenge colonialism and what consequences does this have in modern Muslim and other states in different parts of the world; what is the ability of ‘Islam’ to regulate or at least play a role in the regulation of modern states? These are just some examples of the issues that could be tackled in such a section, and each could stretch to several articles to be addressed adequately. At best, therefore, the essays presented in some sections provide a taster of what is out there in the literature.

For an Islamic studies scholar, on the other hand (to the extent that such scholars and ‘Islamic lawyers’ are mutually exclusive), the collection offers a fascinating insight into the evolution of the law and some of the challenges both that it poses and that it has faced. It does therefore provide a resource that can be more usefully employed for the various purposes for which it is intended. The fact that a collection on Islamic law has been compiled for those interested in it as a part of a wider examination of Islam reflects the broader themes and sweep of the work presented. Obsession with minutiae is more the preserve of law than of other disciplines. For those coming at the issue from a non-legal perspective, therefore, there is much of value here and the editor has admirably set about addressing a formidable challenge and should be warmly congratulated for it.

Nazila Ghanea's collection in some senses reflects the same sort of tensions between balancing perspective, readership and usage as outlined above. It is published in the series ‘Critical Concepts in Religious Studies’ and draws from literature in a number of fields, such as political science, sociology, theology and religious studies. Most of the literature presented, however, is written by lawyers or is published in law journals, so the perspective is clear. Each of the four volumes deals with a different theme: volume I covers ‘Why protect freedom of religion and belief and models for the protection of freedom of religion or belief?’, volume II ‘Is freedom of religion or belief an individual or collective human right?’, volume III ‘Conflict of rights and freedom of religion or belief’ and volume IV ‘International standards, persecution and ways forward’.

There are topics that I would have liked to have seen addressed in more detail. For example, a key issue in debates about freedom of religion and belief is how such freedoms are to be protected effectively, since there is no UN ‘Religious Rights Convention’; there is some published work on the topic, perhaps not very satisfactory, but it does address the issue. But this is a minor grumble. Editors of such collections have balances to strike and competing demands placed on them by publishers. Overall, the materials here provide an outstanding collection addressing all of the main issues in the relationship between religion and human rights. I sincerely believe that it would be difficult for anyone to put together a better, more usable collection; the careful and considered selection of material is a considerable achievement.

In academic terms, therefore, both collections contain a rich mix of material and are highly usable. A reviewer cannot escape his or her own biases and I can certainly see myself dipping more into Dr Ghanea's collection, but that should not detract from the quality of the compendium compiled by Dr Picken. If price were no consideration, both would be valuable additions to a research library. This then brings us back to the initial question: are these collections worth the price that has been set? That is for the potential purchaser, whether an individual or institution, to consider. There are obvious copyright issues, and the related costs involved in putting together such collections, and that must be reflected in the price set. Personally, if these collections were sold as a single hardback volume for a quarter of the price, I would snap up one and possibly both. As it stands, I will try to persuade our library to purchase one collection this year and do the same again in the next financial year. The materials in both collections deserve to be widely used.