At first sight this book does not look very significant. The cover is plain, and the book itself is rather small. It contains only eleven short articles (in German with English abstracts), and is not particularly well illustrated (there are illustrations, but they are not numbered). It is then quite unlike the books that Anglophone archaeologists with a limited knowledge of German (such as this reviewer) are apt to mine for information, such as the many volumes in the Prähistorische Bronzefunde series. The most important thing about this book (especially from an Anglophone perspective) is that it exists at all. As hinted by its English title and German sub-title, it (and others in the same series) represents a profound shift in the centre of gravity of both archaeological theory and all theory relating to material culture. Let me explain by providing some background.

‘Material culture studies’ emerged in the 1980s and 1990s, first at the University of Cambridge and then at University College London. Its pioneers (Daniel Miller, Henrietta Moore) undertook research at the interface of archaeology and ethnography (‘ethnoarchaeology’), work which then manifested itself as a ‘return to materiality’ within anthropology (broadly conceived). This ‘material turn’ then had a profound influence on Anglophone archaeology, particularly in Britain, at a time when some British prehistorians (notably Chris Tilley) were beginning to turn to German phenomenology (particularly Martin Heidegger) for inspiration. During this period ‘theory’ of any kind within any field that ‘material culture studies’ might affect had been sidelined in Germany. Heinrich Härke (as a prehistorian or Anglo-Saxon scholar) had been more or less forced to look for work in the UK; and Herbert Hoffmann (as a classical archaeologist), although the first archaeologist outside France to make systematic use of structuralist ideas, remained isolated in his Seminar für klassische Archäologie at the University of Hamburg.

Since then, and especially since the turn of the millennium, things have changed (see also Hofmann & Stockhammer, Reference Hofmann and Stockhammer2017). This book represents the proceedings of a small conference held at the I.G. Farben building in the University of Frankfurt in 2013. The conference is one of a series organised by the Research Training Group in material culture studies that Hans Peter Hahn (one of the co-editors) has set up, with funding from the federal German government. These training groups (and there are others) have been specifically set up to be inter-disciplinary: in the case of this book, these disciplines include not only ethnography and prehistory but other things which ‘material culture studies’ might embrace (including a brief history of synthetic rubber by Jens Soegnten). Themes and issues that should be familiar to any regular attender of TAG conferences (‘the material turn’; ontology; materiality) crop up in several papers.

After a brief preface, Hans Peter Hahn's introductory essay (‘Lost in Things: Eine kritische Perspektive auf Konzepte materieller Kultur’ (‘Lost in Things: A Critical Perspective on the Concept of Material Culture’; chapters’ titles in English are all author's translations)) argues (counter-intuitively, given that it was he who introduced ‘material culture studies’ into Germany) that we tend to exaggerate the importance of material culture. Most material culture is just stuff (Zeuge) and not cultural in any strong sense at all. His co-editor, Philipp Stockhammer (an expert on the Mediterranean Bronze Age, and strong supporter of the ‘practice turn’ in archaeology) takes a very different tack (‘Archäologie und Materialität’ (‘Archaeology and Materiality’)). He erects a three-fold system for understanding not only the agency (Handlungsmacht) but also the ‘effectancy’ (Wirkungsmacht) of objects. Hahn's and Stockhammer's pieces serve as an introduction to the volume, whose aims include re-connecting ‘material culture studies’ with older currents of thought in Germany.

Jens Soegnten (‘Ein deutscher Stoff: Synthesekautschuk in Deutschland, 1909–2009’ (‘A German Material: Synthetic Rubber in Germany, 1909‒2009’)) goes in a very different direction, arguing that synthetic rubber (in whose development I.G. Farben played a major role), originally had very positive overtones. Germany had no colonies and so no rubber plantations. Not only was German synthetic rubber a source of national pride, it was produced in opposition to the ‘Blutgummi’ (Blood Rubber) of Belgian, Dutch, and British colonial exploitation; an association later marred by its production in Auschwitz. Martin Holbraad's contribution (‘Das “Wilde Denken” in Dingen: Ethnologie und Pragmatologie’ (‘The ‘Wild Thought’ in Things: Ethnology and Pragmatology’)) is a more direct comment on current anthropological debates. He looks at the use of powder (‘Powder is power’) in practices of divination in Cuba, and whether the ‘materiality’ of the powder used matters, concluding: ‘Kubanische Orakelmeister “glauben” nicht einfach, dass Puder ein Form der Macht ist, sondern sie definieren den Puder als Macht’ (‘Cuban oracle specialists do not just “believe” that powder is a form of power but define powder as power’) (p.73, author's translation). That ‘Stoff’ might be more than material is a theme of the next paper by Ludĕk Brož (‘Vom Himmel gefallen: Auf dem Weg zu einer symmetrischen Anthropologie der Raumfahrtindustrie’ (‘Fallen from the Sky: Towards a Symmetrical Anthropology of Space Travel Industry’)) which examines the impact of material culture that ‘falls from heaven’ onto the inhabitants of the Altai Republic within the Russian Federation. This region was one of the areas developed by the Soviet space programme; quite large ‘falls’ of rockets and satellites are regular events here. Together with the rockets there is a justified fear that the fuel (Geptil) might be a ghostly pollutant. Brož wonders whether these ghosts occupy quite the same ‘ontological category’ as the spirits apparently raised by the activities of archaeologists investigating the Pazyryk tombs.

The following two papers return us to more familiar themes. Þóra Pétursdóttir's contribution (‘Die Sorge für Verfallendes: Theoretisierung von materiellem’ (‘The Concern for Decay: Theorizing the Material’)) looks at abandoned (and ruined) herring factories off the Norwegian coast. She considers how ‘cultural heritage’ and its management should be re-assessed in the light of social memory. Arnica Kesseler (‘Von Gendern und Dingen: Überlegungen zum Verhältnis zweier Konzepte in der Archäologie’ (‘On Genders and Things: Thoughts on the Relationship between Two Concepts in Archaeology’)) returns us to the concept of gender, and how some categories of objects (such as spindle-whorls) are routinely (and thoughtlessly) gendered as ‘female’ in much archaeological discussion within European prehistory.

Alesya Krit's ‘ethnoarchaeological’ study of the reasons why British immigrants choose to restore ruined houses in Spanish villages is a little more unsettling for British readers (‘Die produktive Dimension einer fragmentierten Materialität: Zur Renovierung von im Zerfall begriffenen Häusern in Südostspanien’ (‘The Productive Dimension of a Fragmented Materiality: About the Renovation of Ruined Houses in South-eastern Spain’)). These reasons seem to relate to the fact that they are ruins, and that it is easier to ‘make a new life’ out of a ruin than something which has clear associations—since these new immigrants are profoundly uninterested in recent Spanish history, and so the past associations of the houses they have chosen to restore. It is not unsettling because this particular ethnographer is unsympathetic to her subjects. It is simply unsettling to have become part of the ‘ethnographic gaze’, where one's compatriots speak in terms that would not have been out of place in T.S. Eliot's The Waste Land (‘Hurry up please it's time’). Sebastian Schellhaas and Mario Schmidt (‘Verwunderung und Materialität in der ethnografischen Begegnung: Wenn Luo denken wir äßen “Maisbrei” und Ethnologen’ (‘Amazement and Materiality in the Ethnographic Encounter: When Luo Think We Would Eat “Corn Porridge” and Ethnologists’)) return us to ‘ontological’ issues, trying to explain how Luo concepts of what is and what is not edible seem to conflict with Western common sense. Bjørnar Olsen's piece (‘Die Abkehr vom Sinn? Wunder, Halldors Kipplaster und der Trugschluss der Interpretation’ (‘The Departure From Meaning? Wonder, Halldors Dump Truck, and the Fallacy of Interpretation’)) is a personal reflection on a part of his childhood in northern Norway. Echoing some of Hans Peter Hahn's concerns he dwells on an archaeologist's propensity to over-interpret, a tendency which (in replacing a sense of wonder, and of immediate aesthetic impression) might also alienate the researcher. Finally Jennifer Bagley's contribution (‘Werkzeug, Prestigemarker, Kultobjekt und Ausstellungsstück: neolithische Steinbeile und -äxte im Wandel der Zeit’ (‘Tool, Prestige Marker, Cult Object, and Exhibit: Neolithic Stone Celts and Axes Through Time’)) on how Neolithic stone celts have been re-used and re-interpreted in later ages (notably since the time of the elder Pliny as thunderbolts) returns us to more mainstream archaeological debates.

So this volume is a rich feast of views on material culture. In general I found the ethnographic contributions the more striking, though perhaps that is because these debates are just less familiar. And the setting of the conference could not have been more fitting for any general discussion of these issues, which move from material as ‘Stoff’ to ‘Zeuge’ (witness) to ‘Objekt’ (but never Kunst—Art). For materiality is embodied in the I.G. Farben building itself, whose materials (local limestone with clear fossil inclusions; curved plate glass; dappled marble and hardwood for the interior finishing) could not have been chosen with more care. I.G. Farben is of course (grimly) implicated in other things, and not only for its pioneering work in the field of synthetic rubber. It was this building that Eisenhower chose for his headquarters after the Allied victory in 1945, and it was in this building that another synthetic chemical—Zyklon B—was first developed. Like the ‘Geptil’ that falls onto the peoples of the Altai we are still haunted by these ghosts whose materiality is with us still.