This substantial, original book makes significant contributions to our understanding of the architectural design process in early modern Rome. Readers hoping for a standard monograph on the Villa Madama, Raphael's famously ambitious, unfinished villa on Monte Mario for Pope Leo X de’ Medici and his nephew Giulio de’ Medici, might be disappointed. Elet does not seek to resolve longstanding, perhaps unanswerable questions regarding aspects of its authorship, construction, form, and decorative program. In fact, the Villa Madama is not really the main protagonist of the book—nor, for that matter, is Raphael. Rather, that role is played by one Francesco Sperulo, a little-known humanist in the circle of the Medici papal court who penned a poem on the villa as it was in progress.

Sperulo's text has been dismissed by previous scholars (most notably John Shearman) as formulaic panegyric, but Elet effectively repositions it as a key work for understanding the genesis of the villa, a process in which humanists were active participants, rather than passive commentators. Elet's goal is not to elevate a previously marginal figure to the rank of hero-creator but, rather, to redefine the nature of architectural invention as a collaborative and dialogic process, one in which texts like Sperulo's and planning were mutually informative. Fundamental to Elet's study is her prioritization of process over product, and her concept of invention as a collective endeavor, as opposed to the pursuit of a single genius. Elet's focus on the implications of Sperulo's poem for architectural culture in High Renaissance Rome sets her book apart from another recent publication, covering some of the same material, that appeared while hers was in production: Paul Gwynne's Patterns of Patronage in Renaissance Rome: Francesco Sperulo: Poet, Prelate, Soldier, Spy (2 vols., Oxford: Peter Lang, 2015).

Elet's book consists of six chapters, bracketed by an introduction and conclusion, as well as three appendixes containing a translation and commentary of Sperulo's text by Nicoletta Marcelli; an investigation of the presentation manuscript in which it is preserved; and a transcription of a shorter work by the same author. The first chapter sets the stage, outlining the place of the villa project in the cultural context of early sixteenth-century Rome, where the revival of the lost city was an obsession shared by scholars, artists, architects, and patrons. Chapters 2, 3, and 4 address Sperulo and others who wrote about the Medici villa—situating them in a long, rich tradition of villa panegyric; providing a close reading and analysis of Sperulo's text, which is unusual for being proleptic (envisioning the villa as finished, with a particular focus on the disposition of sculpture); and, finally, recognizing Sperulo's text as an example of a prescriptive genre she terms “hortatory ekphrasis” and analyzing Sperulo's actual agency in shaping plans for the villa. In chapter 4, Elet also introduces perhaps her most memorable idea, the notion of the “construction-site convivium”—basically, a somewhat adversarial, if highly productive, Renaissance poetry slam cum brainstorming session and think tank. It is, in short, a new and exciting proposal for how part of the early design process unfolded.

In chapter 5, Elet turns to the villa itself, outlining what she terms “conceptual metastructures”—layers of literary, spatio-topographical, archeological, and iconographic symbolism that writers and others projected onto the villa, all reflecting the representational desires of its Medici patrons, and of the papacy. Finally, chapter 6, “Dynamic Design,” does turn back to Raphael as a mastermind—not the lone creative genius variety, but more the master planner, harmonizing all the literary and artistic talent that was circling in his orbit to produce the most fruitful creative atmosphere.

Elet paints an evocative, holistic picture of the complex genesis of this most complex villa. To that end, she moves effortlessly across traditional disciplinary boundaries, deftly interweaving different modes of analysis and a profound familiarity with myriad sources, primary and secondary. In her book, the Villa Madama—not as a built (or unbuilt) structure but, rather, as a potentiality and catalyst for invention—becomes a laboratory for new approaches to design, on the order of the project for St. Peter's or the Vatican Stanze. Architecture emerges as a flexible field, where technical expertise interacted with other branches of knowledge in a dynamic, collective enterprise. The book's production value matches the quality of its concept and writing, with many well-chosen illustrations that evoke both the villa and the ideas in circulation around it quite nicely.