The current large number of books published in anthropology, as in other categories of knowledge, is simultaneously exhilarating and depressing: exhilarating because of the mind-boggling acceleration of information; depressing because the passionate reader of anthropology inevitably feels a bit like Sisyphus facing an endless array of worthwhile texts, not to mention an equal number of useless ones. This sense of being overwhelmed, however, evaporates immediately when one has the rare and precious pleasure of encountering a book like this one. The anthropological reader struggling to prioritize the dizzying number of potential reads should place Richardson’s book at the top of the list.

On the most obvious level, Richardson’s Being-in-Christ is a highly perceptive comparison of two Christianities as constructed and lived in by hombres de carne y hueso, people of flesh and bone, and observed by Richardson over a lifetime of work in Spanish America and the American South. In a work full of rich ethnographic detail and insight, Richardson focuses on the contrasting experiential creation of Jesus from his depictions in church architecture, religious material settings, music, liturgical orders, sermons, words, and pilgrimages, and he constantly invites the reader to peel away layer after layer of empathetic depth. Through descriptive detail and insightful analysis, Richardson enables the reader to experience the “Christ of the Touch” of the cathedral in Nueva Esperanza, Colombia, and the “Christ of the Word” of the Southern Baptist church in Mt. Hope, Louisiana. He brings to life the significant contrasts between the living creation of the Jesus of suffering in Latin America and the Jesus of resurrection among Southern Baptists. In the end, the differential constructions of “being-in-Christ” serve the same inevitable and noble struggle of humans everywhere: to put death in its place.

Richardson’s account, however, lives in a multiplicity of levels and has significance for readers interested in postmodernism, textual construction, and philosophical anthropology. He resurrects an approach reminiscent of the philosophical anthropology of bygone days, probing deep questions of human nature and the one question that both permeates and transcends all others: what to do about death? Drawing on ideas from the likes of Ernest Becker, Jacques Derrida, Martin Heidegger, Jean-Paul Sartre, and the ever-present Hank Williams, Richardson constructs an amazingly easy-to-understand portrayal of what it means to be human. One may disagree with portions of that construction, summarized by Heidegger’s notion of “being-in-the-world,” but Richardson presents his ideas with clarity, precision, and occasional humor. In addition, Richardson has created a delightful text, a unique experiment in writing. Those who are familiar with his other work will not be disappointed; those who are not will be introduced to a great writer. For example, he actively invites readers into the text by referring to us as you and by explicitly recognizing through explicit textual conversations between the I of the author and the you of the reader that the text is a joint production, not just written but actively read. His writing gives the sense that the text is still very much alive while never sacrificing substance and rich ethnographic detail for style.

In the midst of these myriad levels is something even more important. In the end, this volume is a highly personal excursion into fundamental existential questions. The text begins with the tragic death of Richardson’s mother and ends with the death of his distant father, folding Richardson’s own being-in-the-world into his anthropological work. Although the discussion never once dwells on the personal, never once appears self-indulgent, the personal is nevertheless there, profoundly and deeply. Whereas some may find this an unwelcome intrusion into an already original and provocative book, others will be able to see and admire that Richardson’s anthropology is not just a discipline; it is his life. Many years ago, Jules Henry wrote in his introduction to Jungle People that anthropologists avoid the fundamental existential questions in the lives of the people they study because to do so would require them to confront those painful questions themselves. Not Richardson. In the final analysis, Richardson not only leads readers through the tragic and noble poems of the Other but he has also created a text through which we are invited to confront the fire and frost of our own existence.

Thanks, Miles. And, as always, thanks, Hank.