Richelieu's army: war government and society in France, 1624–1642. By David Parrott. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001. Pp. xxiv+599. ISBN 0-521-79209-6. £65.00.

The dynastic state and the army under Louis XIV: royal service and private interest, 1661–1701. By Guy Rowlands. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002. Pp. xxiv+404. ISBN 0-521-64124-1. £55.00.

The French army, 1750–1820: careers, talent, merit. By Rafe Blaufarb. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2002. Pp. xii+227. ISBN 0-7190-6262-4. £45.00.

The people in arms: military myth and national mobilization since the French Revolution. Edited by Daniel Moran and Arthur Waldron. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003. Pp. xi+268. ISBN 0-521-81432. £50.00.

From revolutionaries to citizens: antimilitarism in France, 1870–1914. By Paul B. Miller. Durham, NC, and London: Duke University Press, 2002. Pp. xiii+277. ISBN 0-8223-2766-X. £13.95.

Although all the books under review are military histories, international conflict is not their central concern. They are not primarily campaign histories, nor studies of strategic or tactical innovations, nor biographies of great commanders. If they help to answer the military historian's traditional question – how is military might created and used on the battlefield – then they do so indirectly, through an exploration of how the state marshalled its resources for war, particularly in terms of manpower. This is not just a question of emphasis, or of filling in gaps in the historiography; these books mount a sustained critique on the explanatory models favoured by military historians. Military history, David Parrott suggests, too readily falls into a ‘whiggish trap’: a series of clear-sighted war leaders grasp the potential of technology in achieving the state's foreign policy objectives; technological shifts drive changes in the size and organization of armies, and consequently in the development of the state. And thus was the modern world of large, complex, disciplined organizations made. In contrast, we are offered here a selection of error-prone war leaders, constrained at every turn by the social, political, and financial realities of their day, who were intent not on ‘progress’ but on manipulating the system of which they themselves were a part, and as much for their own ends as for those of the state they served.