In contrast to the well-known Palaeolithic archaeology of Iberia and its contribution to scholarly debates on the earliest Europeans, the later prehistory (c. 5600–400 BC) of the peninsula remains a relatively unknown subject for the wider world. The three recent volumes under review therefore provide the opportunity to outline current trends in research on the first farmers at the westernmost end of Europe and to assess what these contribute to wider understanding of the past. A common thread among the three volumes is that they are predominantly authored by local (Spanish and Portuguese) scholars but aimed at an international readership, addressing questions of global interest. They tackle essentially Iberian research issues, but some of these (e.g. monumental ditched enclosures, the emergence of unequal socio-political structures) are to be understood as pan-European phenomena.

These words, published in the pages of Antiquity more than 20 years ago, belie the dark depths into which Albanian archaeologists were plunged with the transition to democracy during 1991–1992. Despite the long bread queues that characterised Albanian life before the Iron Curtain fell, Albanian archaeologists engaged in missions across the country—nearly 50 in 1988. The charmed life of Albania's archaeologists until 1991 is easily explained. Between 1944 and 1985, the dictator Enver Hoxha invested in archaeology to secure an Illyrian myth for an unstable republic, which, in 1913, was carved out of the western Ottoman Empire. The first generation of communist archaeologists was trained in the Soviet Union; they in turn mentored subsequent generations. As a result, with the advent of democracy, almost no archaeologist had first-hand experience of Western European or American archaeology. The few who had engaged with Western Europe (Neritan Ceka, Aleksander Meksi, Genc Pollo) changed careers and entered politics (Hodges 2014). After the first elections, the 1990s, bearing the bitter scars of communism, were exceedingly confusing and practically complicated for Albania's archaeologists. And yet the Institute of Archaeology has tenaciously held its place in Albanian society, and, under the leadership of the adroit Muzafer Korkuti (Hodges & Bejko 2006), and now Luan Përzhita, there has been a steadying direction that can be readily detected in this encyclopaedic volume arising from a conference held during the centenary celebrations of the Republic of Albania.

The titles of these weighty tomes invite questions: the palace of whom? The kings of where? A palace when? Olivier Poisson, concluding the first volume, writes of the restoration programme of 1943–1960 that “le palais est resté, malgré le pari des restaurateurs de la décennie 1950, le souvenir un peu vide et abstrait d’une ‘monarchie oubliée et éphemère’” (p. 539). This ‘forgotten and ephemeral monarchy’ of Majorca, a scion of the kings of Aragon, ruled from 1270–1344. In 1276, the monarchy had made Perpignan the capital of the Kingdom of Majorca and began work on the ‘Palais des Rois de Majorque’. To posterity's good fortune, the final Majorcan monarch, James III (‘the Unfortunate’), left the ‘Lois palatines’ (Palatine Laws) of 1337 that provide key insights into the etiquette and even the significance of colour in the early fourteenth-century palace. Following the dispossession of James III in 1344, Perpignan came into the hands of the Aragonese monarchy until 1462. The Palace then passed into French ownership and was used as a barracks for three decades in the late fifteenth century. Following return to Spanish ownership in 1493, Emperor Charles V, Philip II and their successors made further modifications. The Palace finally came back into French hands in 1659 and was henceforth a barracks, graced by significant extension of the fortifications by Vauban. Under French military control, benign neglect preserved early architectural phases, a signal advantage for those subsequently involved in the restoration of the Palace. Following the fall of France in 1942 (and with Spain in fascist hands), the buildings were largely released from military use and handed to the local authorities of the Pyrénées Orientales. A programme of repair and restoration was established, and brought to fruition by the local socialist mayor, a former member of the Resistance, towards the end of the 1940s. The restored buildings were opened to the public in 1958.

If you are reading this instalment of NBC while eating a sandwich at your keyboard, you may conclude that we have lost touch with the ways in which people produced and consumed food in the past. The books under review here—on palaeoethnobotany and feasting—might encourage you to enjoy tomorrow's lunch in the more convivial atmosphere of the common room or canteen. Meanwhile, desk-diners who read on, be warned that we finish with a volume concerning the inevitable bodily by-products of all this eating and drinking, and some of the unpleasant organisms therein. Caveat cenator!