Readers of Antiquity will, I hope, excuse me for opening this editorial with yet another reference to Stonehenge. From the very first issue back in March 1927, a Stonehenge vignette has been the Antiquity logo, and Stonehenge also featured in the original editorial and within the contents of the journal itself. Colonel Hawley had completed his extensive excavations only the year before, new work was under way at neighbouring Woodhenge (Antiquity 1: 92–95) and attention was turning to its neglected but much larger neighbour, Durrington Walls (Antiquity 3: 49–59). Antiquity was founded four years too late, however, to report the news that the sources of the famous bluestones had at last been found.

In this latest contribution to our ‘Archaeological Futures’ series, Julian Thomas reflects on the current state of Western archaeological theory and how it is probably going to develop over the next few years. Archaeological theory has not ossified in the period since the processual/post-processual exchanges. The closer integration of archaeological thought with philosophical debate in the human sciences has gradually given rise to a theoretical landscape that would have been unrecognisable 30 years ago, wherein ‘new materialisms’ figure significantly.

For over a century, the landscape of Angkor Wat and its surrounding area have been the focus of archaeological study. These studies have been constrained substantially, however, by a lack of chronological resolution in the features of the landscape and the difficulty of dating elements of the cultural assemblage. Recently obtained LiDAR data have transformed understanding of the Angkor Wat complex, enabling archaeologists to map terrain usually obscured by dense and protected vegetation. The results have informed targeted ground-based research, demonstrated previously unknown relationships between elements of the site, shown that the complex is much more extensive than previously thought and revealed a massive, unique and unknown structure.

Considerable attention has been devoted to the architecture and art history of Cambodia's Angkor Wat temple in the last century. There has, however, been little research on the functions and internal organisation of the large rectangular enclosure surrounding the temple. Such enclosures have long been assumed to have been sacred precincts, or perhaps ‘temple-cities’: work exploring the archaeological patterning for habitation within them has been limited. The results of LiDAR survey and excavation have now revealed evidence for low-density residential occupation in these areas, possibly for those servicing the temple. Recent excavations within the enclosure challenge our traditional understanding of the social hierarchy of the Angkor Wat community and show that the temple precinct, bounded by moat and wall, may not have been exclusively the preserve of the wealthy or the priestly elite.

Famous for its role as a Vishnuite temple during the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, Angkor Wat's subsequent fate has attracted less interest. Traces of modifications to the outer walls of the complex may, however, hold the key to understanding its role during its later phases. Here, holes in the masonry and structural changes to the substantial walls are investigated to demonstrate how wooden structures with a defensive role were built to protect the site sometime between the late thirteenth and early seventeenth centuries. The results reveal how Angkor Wat may have made its last attempt at defence.

Archaeology has wandered into exciting but daunting territory. It faces floods of new evidence about the human past that are largely digital, frequently spatial, increasingly open and often remotely sensed. The resulting terrain is littered, both with data that are wholly new and data that were long known about but previously considered junk. This paper offers an overview of this diluvian information landscape and aims to foster debate about its wider disciplinary impact. In particular, I would argue that its consequences: a) go well beyond the raw challenges of digital data archiving or manipulation and should reconfigure our analytical agendas; b) can legitimately be read for both utopian and dystopian disciplinary futures; and c) re-expose some enduring tensions between archaeological empiricism, comparison and theory-building.

Few human remains from the distant past have achieved the public visibility and notoriety of Kennewick Man (the Ancient One). Since his discovery in July 1996 in the state of Washington, he has appeared on one of America's best-known television news programmes, 60 Minutes. He has been on the cover of Time magazine and in the pages of People, Newsweek and The New York Times. He has been the subject of popular press books (Downey 2000; Thomas 2000; Chatters 2001), and for many years running there were almost annual updates on his whereabouts and status in Science (some 30 in the decade following his discovery). That is saying nothing of the scholarly notice and debate he has drawn (e.g. Swedlund & Anderson 1999; Owsley & Jantz 2001; Steele & Powell 2002; Watkins 2004; Burke et al. 2008), including a recently issued tome marking the culmination of almost a decade of study (Owsley & Jantz 2014a).

Zooarchaeology, once largely confined to questions of subsistence and production strategies, has recently devoted much more attention to the social roles of animals in the past. Responding (belatedly) to trends in archaeological theory, on the one hand, and the growth of interdisciplinary animal studies, on the other, zooarchaeologists are now using animal remains to address a broader range of questions that are of interest to archaeologists and others (e.g. Gifford-Gonzalez 2007; Oma 2010; Hill 2013). The three books here exemplify this development, all using zooarchaeological data to explore the varied roles of animals in (mainly) complex societies. Each ranges widely and demonstrates the centrality of animals in the human world, and, therefore, their great potential to illuminate the workings of ancient societies. Each also integrates zooarchaeological data with many other sources of information to create a whole much greater than any of the parts. There is a little overlap in authorship, with a chapter by Sykes in Animals and inequality in the ancient world and contributions by Michael MacKinnon in both edited volumes. These common threads aside, they are quite different books, with different goals and audiences.

The work of North American archaeologists in Jordan has, for more than a century, been directed by the quest for a particular desired past, namely that of the history of Israel and its neighbours, such as the Ammonites, Moabites and Edomites. The volumes under review here continue this tradition. But, more significantly, they also demonstrate the current efforts by these researchers to bring archaeology out of its provincial past in the heartland of biblical archaeology and towards an engagement with contemporary issues in anthropological archaeology and, less explicitly perhaps, global history. One volume, New insights into the Iron Age archaeology of Edom, reports on the results of a single major research initiative, the Edom Lowlands Regional Archaeology Project (ELRAP); the other, Southern Transjordan Edomite Plateau and the Dead Sea Rift Valley to the west, synthesises a number of smaller survey projects directed by Burton MacDonald over the past three decades.

Red-figure pottery first achieved prominence in the modern world through antiquarianism and the collection of souvenirs on the Grand Tour. This fundamentally shaped the scholarship of this class of pottery. Vases were valued for their completeness, their iconography—scenes depicting Greek myth and literature being particularly prized—and their aesthetic qualities. Famous private collections were formed, many of which subsequently entered the world's great museums. Less value was placed upon the vessels as archaeological objects. The contexts in which they were found, their associations with other objects and their roles in ancient society were given little consideration. The pursuit of intact vases led to a focus on cemeteries, and many discoveries were, and indeed continue to be, the result of looting. Thus, most museum collections are dominated by vessels without proper provenance. Moreover, collections are skewed towards funerary and, to a lesser extent, sanctuary evidence, and away from material used in domestic contexts. The importance of iconography and aesthetics means that museums tend to display the most varied and beautiful vessels, ignoring much of the output of ancient workshops.

Maya archaeology is flourishing; across three millennia, four countries and an impressive range of intellectual and practical approaches, the eight books under review here make that point well. One is the ninth edition of a deservedly successful book for a general readership, one the catalogue of the first Maya exhibition to be held in Britain in nearly half a century. A further volume deals with sites in the northern Maya lowlands of the Yucatan Peninsula, another with those in the eastern lowlands, the former British colony of Belize. Two are site-specific: the major city of El Perú-Waka’ in the southern lowland Maya heartland of El Petén, Guatemala, and the idiosyncratic élite centre of Cacaxtla in central highland Mexico where Maya influence on the famous murals is both striking and puzzling. Finally, two have a scientific bent: collections of papers on bioarchaeology/population studies and archaeoastronomy respectively. All draw their evidence, and their illustrations, largely from the Classic Period (AD 250–900), although there are forays into both the Preclassic (1200 BC–AD 250) and Postclassic (AD 900–1500+).