Strange hybrid and liminal creatures populate the pages of the book of Revelation but only some are called monsters. Heather Macumber challenges traditional binary descriptors of good and evil to argue that all cosmic beings are monstrous, whether they originate in heaven or the abyss.

Monster Studies is a rising academic topic. Despite hesitancy at first, the subject is now examined by scholars of various academic interests and backgrounds. However, the dominant monster investigations are from the post-1900s. This volume focuses on Premodern monsters. The purpose of this volume is to examine various monsters from diverse cultures in order to indicate how each monstrous discourse derives from their mythology’s socio-cultural context. The volume examines several Monsters within their socio-cultural matrix. This includes a variety of monstrosities from diverse cultures and periods. Namely, the examined creatures, or perceived creatures, stem from the Hebrew Bible, the New Testament (Pauline epistles), Reformation England, the Japanese Noh play Dōjōji, Yamauba Myths, and Yōkai Relics from early modern Japanese Buddhism.

While feminist interpretations of the Book of Revelation often focus on the book’s use of feminine archetypes—mother, bride, and prostitute, this commentary explores how gender, sexuality, and other feminist concerns permeate the book in its entirety. By calling audience members to become victors, Revelation’s author, John, commends to them an identity that flows between masculine and feminine and challenges ancient gender norms. This identity befits an audience who follow the Lamb, a genderqueer savior, wherever he goes. In this commentary, Lynn R. Huber situates Revelation and its earliest audiences in the overlapping worlds of ancient Asia Minor (modern Turkey) and first-century Judaism. She also examines how interpreters from different generations living within other worlds have found meaning in this image-rich and meaning-full book.

Ryan J. Stark surveys the classic monsters in great literature and film, television, the Bible, and, perhaps unexpectedly, the world in which we live. Monsterdom is real, Stark observes, but often hidden beneath the concealment spell of modern secular thought. This guidebook aims to break that spell, and, if so, to confirm once more a world that brims with high strangeness, or what Christian philosophers have always called "reality." The book appeals to those who study the paranormal dimensions of religion and horror, broadly imagined. The clergy will also find it helpful, as will players of monster-riddled video games.

The Walls of Babylon is a radically revisionist reading of the Revelation to John, offering startling insights into the historical roots of Gnosticism, the social dynamics of early Christianity, and the shattering impact of apocalyptic eschatology. Based on a careful analysis of the text, David Arthur argues that the motivating circumstance for Revelation was provided not by external Roman oppression but by a fierce internal dispute between gnostic and proto-orthodox factions within the early church. In the ensuing controversy, John did not side with ecclesiastical officials, as might be expected, but instead took up the cause of the persecuted outcasts. Following the precedent of the classical prophets, he speaks as a champion for the downtrodden and dispossessed––represented, for him, by the gnostic heretics. The book he has left us presents a fiery symbolic rebuke of proto-orthodox Christianity, and by extension, challenges normative religious paradigms at every level of belief and praxis.

Comparing the verbal images of the book of Revelation to the visual rhetoric and images of Asia Minor, Andrew R. Guffey argues that Revelation is to be "seen" and not just read. By engaging Revelation as a visual text, Guffey reinserts it into the visual culture of early Christianity.

In an effort to demonstrate the (im)practicalities of John's command for withdrawal (18:4), this book reconstructs the marble economy of Roman Ephesus and reads Revelation through the daily lives of its workers. It concludes that John's call for zero cultural participation is utterly devastating for its workers.