So many large format
coffee-table map books are written by map experts, map librarians or map historians.
They carefully select the maps based on a criteria that generally relates to some
cartographic measure of their worth. Betsy Mason and Greg Miller are not
cartographic experts, well, at least not by training, though they are fast
demonstrating a deep understanding of what makes great maps tick. Mason and Miller are
journalists, award-winning journalists in fact. More specifically they have a
background in science (earth science, geology, biological, behavioural, social
and neurological science!), and the reporting of science in some of the most
august publications and came to cartography via their excellent blog from Wired
which they launched in 2013. They now co-author the blog All Over the Map at
National Geographic. Is this background
on the authors at all relevant? Yes, because what they bring to their interest
in cartography is a fresh perspective. They aren’t burdened by having a list of
maps that have to go in their collection (you know the ones…we all know them).
They have chosen what they want to go in, and so their list is, in the main, a
fresh list and contains many maps you’re unlikely to have seen. Of course,
there’s some absolute classics such as Mount Everest (1988), published by
National Geographic. It appears early on but it’s a book published by National
Geographic and they would be remiss not to include such stunning work. But the
book goes far beyond the vaults of National Geographic and presents well-known maps side-by-side with lesser known examples. I’m pretty sure even
if they had a classic map in mind it’d not make the cut if they couldn’t find
something interesting and fresh to say about it.
The book is broadly
divided into nine sections that group the maps by theme: waterways; cities;
conflict and crisis; landscapes; economies; science; human experiences; worlds;
and art and imagination. Think of any map and you can probably position it in
one of these broad topics and it gives the book a pleasing structure. It makes
it non-linear and that allows a certain element of randomness when you turn the
page. Within each section we see both historical examples and contemporary
maps. Maps made by government, commercial companies and also individuals just
experimenting with some data. I found myself actually ignoring the groups and
just going page-to-page from one delightful map to another, sometimes flicking
and stopping as if you were thumbing through a pack of cards and stopping randomly. Each page is
different and captures the map in rich printed form but it’s the writing that
elevates this from just a collection of maps and their makers. Mason and Miller
dig into the personal stories of the maps, and the people who made them. They
explore the contexts and environments of the maps; and often the trials and
tribulations of their circumstance. They reveal far more than the map as a
captivating and arresting image. They reveal the often intriguing and personal
stories behind the maps. So, in this sense, the book is more of a collection
about maps than it is a book of maps. The fact that the maps are beautiful
makes it simply a superbly illustrated story book. And it’s important that many
of these stories are told because for many, maps just appear, devoid of
context. Sure, people may like them but a general audience will unlikely not care
one bit about the people who made them and the work that went into them. For
instance, we learn of the incredible lengths that Bradford and Barbara Washburn
went to create their utterly stupendous 1978 map of the Heart of Grand Canyon.
Eight years of planning, fieldwork, analysis, drafting, painting and
negotiating to create one map. Every trail in the canyon surveyed several times
by multiple people using a measuring wheel to check and check accuracy again
and again. Assistants were sent to check Bradford Washburn’s own measurements
with strict instructions “if you make a bad mistake, never back up, as the
wheel won’t reverse. Just stop and cuss a reasonable amount. Then go back to
where you know you made your last reliable measurement.” Even the map’s main
relief artist, the inimitable Tibor Toth reckoned he spent 1,074.5 hours to
paint the map. I love these stories. They show the very human nature of
cartography and the fact that everything on a map is somehow touched by a human
whether it’s in data collection, decision-making, design or production. Every
mark has the impact of the maker and the craft of their expertise and this book
is at pains to reflect that in each piece of writing that accompanies the maps.
As any good reporter
will know, the story isn’t about them but it’s about what they are reporting
and while there’s clear evidence of Mason and Miller’s love of the subject and
the maps they write about, they have gone to great lengths to interview
cartographers, curators and scholars linked to the maps and who can provide
authoritative knowledge and insight. They’ve gone to the best and, so we are
often treated to critique and comment from some of todays most experienced and
respected cartographers and map experts. This brings a whole new level of
character to the writing because we’re not merely reading descriptions, we’re
reading a reflective piece that draws many pieces of information and views
together. They’ve marshalled their interviews into consistent reportage as if
they are simply the eyewitnesses to the stories. They write in an accessible
and engaging style for a general audience. While there’s plenty to delight the
knowledgable cartographic expert, the book will also reach a wider audience
merely interested in some of the stories which they can access without having
to interpret cartojargon. The layout of the book is also appealing with a loose
structure combining maps and text as appropriate. Each illustration is provided
with a detailed description so you’re guided through each entry by the main
text and the annotations.
There are around 300
illustrations in the book and it’s hard to provide a definitive list of the
type of content but there’s maps (obviously), diagrams, photographs, postcards,
illustrations, paintings, posters, globes, atlases, examples of work under
construction and so much else that helps paint a picture of the context of the
maps. For instance, how many have seen the magnificent world ocean floor map by
Austrian artist Heinrich Berann? Plenty. But the six pages devoted to this map
includes photographs of the map’s scientific authors Marie Tharp and Bruce
Heezen hard at work plotting soundings, transect profiles of the Atlantic
Ocean, a wonderful physiographic diagram of the Atlantic drawn by Tharp herself
which demonstrates the plan oblique approach then painted by Berann. Together
the illustrations help tell the story of the famous map. There’s a nod to the
work of Minard though with a focus on some of his less famous but equally wonderful
statistical thematic cartography. And there’s even one of my colleague John
Nelson’s maps: his lights on/lights out map showing the changes in nighttime
illumination between 2012-2016. This fact alone demonstrates the efforts Mason
and Miller have gone to in order to represent the full gamut of cartography
which is no mean feat in 320 pages. Since the book is organized thematically
there isn’t the usual old to new flow either. We see historic examples
intermingled with contemporary and vice versa. It works well and you can pretty
much just flick open a page and dive straight in. No, lose yourself just
exploring and saying to yourself, oh go on then…just one more page.
It'd be pretty
difficult to review the breadth of maps in the book to give you a flavor even.
Let’s just say Mason and Miller have got you covered whatever your map vice is.
So whether you like the painstaking detail of beautiful topographic maps, the
imagination of celestial charts, the analytical representation of statistical
data or the fantasy of the map of Westeros or the Death Star then there’s
plenty in this book to feast on. Hand-drawn, pixel pushed, sewn or plotted from
the smell of a place, I’m struggling to think of a phase of cartographic
history, design aesthetic or production method that isn’t covered somewhere in
the book. That’s quite some achievement and it makes this a really
comprehensive compilation that reflects the rich variety of cartographic work.
I’d like to say that the book is a bit U.S. centric but it isn’t really and
anyway, who would care if it is? I mean, London A-Z is well represented just as
much as Soviet maps of Washington D.C. There’s plenty of great maps of the US
but there’s maps of pretty much every part of the world as well. So they’ve
even made a book that covers the world geographically too.
I’ve worked with Betsy
and Greg on a few of their projects over the last few years and come to know
them as hard working, meticulous and honest people. Reporters often get a bad name for being a
bit lackadaisical and missing those crucial details that the experts of the
content sweat over. But that’s not my experience with these two passionate
reporters who want to find and deliver quality in their work. They have a knack
of finding a story and what they bring to this book is a new perspective on the
maps they’ve chosen. Even familiar maps are given fresh life and their style
gives a modern take on the process and practice of cartography and the maps we
make. I guess my only real surprise, rather than a criticism, is that the book
wasn’t subtitled ‘Volume 1’ because I, for one, hope that they are already
delving through National Geographic’s archives as well as the wider world of
cartography to bring us a second collection at the very least. Maybe next time
I’ll get a map in because that’d be a huge privilege and it’s possibly the
biggest acclaim I can give to the book that I’m jealous that I haven’t yet made
anything worthy enough to be considered. That makes me want to try harder as I
hope for the next installment of their cartographic odyssey.
All Over the Map: A cartographic odyssey
By Betsy Mason and Greg Miller
Hardcover 320 pages
$50.00 / £38.39
Full disclosure: I received a free copy of the book for review from the publisher though there was no requirement to write a review, positive, negative or indifferent. I also acted as an advisor to the book albeit I can’t recall precisely what and am sure it was a miniscule contribution, a fleetingly brief conversation and pretty much irrelevant to the final product anyway. But you’ll find my name in the acknowledgments so it’s best to mention this.
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