Title | : | A History of the World in 12 Maps |
Author | : | |
Rating | : | |
ISBN | : | 0670023396 |
ISBN-10 | : | 9780670023394 |
Language | : | English |
Format Type | : | Hardcover |
Number of Pages | : | 521 |
Publication | : | First published September 6, 2012 |
Awards | : | Hessell-Tiltman Prize (2013) |
In this masterful study, historian and cartography expert Jerry Brotton explores a dozen of history’s most influential maps, from stone tablet to vibrant computer screen. Starting with Ptolemy, "father of modern geography," and ending with satellite cartography, A History of the World in 12 Maps brings maps from classical Greece, Renaissance Europe, and the Islamic and Buddhist worlds to life and reveals their influence on how we—literally—look at our present world.
As Brotton shows, the long road to our present geographical reality was rife with controversy, manipulation, and special interests trumping science. Through the centuries maps have been wielded to promote any number of imperial, religious, and economic agendas, and have represented the idiosyncratic and uneasy fusion of science and subjectivity. Brotton also conjures the worlds that produced these notable works of cartography and tells the stories of those who created, used, and misused them for their own ends.
A History of the World in 12 Maps Reviews
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Wow, I'm actually pretty impressed with myself for finishing this book. It certainly took a while. This isn't a reflection on the book's quality, more so it's style, since this is very much a textbook, massive massive textbook. As oppose to a lighter armchair historian/cartographer volumes like for instance Ken Jennings' lovely book on maps. This book is dense, crammed with information, at times overwhelmingly so. Then again is there really such a thing as too informative. There is so much here about maps, their creators, the sociopolitical conditions that necessitated them and profited from them, the way the human perception of the world has changed over time from ancient world to world wide web. It is exhausting, but it's also absolutely fascinating and exceptionally educational, which is what I personally look for in nonfiction reads. It also has terrific map reproductions in black and white and vivid color. This weighty behemoth was a somewhat laborious, but a rewarding, interesting and enlightening read.
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Maps are sexy. They are rich founts of information in text and picture form: layers of semantics crowded on rectangles or squares of paper, pixels of possibility on a 3D representation of the world. They are an essential form of communication, but they are often overlooked. Let’s face it: we take maps for granted. This is especially true now that Google and other companies have made it easy to explore the Earth virtually. As these tools become commonplace, the technology fades into the background and becomes more like a pencil (a piece of technology, but one so familiar as to be rather unremarkable) than a supercomputer. So it behoves us to stop and consider the staggering achievement that is mapping, particularly when so much of what we know stretches all the way back to a time before we had precise ways to measure time and space. Contrary to popular belief, the ancient Greeks figured out that the Earth was round pretty quickly. And Plato’s imaginary depiction of the Earth as observed from space is similar to what we actually found when we finally made it up there in the twentieth century.
Jerry Brotton has written a history of the world, and he chose to do it through maps. Make no mistake, though: A History of the World in Twelve Maps is mostly about maps. Shocking, I know. For the history component, he traces the social and scientific forces that influenced the production of the different maps he discusses. He links mapmaking to the search for knowledge as well as our desire to organize that knowledge. Finally, he explains how different maps served different purposes—some practical, some political, but all philosophical. Mapmaking is both a science and an art, but regardless of its classification, it is an ideological exercise.
One striking thing about this book is its remarkable evenness. I find that with non-fiction that takes a segmented approach like this, most books tend to be uneven: a few chapters are very interesting, most are reasonably interesting, and then a few are just not that satisfying—kind of a normal curve of chapter quality, if you will. This isn’t the case here. I’m not saying that every chapter is amazing, and I raced through some while lingering in others. But every chapter is informative, interesting, and intriguing in its own way. Brotton has selected a good sample of maps throughout the ages. He begins each chapter by introducing the map (or mapmaker) before backtracking, explaining the historical context in which the map arose. From this, we come to understand how the drive for the acquisition of knowledge in Alexandria influenced Ptolemy’s groundbreaking maps based on geometry. We learn how the relationships between China, Japan, and Korea influenced the mapping of North Korea in the sixteenth century. We learn how revolutionary France delayed the completion of the most ambitious survey project for its time, and property disputes in England resulted in British Africa and India being better-mapped than the UK.
Got all that? Good, there’s a test at the end.
As you might have gathered, there is a lot in this book. It was a good deal, considering that it comes with two sections full of colour plates of various maps. Brotton has obviously done the research (which, much to my pleasure, he has meticulously documented in endnotes). The result is an information-dense look at history and mapmaking, and while this is never boring or dry, at times it is a little overwhelming. I’m not sure how much I will retain a month or a year after reading this book.
This is always a danger with these kinds of books, and it’s a difficult pitfall to avoid. By covering so many topics, even with the depth and interest that Brotton displays, A History of the World in Twelve Maps becomes little more than a survey of world history. Entire books can be (and have been) written about Ptolemy, or revolutionary France, or Mercator. Still, this is a minor complaint—and, considering I’m complaining about how much the book tells me, not really a complaint at all. If anything, this just means that I have a better idea of which books to seek out next....
In this respect, A History of the World in Twelve Maps reminds me a great deal of
A Short History of Nearly Everything, a similarly sprawling survey of history through the lens of scientific discovery. I love the latter so much, and while Brotton’s style isn’t quite as engaging or stimulating, he manages to replicate a lot of the sense of wonder that Bryson creates. He communicates how polarizing the use of maps was in sixteenth century Europe, when Castile and Portugal were fighting over the rights to the entire world. He replicates the excitement that must have been palpable for those mapmakers involved in the surveying of eighteenth-century France. These days, maps are a commodity (or a service)—then, maps were a staggering achievement of science, art, and engineering.
As a mathematician, I particularly enjoyed when Brotton mentioned the mathematics behind mapmaking. The Earth is round (an oblate spheroid, to be pedantic about it), and it is not possible to project the curved surface of the Earth onto a 2-dimensional piece of paper with perfect fidelity. You either get distorted areas or distorted angles (or both), which means your map will look funny, or it will be useless for navigation, generally considered two very important aspects of a map. For as long as we have been making maps, we’ve tried to determine the best way to approximate the 3-d curvature of the Earth on a 2-d piece of paper. (Brotton also goes Borgesian and talks about how we can’t have a "perfect map" unless the scale is 1:1, which would be silly. I remember talking about this back in my Philosophy of Science class days.) Now, for those of you who have been reading this paragraph and are about to scramble wildly to cancel your Amazon order, wait! There are no complicated equations in here, no mathematical sleights of hand. Brotton merely mentions the tricky and impressive math involved (or highlights when some, like Mercator, deduce a projection without knowledge of the math involved). So it’s possible to appreciate the beautiful and necessary mathematics here without becoming drawn in too deep.
Of course, as with any survey-type book of history, there are things that Brotton left out that I would have liked to see. He laudably devotes a chapter to China and Korea, but the rest of the book is very much about the Western world. Absent is any discussion of Australian Aboriginal
songlines or the mapping techniques of the indigenous peoples of the Americas. Brotton describes attempts to map Africa but spends no time discussing how the indigenous inhabitants found their way around for tens of thousands of years. Of course, it’s true that many of these cultures don’t have maps in the conventional sense; they rely on oral tradition and reckoning by the sun and the stars. Even if that is the case, Brotton makes a passionate plea for a very open definition of a map in his introduction. He doesn’t want to limit himself to discussing small rectangles of paper—and so, it would have been nice to see him branch out some more.
The book is at its best when Brotton explains how the desires or aims of a government or an individual influenced the development and deployment of maps in that time period. (I was very fascinated by his recounting of the conflict between Castile and Portugal and Magellan’s subsequent, ill-fated circumnavigation.) He makes it very clear that mapmaking is not something done in isolation; it is a political and philosophical activity that relies as much on the allegiances of the mapmaker as it does the objectivity of the Earth’s landscape and geography. The premise, telling the history (or selected parts of history) through maps is quite cool. Brotton largely succeeds at what he sets out as his mission in the introduction. At times the information he includes is a little much for a book of this type, but that’s not a deal-breaker. With amazing maps and enthusiastic explanations, Brotton educates and captivates.
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A wide-ranging, deftly told history of the world. The book ranges from the very earliest maps in the Babylonian world to modern geospatial applications such as Google Earth. This book could have been complete drudgery in the hands of a lesser author, but Brotton creates a compelling narrative in each chapter, weaving a tapestry of many key threads through world history. And I really do mean world history - while Eurocentric, map-making in China, Korea, and the Americas is discussed, as well as the impact of map-making on European colonialism (and no, what you think about the Mercator projection is probably simplistic and wrong).
The book is clearly well researched with lashings of references, and felt similar in tone to the also excellent Infinitesimal: How a Dangerous Mathematical Theory Shaped the Modern World by Amir Alexander - if you liked one of these books then you'll definitely enjoy the other. It did drag a bit for the first third, but after that the book skips along nicely and is a compelling read. Highly recommended. -
One of the disadvantages of having a kindle, is not knowing the actual size of a book. This was a huge and challenging one. There is a lot of information in this book and one learns some pretty interesting stuff. But it is also a very "dry" reading. Boring most of the time. I had my share of "wows" - "wow, so this was how America appeared on the map" type of wows but that was it. A lot of dates and history facts which bored me to the core.
DONT READ IT ON A KINDLE. In the end there are a lot of fotos, all the maps discussed in the book are presented there. A black and white kindle is an unfortunate medium to see them.
As I said, very informative. Nothing more nothing less. -
A fascinating study of the history of maps, and of the concerns of the map-makers.
For a further review:
http://susannag.booklikes.com/post/73...
Thanks to Net Galley for the ARC. -
I was fascinated by the idea of this: of course maps are a huge part of how we understand our world, and the way we format our maps is a big giveaway to the way we feel about the world. A map covered in clearly-marked borders marks separations and national boundaries; different maps with disputed borders show areas of conflict. Maps can reveal belonging and isolation and the limits of the human imagination.
Unfortunately, Brotton’s writing is really dry, from my perspective, and I wasn’t always convinced about his choice of maps. Or rather, he would pick maps and then talk about almost everything but the map: the context the map came from, yes, the politics of those that made it, yes. But the map itself, less so. Now, context is a great thing — hello, I was pretty much exclusively a new historicist as a literature postgrad — but I wanted more about the maps. More images would probably have helped, too.
If you’re more interested in the history of cartography and geography than I am, this is probably a great book. It just didn’t quite take the angle I was looking for.
Originally posted on my blog. -
Var droši teikt, ka cilvēks ir centies saprast savu vietu pasaulē jau no pašiem pirmsākumiem. Taču droši par kartēm kā tādām var sākt runāt tikai no senās Babilonas laikiem. Tieši no šī perioda ir saglabājies priekšmets, kuru var nosaukt par karti. Modernā ģeogrāfija aizsākās Ptolemaja laikos, un beidzas viss ar kartēm, kuru izveidošanai tiek izmantoti zemes mākslīgie pavadoņi. Karte tāda, kādu mēs pazīstam tagad, neradās uzreiz, lai cik tas loģiski nešķistu. Sākumā karte bija vairāk mākslas objekts, kurš parādīja cilvēka vietu visumā, un pareiza vietu attēlošana bija tikai papildus bonuss. Galvenais bija atšķirt pazīstamo no svešā un parādīt, ka Debesis ir tikpat reālas kā Elle.
Pirms sākt lasīt grāmatu es biju visnotaļ augstās domās par savām zināšanām kartogrāfijas vēsturē. Jā, es zināju faktus, cilvēkus un kā viss agrāk tika attēlots. Taču es nekad nebiju aizdomājies par karti kā kompleksu objektu, kuru reizē rada cilvēki un to zināšanas un to, kādas zināšanas tā dod noteiktiem sabiedrības pārstāvjiem. Kā šī savstarpējā mijiedarbība lēnām, bet neapturami maina pasauli un līdz ar to pašas kartes. Kādreiz un tagad kartes jau nezīmēja tāpat vien prieka pēc, tās parasti tika veidotas kādas ideoloģijas kontekstā. Ideoloģija variēja katrā vēstures posmā, ja kādreiz centrālā ideja bija reliģija, tad ar laiku tā izauga kā nācijas apzināšanās, vai kā pēdējos laikos - kā tirdzniecības iespēja.
Savulaik kartogrāfijas kā tādas nebija, un līdz pat viduslaikiem bija grūti saprast, kas tad tā īsti ir zinātne vai māksla. Vairāk vai mazāk karšu sastādītāji centās ietvert abus šos elementus. Tad nu laiku gaitā lēnām kartes nonāca līdz mūsdienu veidolam. Autors gan uzskata, ka nekas vēl nav beidzies. Izmainītā realitāte ļauj kartēm uzlikt daudz vairāk informācijas slāņus par vienkāršu ģeogrāfisko vietu uzskaitījumu. Ja kāds netic, var uzspēlēt Pokemon Go un pārliecināties, ka karte jau sen vairs nav pie sienas piekarināma lieta, kurā viss ir noteikts un piefiksēts. Nedaudz ir aizskarts arī senais kartogrāfu sapnis - izveidot karti mērogā 1:1. Mūsdienās tas teorētiski būtu iespējams, taču pat šādai kartei piemistu visu karšu vaina, tā atspoguļotu pasauli neprecīzi, jo būtu fiksēta noteiktā laika sprīdī.
Lasīšana gan nav no vieglajām, autoram reizēm neizdodas labi ietērpt savu domu skaidrā teikuma struktūrā. Neliegšos, ka laiku pa laikam viņa man palīdzēja labi aizmigt, jo smadzenes vienkārši nespēja tikt galā ar informācijas gūzmu. Tāpat laiku pa laikam nācās apstāties lasīšanā un jauniegūto informāciju iekārtot jau agrāk rakstīto darbu gaismā. Piemēram, Umberto Eko Bodolīno es atklāju veselu līdz šim nepamanītu šķautni. Man jau vairāk patiktu, ja autoram tekstā pieminot kartes viņš uz tām atsauktos precīzi, jo citādi brīžiem ir jāmeklē tās klātpievienotajās bildēs.
Lieku 10 no 10 ballēm. Jā, ir nedaudz pasausa, varbūt vietām autors pārāk brīvi interpretē vēsturisko kontekstu sava darba vajadzībām, taču ieguvums atliku likām pārspēj visus mīnusus. Izlasot šo grāmatu noteikti iegūsiet padziļinātu priekšstatu par kartogrāfiju. Noteikti radīsies vēlme iegādāties vismaz kādu seno karšu atlasu, lai paskatītos uz pasauli no cita laikmeta skatupunkta. Iespējams, tagad vērojot kādu karti pievērsīsiet uzmanību ne tikai pašam vietām , bet arī izmantotajai projekcijai un pielietotajam mērogam. Noteikti iesaku izlasīt! -
From the first known world map engraved on a cuneiform clay tablet to Google Earth's interactive three-dimensional image of the world, History of the World in Twelve Maps is a wonderful introduction to the history of cartography. As the title suggests, Jerry Brotton picked twelve maps and placed them in their historical context, dedicating one chapter to each map. At first sight, his choice may seem arbitrary enough - why pick the Hereford map and not the Ebstorf map, or Pietro Vesconte's map, or Fra Mauro's Mappamundi? - but it all becomes clear when reading through the chapters. Since the earth cannot be comprehensively mapped onto a flat surface, maps are necessarily a distortion of reality and, Brotton argues, shaped by the worldview of their makers. Each of the twelve chosen maps represents a worldview of a particular time in history and each of them has an interesting story to tell.
Read this if you'd like to know why, in medieval times, maps by Islamic mapmakers tended to face south while Christian maps faced east and Chinese maps faced north (which, incidentally, made the latter ones look surprisingly modern); how Mercator was arrested and imprisoned for heresy and why his 1569 world map has been unfairly labelled as the ultimate symbol of Eurocentric imperial domination over the rest of the globe; or why Arno Peter's "equality map" was so highly criticised by the cartographic community and yet so popular with development aid organisations such as Oxfam and UNDP.
Brotton being a professor of Renaissance Studies, it is not surprising that his narrative comes most alive when describing the maps that were being made when Europeans started to explore entire continents that were previously unknown: the Waldseemüller map which was the first to name and describe America, Diogo Ribeiro's map as an attempt to claim the riches of the Indonesian spice islands for the Spanish crown, Mercator's projection for navigators, Joan Blaeu's atlases for the VOC and the wealthy merchants of Holland. These "Renaissance chapters" are really excellently done.
Having worked with maps for most of my adult life, these Twelve Maps and the stories behind them weren't new to me, but some of the observations were. Although Eratosthenes is generally thought of as the father of geography, Brotton pointed out that the description of the shield of Achilles fashioned by Hephaestus in Homer's Iliad is actually the first account of what we would now call geography: "…at its centre were the earth, and sky, and sea, the weariless sun and the moon waxing full, and all the constellations that crown the heavens. Moving out, the shield portrayed two fine cities of mortal men, one at peace, one at war; agricultural life showing the practice of ploughing, reaping and vintage; the pastoral world of straight-horned cattle, white-woolled sheep; and finally the mighty river of Ocean, running on the rim round the edge of the strong-built shield…", and this prompted me to read the Iliad again - a fine translation by Robert Graves.
All in all, this book is a fascinating overview of mapmaking throughout the history of humankind. I loved it. -
This is not so much a history of the world in twelve maps as the stories of twelve maps and their places in history. The author's main premise is that maps are inherently subjective and are influenced by the culture that produces them and its motivations for that production.
The premise is elegantly explored through twelve chapters, each with a single word title describing the main influence on the map's production. Thus we see medieval mappae mundi that set out to describe the world with reference to biblical details ("Faith"), the assertion of a proud new dynasty in the Korean peninsula, overshadowed by its neighbour ("Empire"), an exploration of the mapmaking of the Dutch East India Company ("Money"), all the way up to Google Earth ("Information").
It turns out that the history of cartography is not simply a tale of filling in the gaps, occasionally spiced up with a complicated treatise on a new projection. It is a discipline that has varied hugely in why it is done, who it is done by, and who it is done for. The strength of this book is that it doesn't shy away from technical details and in depth discussion of cultural and political forces in play during a given period, and the author makes this completely accessible. There is human interest and a sweeping historial picture, but not enough to dilute the focus.
An excellent read. I like maps a lot, and this probably the best book on maps I have read. -
3.5 stars rounded up. Jerry Brotton’s A History of the World in 12 Maps (paperback edition) has an interesting but narrow hypothesis. His intent is to limit his discussion to just world maps and thereby artificially promote his belief. I accept his argument that maps reflect the purpose of the map maker but I am not sure that his conclusion is as significant as he does. 12 Maps gave me a lot of history and a lot to think about. The writing tends to be ponderous. This makes it hard to be sure who he is speaking to. The style is not academic nor particularly inviting to a general reader. For me, tugging through Brotton’s book was worth it. I am not sure what readers will most enjoy his book.
The central thesis of A History of the World in 12 maps is that maps, and especially world maps are heavily reflective of the times and purposes of the both the map maker and the spirit and philosophy of their times. The earliest Western maps, mostly represented by the mapaemundi can be thought of as maps made to illustrate the prevailing belief in the Holy Trinity as being mirrored by a cruciform image of the earth. By the 3rd map we are introduced to the political map, drawn closer to a modern form but serving the imperial and diplomatic needs of the earth bound governments in Asia and later dividing the newly discovered lands between Spain and Portugal. Eventually map will be designed to serve commercial needs and even humanitarian ones.
By the time Brotton discusses the important maps designed in France and the Netherlands, he concludes an earlier argument that there can never be a 100% accurate, flat, world map and that the best humans can do is make and remake new maps as humans change the geography of the planet and new methods are developed to portray geography.
If we strictly limit ourselves to world maps produced for official purposes, to stand church based illustrations or submitted for government negotiations, it is not hard to accept that these maps have no day to day practical function. That they reflect prevailing beliefs and the needs of the institutions that sponsors them seems, if only upon reflection, obvious. Brotton makes no mention of the types of navigational charts that traders and sailors would have needed to cross the Asians grasslands or the Mediterranean Seas. I do not remember much discussion of maps in the works of Cesare, but it is an old Army truism that geography is fate. It is hard to believe that there was no one producing the kinds of maps that were designed to give navigators local or regional maps to serve the less> exhausted purposes such as marking out the location and frequency of safe water along desert trades routes or safe harbors for ships crossing the Indian Ocean.
If we limit ourselves to just these maps, this question goes unanswered. The absence of this answer itself invokes a larger discussion that Brotton could have productively addressed. Initially Brotton gives himself an out by declaring his examples limited to world maps. But many of his maps are not. The wonderful maps of Napoleonic France, reflecting Cassinni surveys and Capitaine skills are wonderful. But they were intended to be maps of France. They helped Napoleon’s General to plan their movements, if only those maneuvers conducted in France, again begs the question: what had been generals been doing before Cassinni?
When Brotton discusses Mercator, we are suddenly presented with the fact that there had been a number of projections developed before the Mercator projection. When? By Who? For what purpose? Why are these maps not important if we are to understand the relationships between maps and the societies that created the need for them?
In terms of the production of the book, there was a convention in book publishing that discussions of illustration in the book should be referenced. The description of the floor maps in the Amsterdam Town Hall, should direct the reader to Illustration 37. The absence of this kind of help tends to make it hard to know that a particular map is illustrated in the book and where to find it. Too often important maps are not illustrated.
A delicious speculation by Brotton is that the map makers of the time can to accept the name America as an act of political correctness. Brotton retells the problems with and the understanding of Amerigo Vespucci’s naming rights to the New World. Almost every aspect of these claims can now be regarded as doubtful. His contemporaries were clearly not unanimous in there their support for his primacy, but they may have given over the argument rather than place themselves in awkward positions between rival religious and national claims against naming rights -
Good popular geography highlighting twelve maps which changed the conception of the known world, or which illustrate the way in which the mapmakers located themselves and their people in the world. Brotton makes sure to make this a global survey, with the Korean Kangnido World Map of 1402 and al-Idrisi's friendship with Roger II of Sicily resulting in the Book of Roger. Good work for generalists, with explanations of cartography and techniques.
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Un libro che spiega in maniera esaustiva l'evoluzione della cartografia e della visione che gli uomini hanno avuto del mondo in vari contesti storici e temporali.
Una lettura lunga, corposa, ma molto molto interessante! -
I have to admit I hit and missed the final half of the book. It reads like a text book with dozens of references on each page that can divert your attention.
It appears to be extremely well researched and then all the research is crammed into each page.
Not my cup of tea -
In lots of ways this is a fascinating book, picking up on the trend to look at a historical subject in the context of a single item or area. It was first started by the book A History of the World in 100 Objects.
There are lots of images of ancient maps, the detail and depth that the book goes into are impressive, and the credentials of the author are impeccable. And yet it doesn’t work for me. There is a mass of detail in here, from some of the very first maps by Ptolemy and other significant ones like the Mappi Mundi in Hereford cathedral, to the Mercer projection and the origins of the OS, and onto Google earth. It covers all the really important maps and individuals involved in the creation of those maps, and has some superb images of the maps in colour.
What makes this book so difficult to read is the text; it feels like it is written like a academic paper most of the time. It does improve towards the end, but it did make it very hard reading for most of the book, and that is a shame. -
Mi aspettavo qualcosa di un po' più scorrevole, ma si tratta comunque di una serie di mappe che aiutano a capire dodici differenti "modi di vedere il mondo".
Non sono dodici finestre sulla storia del mondo, sono dodici modi diversi di osservarlo e di rappresentarlo, ciascuno con i suoi meriti e i suoi svantaggi ma tutti a loro modo interessanti e affascinanti.
Ogni capitolo si apre con una mappa ma poi fa una rassegna del momento storico, della cultura e della produzione cartografica coeva dell'esemplare preso in esame: per esempio, nel capitolo sulle mappe di Cassini non si parla solo di quelle ma anche della National Ordnance Survey; nel capitolo su Peters si parla (ovviamente) anche di Galls e si spazia più sulle motivazioni socio-politiche che su quelle geografiche.
Se siete già appasionati di cartografia ve lo sconsiglio, perché le mappe prese in esame sono sicuramente quelle più famose e note agli addetti ai mestieri. Se però volete un'infarinatura che non sia stringata come la voce di Wikipedia, allora questo libro è sicuramente una lettura piacevole.
Avendolo letto in ebook non ho potuto apprezzare a dovere le riproduzioni delle mappe, che oltretutto il lettore di MLOL non consentiva di ingrandire. -
This is a very good book. It could potentially have been better titled as "A history of twelve world maps" or something like that, but I guess the current title works. The premise of the book is that a map of the world is a rich statement that speaks about places on the globe but also about the political, cultural, religious, and technological age in which it was developed. That means that world maps (and really all maps) are evidence of the times in which they are created, provided one takes the time and effort to dig deep. The author then goes ahead and digs deep -- very deep -- on a series of twelve maps ranging from Ptolemy in AD 154 to Google Earth today. The maps also span cultures and include significant East Asian and Islamic examples. All of the chapters read like well designed academic papers (which they likely were in some form) that could be presented separately and tell their own stories. The broader continuities and contrasts among them are also well developed in a really thoughtful book that takes some digesting. The first chapter drags a bit but after that the flow is less of a problem. Technical issues such as the perennial problem of how to project a spherical surface onto a flat surface are mixed together with broader metaphysical questions of how religion and science fit together without heresy. These issues are not just "historical". Mapping programs from Google and others are used everyday and their failures (such as with google maps) make the news. Geography is still important in global politics. The chapter on Mackinder is still relevant today with unease over the breakup of the Soviet Union and the rise of China to economic dominance. I could go on, but will not. The book is superb.
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The author has chosen twelve maps that were each made for a different purpose and which show the state of cartography as it changes across cultures and over time, from ancient Babylon to Google Earth. He shows that the great turning points of our world’s history have been both reflected in and changed by maps. Each chapter focuses on a particular map and who made it and why. It becomes very clear that maps are tools that let the viewer see the world from the perspective of their maker. Brotton shows that all maps are made with an intended purpose and what they choose to show is determined by that purpose. He has created a book that is both erudite and informative and which keeps the reader interested.
The experience of looking at a map for me, is almost magical. It allows me to leave the space I am in and go exploring without getting up out of my chair. As the author says of maps in the introduction, “In the act of locating themselves on it, the viewer is at the same moment imaginatively rising above (and outside) it in a transcendent moment of contemplation, beyond time and space seeing everything from nowhere.” I was looking forward to reading this book and it did not disappoint. It is a perfect fit for anyone with an affinity for maps. -
企圖宏大,但用二手資料談中文免不了用詞怪怪——作者說「北」和「背」同義源於「皇帝永遠背向北方」,但皇帝可是西元前三世紀才出現的啊(應當不是翻譯問題)。
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fascinating but a slog. It's more of a history of map-making that a history of the world, so hard for a generalist like me. The technical stuff is daunting and the prose is sometimes turgid but the rewards are many.
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Nonostante la traduzione italiana a volte affannosa, conserva dell'originale la narrazione di grande respiro, ricchissima di informazioni ma sempre di piacevole lettura.
La materia estremamente vasta costringe l'autore ad alcune scelte: si potra' forse obiettare che, eccetto il capitolo dedicato alla cultura coreana e cinese, resta un libro fortemente eurocentrico, ma del resto la cartografia moderna e' nata in Europa, pur con l'apporto di varie tradizioni. Forse ancora insufficiente e' lo spazio lasciato al contributo arabo (poco si dice della strumentazione, per esempio), ma e' lodevole l'aver presentato con grande onesta' intellettuale il multicularismo di Al-Idrisi e aver sottolineato l'importanza capitale dell'esperienza di Al-Andalus.
Probabilmente un maggiore spazio si sarebbe potuto dedicare ai portolani che per secoli hanno prodotto navigatori spesso rimasti anonimi, come pure sarebbe stato interessante approfondire il legame fra mitologia e geografia, anche se vi sono per accenni alla mitica Thule, ma non per esempio al paese di Punt cosi' come lo tramando' l'antico Egitto, e molto si sarebbe potuto dire dire sulla tradizione babilonese o persino Maya e Azteca, tutte tralasciate a favore di una in ogni caso ben approfondita indagine sul lascito greco-romano alla tradizione giudaico-cristiana.
Merita una speciale menzione il capitolo dedicato a Google Earth, con una dettagliata descrizione del modello di "googleconomics" e un tentativo di analizzare dal punto di vista sociale come si sia progressivamente passati da una visione ego-centrica a livello di dominio di potere (prima temporale, poi religioso e infine commerciale), poi a livello di nazione (da "La carte Cassini" in poi) ed infine, oggi, a livello individuale. Altro si potrebbe certo dire sul tema, ma esula dagli scopi del libro che, seppure ha il grande e raro merito di arrivare ai giorni nostri, nulla ad esempio dice su una esperienza paradigmatica come quella di OpenStreet Maps.
In ogni caso, per chi desidera una lettura mai banale eppure godibilissima, e' senz'altro consigliato. -
Excellent overall, an interesting way of surveying the history of civilization. Each map requires enough context to be understood and appreciated that Brotton does end up providing something like a coherent history rather than just a series of snapshots - but it won't make much sense to anyone who doesn't have a pretty decent grasp of world history to begin with. It's no introduction, that's for sure, but it's rich with anecdote and keen observation.
But I did find the repeated insistence of Botton's anti-positivist, postmodernist view of maps a little tiresome. I don't entirely disagree with him that it's important to bear in mind the cultural assumptions of mapmakers and map readers, and the social and political forces that lie behind the production of maps, rather than naively viewing them as wholly neutral and objective creations; but I think Botton's a bit overeager on this point, that he discounts the seemingly obvious and undeniable level on which maps have in fact become ever more accurate depictions of the shape and features of the surface of the earth. Sure, ideologies remain embedded in the systems which produce a Rand McNally atlas or the images of Google Earth, but it's hardly blinkered positivism to acknowledge that there's much more - and more accurate - representation of the earth's physical surface in my 2012 atlas than in the Hereford mappamundi.
On the other hand, it's certainly true that the makers of that mappamundi were not chiefly concerned, if concerned at all, with "accuracy" in the way that I use the term. In this sense Botton does a valuable service, insisting that we don't look at the maps made in other ages and by other cultures simply by comparison with more recent maps that prioritize more recognizable concerns. Maybe he had no good alternative to beating that particular horse a little more than was good for it, to ensure that his reader resists such a reductive, if instinctive, reading. -
Il tema del libro è affascinante per chi, come me, è un appassionato di carte geografiche al punto che mi sono stati regalati diversi atlanti. Si narra la storia di dodici mappe da Tolomeo a Google Earth, si descrivono le tecniche sviluppate e usate per ogni carta e le motivazioni culturali, economiche o religiose che hanno mosso l'autore e il lavoro da lui svolto.
Ogni capitolo contiene un'iniziale contestualizzazione, scritta generalmente in modo vivace e veloce e poi passa a descrivere la realizzazione della mappa nel suo dettaglio, più negli aspetti relativi all'ambiente culturale e alla formazione della mappa come oggetto storico che negli aspetti tecnici (comunque piuttosto dettagliati). Questa seconda parte di ogni capitolo rende la lettura del libro lunga e difficile. Bratton possiede un'erudizione enorme sul tema e sui protagonisti ma non riesce a trasmetterla col necessario brio. Ci ho messo mesi, ma l'ho finito e ne è valsa la pena. -
Ok ... I seriously geeked out on this book! I do have a fascination for maps and geography, so i did relish this book. I guess this is in many ways the author's history choosing the maps that most interested him and putting them into their respective historical, political and religious context that defined their creation. To me part of this fascination with maps has to do with their sense of discovery, and of trying to make sense of our place and the definition they bring, these too are the defining characteristics of the mapmaker and like all those discoveries that man has made about his physical world they evoke a sense of wonder and amazement. Painstakingly researched and infinitely detailed this was a great read, even if it started out relatively dry, it is well worth persevering with!
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Dry as hell. Interesting content, achingly straight-forward delivery.
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Anais Nin said “We don’t see the world as it is, we see it as we are”. This is the key message that I took from Jerry Brotton’s wonderful book “A History of the World in 12 Maps”.
Brotton, an historian and “Cartography expert”, starts his book off with the idea that a basic human instinct is to make sense of the world, and that map making is a fundamental part of this type of thinking. We can see how this is true starting with a simple farming example where two farmers want to define where “their” plots of land begin and end to those who build applications from the source code of Google Earth. They need a map to plot their respective domains.
I loved the way the author took us on journey of discovery in showing how great minds put together of maps – and in the case of this book, maps of the world - to make sense of the planet we inhabit. This occurred on many occasions, starting from the centers of higher learning in Ptolemy’s Alexandria in the Second Century and al-Idrisi’s “The Entertainment” from 12th Century Norman Sicily and the Cassini maps of France’s Louis XIV – Louis XVI courts in the 17th and 18th Centuries. Moreover, the author shepherded us on this journey with an in-depth analysis of the backdrop in which these map makers worked outlining likely what they were thinking at the time.
Where Anais Nin’s quote comes into play is that maps have told stories such as the 14th Century Hereford Mappamundi, which characterizes the world as part of a biblical story beginning with creation and ending up with judgement all superimposed on a religious point of view. The makers of the Hereford masterpiece, and the “audience” for this Mappamundi, were more concerned about religion that physical geography. Hence the map is based more on religion than the physical positions of territory.
A similar thing happens with the Korean Kangnido map. While this 15th Century map gives a fair representation of the Korean Peninsula, it dramatically overemphasizes the size of China, while at the same time diminishes the size of neigbouring Japan. That’s because the political backdrop of the time required the mapmakers to render the map in this manner. Failure to do so could have been fatal!
The makers of those maps clearly did not see the world as it is; rather they saw, or interpreted, the world in way that they were, or in a way that made the most sense to them.
I also appreciated the way the author argued along with German mathematician Carl Friedrich Gauss, who in the 1820's say that it was impossible to map the terrestrial globe onto a plane surface without serious distortion. It is precisely this inability to mathematically reproduce a 3-dimensional globe on a 2- dimensional piece of paper that gives rise to the many “projections” or interpretations of Mother Earth.
The photographs in the book were both helpful and there was a generous number of them. Well done.
There is really nothing to dislike in this interesting book. It will help you learn history and how thinking evolved with exploration, technology and social change.
If there was one thing that I would add it would be a one, or two, page chronology that shows how the thinking behind map making, evolved. The book was almost 450 pages of great storytelling. At various stages of reading I wanted to visualize the progress than maps made.
This is a great read for anyone interesting in history and how it is shaped by both the victors of wars – physical and/or intellectual. And how this remains an ongoing process. -
As a child, I was fascinated with maps. I pored over the new Metrobus St. John's route map for weeks. Intending a few weeks' visit to Toronto in 1973, I spent months studying the City of Toronto map to be sure that I could identify at need the shortest distance between any two points. My uncle picked us up at the airport and immediately taught me a long-lasting lesson: the shortest physical distance between two points is not necessarily the fastest route. I still have all my state and city driving maps, marked with all kinds of details, from travels in the U.S. by road, 1983-88. I like maps. So, I am greatly amused to discover that the chapter of Jerry Brotton's book A History of the Workd in 12 Maps which sustained my unflagging attention for the longest time is the chapter on the arrival of Google--a form of mapping that only appeared decades after I was most fascinated with "the map" and all that it stood for. Brotton's book is like the world whose history and geography it examines: there are desert places; there are lush jungles; there are well-developed areas through which basic passage is straightforward; there a billions of interesting little side-streets. As a voracious re-reader, I expect that what I will return to is the analysis of the internet era of mapping. While the rest is interesting, the final chapter tries (for the first time, claims the author) to examine the electronic geographical era, the one I'm living through. I'm not sure ultimately how to rank the book, but I do think it is worth reading, even (perhaps especially) by anyone using GPS to navigate one's hometown.