A fascination with the world of maps

My fascination with maps began during my grade school days when I became obsessed with reading historical fiction books and books about other countries. This led me to try to locate other countries using a globe. As I got older, I began to read that world events were very dependent on geography. Hence, the term “geopolitics.” As I read and wrote about geopolitics, I began to buy books about maps and their influence on world events. These are the reasons why this book is especially fascinating to me.

Jerry Brotton’s “A History of the World in 12 Maps” is a richly detailed and intellectually stimulating exploration of how maps have shaped human understanding of the world. Published in 2012, this ambitious work spans centuries and continents, offering a fascinating look at the interplay between cartography, power, ideology and identity. Going beyond mere geographical tools, the 12 maps selected serve as reflections of the cultural, political and philosophical frameworks of the societies that produced them.

The book asserts that maps are not objective representations of reality, but rather shaped by the purposes and worldviews of their creators. Brotton, a professor of Renaissance studies and a historian of maps, approaches cartography not as a technical discipline but as a cultural artifact – one that reveals how people have imagined their place in the world across time.

There are 12 emblematic maps, each from a different era and region, from ancient Babylon to Google Earth. These include the Babylonian World Map (6th century BCE), Ptolemy’s Geography (2nd century CE), the Mappa Mundi of Hereford Cathedral (c. 1300), al-Idrisi’s Islamic world map (1154) and the 1507 Waldseemüller map – the first to name “America.” Brotton continues with Mercator’s 1569 projection, which would go on to shape Western cartographic norms, and concludes with the digital revolution of satellite imagery and global positioning.

Each map is given a full chapter and situated within its historical, cultural and political context. Brotton’s storytelling excels in drawing connections between seemingly distant maps and the enduring questions they represent: who holds power? what is the center of the world? how is “truth” constructed? For example, the medieval Hereford Mappa Mundi places Jerusalem at the center of the world, symbolizing the centrality of Christian faith in medieval Europe. In contrast, the Chinese Kangnido map (1402) places China at the center, representing a different political and cultural worldview.

One of the strengths of Brotton’s work is his ability to unpack the layered intentions behind each map. He argues persuasively that no map is “neutral.” Each is a product of its time, created for specific reasons – be it imperial conquest, religious instruction, commercial navigation or national identity-building. This is especially clear in the case of the Mercator projection which, while useful for navigation, significantly distorts the size of land masses near the poles, exaggerating the importance of Europe and North America while minimizing the global South. Brotton uses this example to critique the Eurocentric narratives embedded in many Western maps.

Each map comes to life with accompanying vignettes. Readers learn about Claudius Ptolemy and the rediscovery of his Geographia in the Renaissance, al-Idrisi’s work at the court of King Roger II of Sicily and how early explorers like Columbus and Magellan navigated using incomplete or speculative maps. Brotton deftly explains how changing technologies – from woodcuts to satellite imaging – have continually reshaped the ways humans map the globe.

Importantly, Brotton does not just focus on European cartography. He includes significant contributions from the Islamic world, China and the Americas, emphasizing a more global perspective. His chapter on Japan’s Gy?ki-style maps (17th century) and the Ottoman cartographer Piri Reis challenges Western-centric narratives and broadens the reader’s understanding of how diverse civilizations have approached the act of mapping.

Brotton’s prose is erudite yet accessible, making complex ideas about geography, politics and epistemology comprehensible to a general audience. One comes away with a deeper appreciation not just for maps themselves, but for the ways in which maps have influenced historical events and human self-perception.

In the final chapter, Brotton examines the implications of modern digital mapping technologies, including Google Earth and GPS. He raises thought-provoking questions about surveillance, privacy and the illusion of omniscient objectivity in the digital age. In an era when maps are ubiquitous and often taken for granted, Brotton reminds us that every map is still a choice – a selection of certain data over others, framed by human priorities and limitations.

The book is not just a history of cartography; it is a history of human thought and aspiration. It shows how we have sought to make sense of our surroundings, impose order on chaos and situate ourselves within a vast, often mysterious world. By exploring maps not just as scientific tools but as cultural texts, Brotton invites us to reconsider how we see the world – and how the world has been made visible to us.

Jerry Brotton’s book challenges the illusion of cartographic objectivity and reveals the profound cultural meanings behind the lines and shapes drawn on maps.

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