From the voyages of discovery to the digital age, maps have
been essential to five hundred years of American history. Whether made as
weapons of war or instruments of reform, as guides to settlement or tools of
political strategy, maps invest information with meaning by translating it into
visual form. Maps captured what people knew, but also what they thought they
knew, what they hoped for, and what they feared. As a result, maps remain rich
yet largely untapped sources of history. This premise animates A History of
America in 100 Maps.
Organized into nine chronological chapters, the book examines
both large-scale shifts but also little-known stories through maps that range from
the iconic to the unfamiliar. Readers will encounter maps of political conflict
and exploration, but also those whom we rarely consider mapmakers, such as soldiers
on the front, Native American tribal leaders, and the first generation of young
girls to be formally educated.
The book can be read as a continuous narrative, though
readers may page through the book to discover a particular image that captures
their imagination. Some will be drawn to the map used by the British Crown to
negotiate the boundaries of the new United States at the end of the
Revolutionary War. Others will be riveted by a map drawn to study—and stem—the
rampant gang behavior in Chicago during the 1920s. Each map is accompanied by a
brief essay that lays out its context, establishes its significance, and connects
it to the larger story. Through these maps, we gain a greater appreciation for
the contingencies of the past, but also the degree to which maps were
integrated into all aspects of American life.
The book is now in its third printing. What has most
surprised me about this success is the wide and diverse audience it has reached—a
direct function of the many strange and appealing images that I was able to
share.
[T]he Holocaust transformed our whole way of thinking about war and heroism. War is no longer a proving ground for heroism in the same way it used to be. Instead, war now is something that we must avoid at all costs—because genocides often take place under the cover of war. We are no longer all potential soldiers (though we are that too), but we are all potential victims of the traumas war creates. This, at least, is one important development in the way Western populations envision war, even if it does not always predominate in the thinking of our political leaders.Carolyn J. Dean, Interview of February 01, 2011
The dominant premise in evolution and economics is that a person is being loyal to natural law if he or she attends to self’s interest and welfare before being concerned with the needs and demands of family or community. The public does not realize that this statement is not an established scientific principle but an ethical preference. Nonetheless, this belief has created a moral confusion among North Americans and Europeans because the evolution of our species was accompanied by the disposition to worry about kin and the collectives to which one belongs.Jerome Kagan, Interview of September 17, 2009
In a nutshell
From the voyages of discovery to the digital age, maps have been essential to five hundred years of American history. Whether made as weapons of war or instruments of reform, as guides to settlement or tools of political strategy, maps invest information with meaning by translating it into visual form. Maps captured what people knew, but also what they thought they knew, what they hoped for, and what they feared. As a result, maps remain rich yet largely untapped sources of history. This premise animates A History of America in 100 Maps.
Organized into nine chronological chapters, the book examines both large-scale shifts but also little-known stories through maps that range from the iconic to the unfamiliar. Readers will encounter maps of political conflict and exploration, but also those whom we rarely consider mapmakers, such as soldiers on the front, Native American tribal leaders, and the first generation of young girls to be formally educated.
The book can be read as a continuous narrative, though readers may page through the book to discover a particular image that captures their imagination. Some will be drawn to the map used by the British Crown to negotiate the boundaries of the new United States at the end of the Revolutionary War. Others will be riveted by a map drawn to study—and stem—the rampant gang behavior in Chicago during the 1920s. Each map is accompanied by a brief essay that lays out its context, establishes its significance, and connects it to the larger story. Through these maps, we gain a greater appreciation for the contingencies of the past, but also the degree to which maps were integrated into all aspects of American life.
The book is now in its third printing. What has most surprised me about this success is the wide and diverse audience it has reached—a direct function of the many strange and appealing images that I was able to share.