I bought a new world map last week. An antique-looking one from National Geographic that has the continents and islands in as close a proportion as you can get when trying to put a globe on a flat surface, and all the latest border changes and whatnot (the latest when the map went to print, anyway). It’s hanging up above my couch now, and it looks fantastic.
I like maps. I had another big world map when I was a kid. It would be useless nowadays, since it had East and West Germany and the USSR on it, but it was current at the time, had a lot of bright(ish) colors, and I learned a lot. I thought it was great. I was a dorky kid.
But the new map! It’s great, and arrived in perfect time, since I was in the middle of Simon Garfield’s book, On the Map, which covers the history of maps, and how their design and accuracy shapes how we view the world around us. I thought it was great.
Did I mention I like maps? Yeah. I also like books about maps.
I’m a dorky adult.