A stunning, thought-provoking exploration of how maps shape our understanding of the world—featuring over 150 full-color maps in a gorgeous package
Maps are ubiquitous in contemporary life—not just for navigation, but for making sense of our society, our environment, and even ourselves. In an instant, huge datasets can be plotted on command and we can explore faraway places in exacting detail. Yet the new ease and speed of data mapping can often lead to the same problem that has been around for over-simplified maps are used as tools for top-down control.
Cartographer and historian William Rankin argues that it’s time to reimagine what a map can be and how it can be used. Maps are not neutral visualizations of facts They are innately political, defining how the world is divided, what becomes visible and what stays hidden, and whose voices are heard. What matters isn’t the topics or the data, but how maps make arguments about how the world works. And the consequences are enormous. A map’s visual argument can change how cities are designed and how rivers flow, how wars are fought and how land claims are settled, how children learn about race and how colonialism becomes a habit of mind. Maps don’t just show us information—they help construct our world.
Brimming with vibrant maps, including many “radical” maps created by Rankin himself and by other cutting-edge mapmakers, Radical Cartography exposes the consequences of how maps represent boundaries, layers, people, projections, color, scale, and time. Challenging the map as a tool of the status quo, Rankin empowers readers to embrace three unexpected values for the future of uncertainty, multiplicity, and subjectivity. Changing the tools—changing the maps—can change the questions we ask, the answers we accept, and the world we build.
I mean, 3 stars come from the maps alone. I’ve seen some of Rankin’s work before and it is really interesting to hear all of the balancing decisions that go into them. I think especially the chapter surrounding population was really informative.
I wish there was a little less subjective “here’s what I like” in some chapters, especially when discussing like, color and the readability of maps. There was a lot of vague discussion about experiments of how people understand maps, but very little reporting of that. Felt like a strange gap.
I liked this a lot. It’s a great collection of maps, history, and anecdotes, and gives practical perspective on more effective interrogation of any map to understand its argument(s).
the cover design is ugly, though. what’s up with that?
As someone fascinated by maps and atlases, reading Radical Cartography: How Changing Our Maps Can Change Our World by William Rankin feels a bit like being handed the keys to the engine room of cartography. Instead of treating maps as neutral tools for navigation, Rankin argues that every map is an argument about how the world works. The book is both a historical exploration and a provocative manifesto, inviting readers to rethink how maps shape politics, culture, and even our sense of reality.
Rankin’s central thesis is simple but radical: maps are not objective depictions of the world but visual interpretations that reflect social values, political priorities, and cultural assumptions. In fact, he suggests that maps do not merely show the world—they actively help construct it. Decisions about what to include, what to omit, and how to symbolize information shape how societies understand borders, identities, and power structures.
The Political History of Cartography One of the most fascinating parts of Radical Cartography is its exploration of the political history of mapmaking. Rankin demonstrates that cartography has long been intertwined with empire, governance, and social control.
Historically, maps have served as tools of authority. Colonial powers used maps to legitimize territorial claims, often erasing Indigenous boundaries or political systems in favor of European frameworks. In many cases, the background layers of colonial maps displayed rivers and terrain but omitted Indigenous political territories, subtly reinforcing narratives of “empty land.”
Rankin also discusses how early twentieth-century social scientists mapped cities in ways that appeared objective but carried ideological weight. A notable example is sociological mapping in Chicago during the 1920s and 1930s, where maps of racial and social patterns helped solidify ideas about “natural” segregation. These visualizations gave scientific legitimacy to patterns that were deeply shaped by policy and discrimination.
The lesson Rankin draws is clear: maps are political artifacts. Their power comes from the authority they project—when something appears on a map, it often feels factual and inevitable.
The Core Topics of the Book Rankin organizes the book around seven fundamental elements of cartography, each of which shapes how we interpret geographic information.
1. Boundaries Borders on maps often look sharp and natural, but they are usually the result of political negotiations or colonial impositions. Rankin highlights how these boundaries can oversimplify complex cultural landscapes.
2. Layers Modern cartography frequently involves stacking different types of data on top of one another—demographics, infrastructure, ecology. The practice of layering gained prominence during World War II as mapmaking became more systematic and analytical.
3. People Maps can depict populations, migration, or social networks, but the way people are represented can reinforce stereotypes or erase certain groups entirely.
4. Projections Map projections translate the globe onto a flat surface, inevitably distorting size, shape, or distance. The choice of projection influences how viewers perceive the world.
5. Color Color is one of the most powerful yet subtle elements in cartography.
6. Scale A map’s scale determines what becomes visible. A global map might hide local inequalities that become obvious when zooming in.
7. Time Traditional maps freeze a moment in space, but modern cartography increasingly incorporates temporal change—showing how places evolve.
Together, these categories illustrate how every design decision carries meaning.
Color Theory in Cartography Rankin’s discussion of color theory is especially compelling. Colors in maps do more than decorate; they guide perception and emotion.
Warm colors like red or orange often signal urgency or danger, which is why they are commonly used to represent conflict, disease spread, or political opposition. Cooler tones such as blues and greens tend to imply stability, calmness, or natural environments.
Color gradients can also shape interpretation. For example, a map depicting economic inequality might transition from pale yellow to dark red, visually dramatizing disparities. Rankin emphasizes that these choices are never neutral: they influence what viewers see as significant or threatening.
In this sense, cartographic color functions almost like rhetoric—it persuades the viewer before they even realize it.
The “West Wing” Map Moment Rankin’s discussion of map projections echoes one of the most famous pop-culture moments in cartography: the map scene in The West Wing, featuring press secretary C. J. Cregg.
In the episode, activists present the Gall–Peters projection to the White House staff, arguing that the widely used Mercator projection exaggerates the size of Europe and North America while shrinking Africa and South America. The scene humorously shows CJ staring at the unfamiliar map and asking, “Where is France?”
When the clip resurfaced online years later, it spread widely across social media and YouTube, effectively “breaking the internet” among geography and cartography enthusiasts. The moment resonated because it dramatized a core truth of Rankin’s book: every projection tells a story about the world.
The Mercator projection, developed in the sixteenth century for navigation, preserves angles but distorts size. As a result, regions near the poles appear dramatically larger than they really are. Alternative projections like Gall–Peters attempt to preserve relative area instead—but they introduce other distortions. Rankin’s point is that no projection is perfect; each one reflects priorities.
A Radical Future for Maps Ultimately, Rankin argues that cartography should embrace three values: uncertainty, multiplicity, and subjectivity. Instead of pretending that maps are neutral, cartographers should acknowledge their interpretive nature and experiment with new forms of visualization.
For readers who love maps and atlases, this idea is surprisingly liberating. Rather than diminishing the authority of maps, Rankin expands their creative and intellectual potential. Maps can reveal hidden histories, challenge political narratives, and illuminate complex systems.
Final Verdict
Radical Cartography is both intellectually rigorous and visually fascinating. Rankin manages to blend history, design theory, and political analysis into a compelling narrative about the power of maps. For anyone already captivated by atlases and geographic visualization, the book offers a deeper appreciation of how maps shape not just where we are—but how we think about the world.
"First, we must have a look at the map; without a map, political talk is so much claptrap". Leon Trotsky. Maps lie to us. Charts lie to us. Statistics lie to us. William Rankin, cartographer and teacher, urges us to redraw and rethink our planet. Maps have changed the course of American history. Abraham Lincoln kept an unusual map in his office desk drawer throughout the Civil War, depicting the percentage of slaves as part of the Black population in the United States by county, North and South. Why? He wanted to measure the impact abolition would have on the economy, politics and racial demographics of America. This was not mental wandering. Lincoln used this information to exempt the border states, Maryland, Missouri, and Kentucky, from the Emancipation Proclamation in 1863, assuming their slave populations were not all that large. Rankin points out that such a map is not without its controversial aspects. Had Lincoln studied a map of the density of slaves per county, instead of percentage (Lincoln did not understand the difference between the two) he would easily have seen that Maryland contained a significant slave population, close to 90,000 at the start of the war. Lincoln, based on a misreading of his own map, was saving slavery from extinction just a stone's throw away from the White House. Rankin takes this for proof that no map is prima facie objective, every map is political, and the facts contained therein can and should be challenged. The most famous battle of the maps in history is Mercatur versus the Peters projection of the world. Mercatur took it for granted Europe should be the center of the planet, increasing its size to the detriment of Africa and South America. His global map is perfect for justifying colonial ambitions and claims. Peters, reflecting the rise of the Third World after 1960, restored these two continents to a proper perspective, reinforcing Arnold Toynbee's claim that "Europe is only a peninsula of the Asian continent". Mercatur and Peters were drawing political maps, even if they didn't know it. Suppose we consider the globe from the perspective of where major sea and rail road transport hubs are located. This map, reproduced by Rankin, shows some ninety percent of commodities are transported among and between just ten percent of the globe's surface, nearly all in the Norther Hemisphere. Colonialism has simply become neocolonialism. American and European domination of the global economy is still in place. A look at a modern atlas might lead to the conclusion that all 193 independent countries are equally inhabited and viable. Wrong; 93 percent of the world's population lives above the Equator. The global south is a people exporter. American cartography offers vivid clues to the development of the nation, though not always to its credit. A map of lynchings in America shows extralegal murders of Black men and women occurred principally in regions of the South with significant Black farm ownership and recent white migration; in other words, ethnic cleansing. A 1950 map of U.S. religious affiliation depicts South Florida having next to no Catholic residents, just before the transformative wave of Cuban refugees. The U.S.A. illustrated by animal and crop production shows Iowa corn hub and hog butcher to the nation, but a map of educational attainment highlights how Iowa is among the most educated of the fifty states, setting up the political contest between those with a high school degree and college-graduates prevalent in twenty-first century America. Rankin is nor arguing mapmakers deliberately lie. Maps, like charts and statistics, can and do mislead the reader if they are considered the sole truth about its subject. Changing the world through maps means considering more than one topic and one measurement in the search for cartographical truth. Out with certainty, in with diversity. Rankin is the kind of teacher we should all pray to have; he presents facts as a kaleidoscope.
For some books - this one included - it is for some reason infuriating having forgotten how I learned about it. Even though it seems hands down a 99pi thing, it does not feel right. Even more annoyingly, I clearly remember the source saying (writing?) something about how redesigning maps is needed to improve messaging, as for instant maps showing immigration with thick arrows invoke invasion - well, no such thing is discussed here.
In any case, however this book came to my attention, I'm glad it did. Maps have been a source of excitement for me since I was a kid and, in my programming, data analysis job, I always enjoy an opportunity to play with visualising things on maps. Hence, this one was right up my alley.
I already mentioned 99pi and reading this once again brings to life the very special world of people genuinely looking for ways to move mankind forward, evoking names like Stuart Brand and company. Radical Cartography, at least in this book, tries to be radical in the strict sense - rethinking the subject form the roots, rather than trying to shock. The chapters tell stories about elements in mapping that are standard but have shortcomings and advantages. It talks about the history of reading maps, drawing them, how people used them and all that. The reader gets to meet names, big and small, that shaped cartography over centuries.
The maps themselves are of course and indelible part, and what beauties they are. My hardcover version of the book comes on glossy paper which, apart from smelling amazing, also gives the whole thing a twang of luxury (I mostly read paperbacks where images, if any, are black and white historical pictures, so it's not hard to give me that feeling).
All of that gives the reader an opportunity to rethink their relationship to this particular kind of visualisation. What can be shown and how to achieve that, what recipes there are and how to think out of the box. I'm very happy I stumbled upon all this.
I read this book due to my longstanding love of maps. Rankin covers seven aspects to maps — boundaries, layers, people, projections, color, scale, and time — while explaining the meaning of radical cartography, its history, and how cartographers can create maps that make people think.
Throughout the book, Rankin showed the process of mapmaking and map reading in a different light. Instead of viewing them as “crisp, clear, and unambiguous”, maps should be recognized for their errors. Because mapmakers and map readers are inherently subjective, they should acknowledge this subjectivity by "highlighting disagreement or showing multiple answers to the same question". Rankin constructed a cohesive argument that mapmakers of any political persuasion could consider, even though radical cartography is often considered “left-wing”.
This book is written in straightforward language at the university level. Although the sentences are easy to parse, people who do not have a background in cartography or media studies may find themselves confused by the dense content. The beautiful maps throughout the book do a great job illustrating the point and providing breaks to process ideas. I recommend this book to those interested in the recent history of mapmaking, along with seeing a roadmap for where maps are going.
Rankin pulls together a clear and powerful premise for this book, and relentlessly supports it in both visual and textual ways. That premise being (to summarize his words in the conclusion) that the values of monosemy: neutrality, objectivity, and deference to data, have failed even on their own terms (there is no such thing as a single graph which shows everything perfectly, with only one possible interpretation.)
Instead, constructing data with the values of Uncertainty, Multiplicity, and Subjectivity at the helm recognize the natural limitations of each graph. Specially, that each map is an argument with either well shown or hidden assumptions and values baked within it. Clearly recognizing the complexity of the world, and recognizing that each map serves to answer a subset of questions, makes us both better shapers and consumers of data, tackling and answering the right questions with the nuance required of any problem worth tackling.
Unexpected and magnificent. Anyone with an interest in data (and even more so if you DONT have a current interest in data or cartography) should read this. It is transformative.
The author is a hotshot professor at Yale who went to Harvard, so this book is very academic, its eye-catching cover notwithstanding. The author presents this book as a radical departure from all other map books because...he shows more degrees of nuance I guess? I'm not sure exactly how it's supposed to be so radical. In any case, the book turns into a transcript of his intro to cartography class that he teaches at Yale. The author (or at least his presentation) can be a little smug. For example, he will frequently show a map, then show how he improved said map. He even does this once for a map that little kids sent him!
There are a lot of beautiful maps here, but also a lot of somewhat numbing cartographic history, obscure academic language, and smug Ivy-League editorializing.
Radical Cartography is a deep-in-the-weeds look at the history of the politics of map-making. The truth is that even the most benign maps make political and social statements; working from there Rankin explores how the different tools in the cartographer's arsenal (scale, boundary, color, temporality) can be used (and misused) to aim toward truth. The text is absolutely fascinating from start to finish but demands the reader's attention. That later chapters dig into questioning the very nature of spacetime should give readers a good idea of the scope here. Highly recommended for map wonks and the uber-curious.
Really found the analysis of cartography fascinating and loved all the examples of non-conventional maps. I also found a lot of parallels as they relate to plans and other architectural diagrams. There were some times when long sections seemed too devoted to taking down specific map makers or fabricating political intentions out of mundane techniques. But I suppose that’s where the “Radical” part comes in. Overall, found it really interesting. Highly recommend for map nerds.
I was disappointed when I finished this, I was hoping for something along the lines of Edward R. Tufte, designing maps that bring clarity to new problems. Instead I got a modern history of maps, most of them underwhelming.
It did serve one good purpose, there are a couple of newer Tufte books I haven't read yet.
This book offers a good source of inspiration through its many beautifully designed maps. However, the author’s concept of radical cartography never became entirely clear to me partly because of the book’s academic tone. The values he proposes seem compelling and well structured in theory but difficult to put into practice.
It’s a challenging but fascinating read with captivating printed maps. the author does an amazing job breaking down complex topics in the field. The color chapter blew my mind. I’ll never look at maps the same way again. A must-read for anyone interested in history, social history, the relationship between geography and society, what maps reveal and conceal (either implicitly or explicitly), and more. It’s also a great coffee table book. Beautifully packaged.