From the famed Atlantis to the remote Rupes Nigra, islands have long held our they are locales isolated from ordinary life, lurking in unexplored corners of the globe and thus full of undisclosed mysteries. At times, however, our fascination with islands has bled into reality, as real maps bear the coordinates of fictional lands and travelogues tell tall tales of their inhabitants, their natural wonders, or their treasures. In Phantom Islands , Dirk Liesemer tells the stories of thirty of these fantastical islands. Beginning with their supposed discovery, he recreates their fabled landscapes, the voyages that attempted to verify their existence, and, ultimately, the moment when their existence was finally disproven. Spanning oceans and centuries, these curious tales are a chronicle of human lust for discovery and wealth.
Beautifully illustrated with colored maps and charts, Phantom Islands shows the cunning of imposters and frauds, the earnestness of explorers searching for knowledge, and the pleasure that can be found in our willingness to deceive and to be deceived.
However, after the first half dozen islands or so this became dull and predictable, lacking even a sprinkling of the humor that made those other books so enjoyable. Basically, it's a litany of Mad Libs or "Create Your Own Adventure"-type stories: "In (year between 1500-1850), the island of (name) was spotted by (sailor/explorer) in the (North/South Atlantic, North/South Pacific) Ocean, and then seen again in (later year) by (later sailor/explorer); after which it was never found again."
Mildly interesting to learn that for a long time both Baja California and Korea were thought to be islands…but otherwise, sorry to say there's very little here to recommend.
Every week there’s a column in the New York Times Book Review called “By the Book” in which literate celebrities share their reading secrets, and every week the interview begins with the question “What books are on your nightstand?” I’m usually amused by the answers, which often feature titles of solemn weighty tomes. On my nightstand I only keep books that will swiftly sweep me away from the day just passed and launch me into reverie, the blissful antechamber to untroubled sleep. The last couple weeks those books have been two Penguin classics – One Hundred Poets, One Poem Each: A Treasury of Classical Japanese Verse and The Tales of Ise, brilliantly translated and annotated by Peter MacMillan. And this completely marvelous book Phantom Islands by the German writer Dirk Liesemer, translated by Peter Lewis.
If you are the sort of reader who never outgrew your wonder at maps, atlases, globes; if you’re an aficionado of imaginary places; if you’re a denizen of that charmed circle of armchair travelers; this is a book for you. Leisemer has given us accounts by explorers, sometimes from hundreds or even thousands of years ago, of islands discovered then lost because in fact they never existed. With each account we get a map – the coordinates, position and shape of these islands, often with a description of their flora and fauna. The book is beautifully published, illustrated in shades of ultramarine, printed on fine paper with a ribbon bookmark, a book of tactile pleasure to accompany the spindrift of imagination.
It’s also an impressive feat of research, mostly invisible to the reader. “If my research had been forced to rely solely on works in municipal and university libraries, then this book would have never have seen the light of day,” Liesemer writes in his Author’s Note. “Fortunately, quite a number of centuries-old primary sources - or at the very least extracts from them - are now available on the internet. In addition, virtual specialist libraries hold many logbooks of explorers and seafarers, or even academic treatises containing excerpts from logbooks.” This is all music to my sleepy brain.
A perfect book of its kind, whatever that kind is. Put it on the same select shelf as the lovely Atlas of Remote Islands by Judith Schalansky, the atlases of Rebecca Solnit, Robert Harbison’s Eccentric Spaces and if you can still find them, that fantastic set of tiny travel books Penguin Great Journeys.
There is a place in my soul or heart for mythical things that don't exist. I have a great fondness for islands, real or not so real. This is a great book of these mythical island sightings. I'm also fond of maps. I have a National Geographic map from 1943 that shows the physical location of at least two of these non existent places. (Maria Theresa Reef and Sandy Island).