The Tattooed Map

by Barbara Hodgson

At one time, Lydia and Christopher were lovers as well as travel companions; now they are merely fellow travelers. While on a trip to Morocco, Lydia notices a small mark on her hand which begins to grow and spread in thin, tattooed lines that only she can see. Eventually, the marks reveal themselves to be a detailed map of an unknown land, and Lydia begins to understand that these marks, invisible to all but herself and a mysterious Moroccan man named Layesh, will lead her on a strange and perilous journey. The Tattooed Map is Lydia's journal of the days and weeks leading up to her disappearance. Each page contains her daily experiences--her growing shock and fear as the map unfolds itself, her deteriorating relationship with Christopher, her conversations with strangers--as well as the memorabilia she collects along the way: maps and postcards, train tickets and postage stamps, lists of books she's reading and souvenirs she's bought--all pasted in the margins of the journal.

When Lydia disappears midway through the journey, her friend Christopher takes up the journal, using it first as a means of recording his search for her and then, increasingly, as a clue to her fate. A combination travelogue, mystery, and ghost story, The Tattooed Map is a mesmerizing, physically beautiful book. Each page is gloriously decorated with the kinds of fascinating flotsam and jetsam that travelers find cluttering their pockets and notebooks at the end of a trip, making The Tattooed Map a book you'll want to return to again and again.

Genres: Fiction, Fantasy, Travel, Art, Mystery, Magical Realism, Adventure

120 pages, Hardcover

First published August 1, 1995

About the author

Barbara Hodgson is a book designer with a degree in archeology and a diploma in graphic design. She began her career in book design by working for Douglas & McIntyre, moving from freelance designer to art director prior to taking on freelance work for other publishers and ultimately forming the book-packaging company Byzantium Books with Nick Bantock in 1993.

Designing books led to writing books: Hodgson is the author of No Place for a Lady, Dreaming of East, and Italy Out of Hand, all published by Greystone Books, and several other highly praised non-fiction books. She is also the author of four acclaimed illustrated novels Lives of Shadows, Hippolyte’s Island, The Sensualist, and The Tattooed Map.

Hodgson’s books are unique in that they combine her writing with a multitude of illustrations of various types drawn from a wide range of sources, including engravings, lithographs, photographs, stereo-cards, postcards, movie stills, and pulp magazine and novel covers. These days, the flea market is the consummate collector’s primary source of research and inspiration.

Barbara Hodgson lives in Vancouver.

Reviews

[SarahC · Rating 2 out of 5]

I believe I understood what the writer intended with this odd, offbeat story. That is, if it IS a metaphysical story of the beauty and experience of travel and how that is wrapped up with our emotional connections to each other. However, it didn't work for me because I couldn't connect with the characters.

It seems sadly ordinary to compare this book with the Griffin and Sabine books, but how could you not? I love to experience books like this, however, Griffin and Sabine was a much better experience than The Tatooed Map.

[Jared Della Rocca · Rating 3 out of 5]

Depending on the summation you give of this book, it could be classified as a sci-fi novel (appearance of a map tattooed on an arm), romance (travelers were once romantic before fading), or some weird variation thereof. But focusing on either of these plot narratives misses what is really the draw for this book---the graphics. The book is written as a journal narrative of the two travelers, and as they travel around, they add photos, notes, maps, etc. that you would expect to see in the journal of a frequent traveler. Little notes about good prices on a hotel, addresses to mail photos to, train schedules and the like fill the margins of the book. So as interesting as the book may be (and it wasn't that great, poorly finished) I think the author really took the time to make sure the method she used for telling the story fit appropriately. And that will help you enjoy what otherwise may be a somewhat bland novel.

[Karith Amel · Rating 2 out of 5]

One of the oddest books I've ever read.

Strange, visually beautiful, intriguing, and utterly unsatisfying. But somehow also appropriately itself.

More travel journal than novel, it is filled with luscious descriptions of Moroccan towns, and so much lovely Arabic in the margins. I wonder if I could get away with writing a book like this -- a book that is an unfinished love letter to travel, and mystery, and the potential of unfinished stories (and the unfinished journeys of which they tell). What would happen if we gave ourselves up to them? To mystery and madness and the strange unknown?

Who's to say?

[Mir · Rating 3 out of 5]

The strong point of this little book is the descriptions of the places visited, but the author does the same thing better in her non-fiction work Trading in Memories: Travels Through a Scavenger's Favorite Places. Otherwise it is rather weak plot-wise and the multimedia novel is done better in Nick Bantock's Griffin & Sabine - An Extraordinary Correspondence.

[Mark · Rating 3 out of 5]

If you want to read a book about unlikable characters embroiled in inexplicable events that never reach resolution, this is the book for you. It does, however, look very good, which makes me wish the author had given the narrative the same level of care she devoted to the illustrations and graphic design.

[Deb · Rating 4 out of 5]

What an odd but interesting book, full of photographs, tickets, marginalia, and written as a travel journal which is reflected in the lack of page numbers. A time travelesque feeling about the meeting between Layesh and Lydia. Odd but enjoyable.

Tattoos are indelible marks which might be a metaphor for life or travel in this story, what happens to us is indelibly marked on us.

[Shivanee Ramlochan · Rating 4 out of 5]

Excerpted from the full review:

"Lovers of ephemera, of detailed dealings in flotsam and jetsam: The Tattooed Map will be a gold-starred destination on your literary sojourns. The novel is an archivist’s dream, bordered and fringed with annotations of addresses, grammatical conjugations in foreign tongues, pencilled-in calendars, rows of photograph details, sketches and schedules, of tattered post-its and sepia postcards. Nor does what would ‘normally’ be themed marginalia live merely in the margins of Barbara Hodgson’s freshman offering--maps, leaflets, full-page illustrations unfurl and explode across the shared journal. That which is pictorally visual carries as much importance as what is scripted. Hodgson has achieved an enviable balance of drawing us in through text and art. (I urge the furrow-browed cynic not to think of the concept that fuels The Tattooed Map as a carefully contrived, convenient marriage between scrapbooking and Photoshop, but rather like the brainchild-project of an author and an artist on vacation. Then, marvel at the fact that Hodgson is both author and artist on this lavish endeavour.)

I read the book in one fevered setting--to fully embrace this confessional rant/purloined pocketbook of a pair of lost and longing travellers, a first, urgent reading feels like the most authentic approach. The mysteries of Lydia’s branding with a growingly elaborate cartographic plan, and her subsequent disappearance, held me in their thrall. I was unprepared, however, for the emotionally satisfying journey of Christopher’s stilted, half-crazed forays into unearthing odd truths, in his quest to reclaim his missing friend. Somewhere along this sepia-studded, map-fragmented journey, my mind declared itself a willing and active participant in the baffling mystery at the core of The Tattooed Map. I hungered for an answer that would stymie and spellbind me, a plot machination of hefty and impressive weight."

You can continue reading my full review of The Tattooed Map at Novel Niche.

[J.T. Therrien · Rating 4 out of 5]

Barbara Hodgson's first novel, The Tattooed Map, is a wonderful story in the style of Nick Bantock. It is published, not surprisingly, by Raincoast Books, the publishers of Bantock's Griffin and Sabine trilogy.

Hodgson's The Tattooed Map is about a couple of Canadians who spend much of their time traveling the world. Lydia is a pack rat who talks to almost everyone she meets, takes photographs of people and places, and keeps track of everything in a notebook/scrapbook. She learns languages, studies maps of their destinations, and plans an itinerary. Christopher, a former boyfriend, is the only person in the world with whom she feels comfortable traveling. He is, of course, her direct opposite. He doesn't care so much about traveling to a particular destination as being in motion. He is neat and tidy, and could care less about local customs and languages.

When Lydia mysteriously disappears in Casablanca, Christopher is left to search her scrapbook for any clues. By sifting through photographs, maps, diagrams and Lydia's accumulated detritus of receipts and stubs, Christopher learns more about himself than about Lydia. When he finally unravels the impossible nature of Lydia's disappearance, no one is more surprised than Christopher to discover the truth.

Fans of Bantock's work will thoroughly enjoy Hodgson's The Tattooed Map.

[Jennifer · Rating 3 out of 5]

The artwork and cartography are beautiful. It is written as if we are vouers of a travel diary. I have to say I am a succour for these types of books. The characters develop and richen throughout the book,( which is a mystery/fantasy plot-line) but then the ending just leaves us as if there is a whole half a book still to be written. There journey has just begun...
Perhaps that is the point!?

[Serafina Sands · Rating 5 out of 5]

Shortly after David's sister died, I found her copy of this book in my house. I think I would have found it eerily beautiful under any circumstances, but the author's coincidental dedication to David and the way it showed up like a message gave it particularly profound impact. I reread it periodically and find it entrancing every time.

[Emilee · Rating 4 out of 5]

Odd and whimsical. A little bit travel journal, a little bit mystery, a little bit fantasy. The ending was a touch unsatisfying, but also opened up all kinds of possibilities for new stories. Very quick read.

[Matt · Rating 4 out of 5]

Not as good as Griffin & Sabine, but a fun read.

[Hell · Rating 4 out of 5]

The journal made me want to go to Morocco and get a map tattoo.

What a luxurious book.

[Sam · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a strange little book written as a travel journal, first by Lydia then by Chris, as they tour around part of Europe and Northern Africa where events take a turn for the mysterious as Lydia disappears after writing of a map that gradually appears on her arm, a map that Chris does not see either in the flesh or in her pictures. Following her disappearance, the journal is taken up by Chris and talks of his search for her and his attempts at solving the mystery of her disappearance. While the story is not fully fleshed out in terms of narration (why would it be, its a journal) it is beautifully supported by inserts, add-ins and extra notes of a kind that anyone who keeps a travel journal (or any journal) would be familiar with. This is an odd little book that I absolutely loved, despite the unresolved ending (something which normally annoys the hell out of me!).

[Marne Wilson · Rating 4 out of 5]

I have no idea how this book got on my to-read shelf in the first place, and I thought it was totally weird while I was reading it, but I keep thinking of people I need to tell to read it, so that must mean that I liked it. This is an example of the genre of book that pretends to be a diary that you have found, and you must puzzle over it to get the meeting. The surface-level story is of a couple traveling through North Africa together. I enjoyed the story very much on that level. It made me want to travel to all the places described. The fantasy/magic realism story of the tattooed map was much less successful, in my opinion. I would have liked the book just as much without it, to be honest.

[Tessa · Rating 2 out of 5]

This book is quite beautiful, but the plot was weak. If the ending had been clever instead of open-ended it would have tied the entire book together, but instead it left the book very flat. It reminded me of Griffin and Sabine but not as good. I really enjoyed hearing about Chris from Lydia's point of view and then reading from his perspective--it was interesting. Still, kind of a lame book.

[™ · Rating 3 out of 5]

quick read with lovely collages, though it would’ve been more compelling had it been more of a love story on Lydia’s part

[Serge · Rating 4 out of 5]

Visually enthralling book. I still prefer Theroux when it comes to travelogues that decenter. I read this book in order to record a podcast with one of my juniors. Looking forward to the conversation. Here are my notes:
I talk endlessly to people we meet having spent hours on foreign grammars learning how to count to 10 in dozens of languages; I asked for directions and for advice. Christopher, on the other hand, loathes speaking to strangers Even in our own tongue - he derives pleasure in excluding contact with people from his experience of travel. I've given up questioning the way he acts in my behavior, whatever it happens to be, wouldn't make any difference to him. anyways we always find ourselves in countries upon which we both agree and where we both thrive.

My reading has ill prepared me for this new country itself: the accounts of the colonial conquerors and Victorian Travelers along with the fiction in the Poetry have left me with the conflicting senses of anticipation and ignorance.

Travel for us has few barriers. we carry passports from a neutral Western country; our religion, when we are required to write it on embarkation cards, offends no one. we travel with enough money to satisfy even the most disagreeable customs agents, and our plane tickets are never one way.

My made up stories have become so vivid that it's breaking my heart when someone gets turned back, and it's a personal Victory when another is waved on through. and so many are turned back. the last one is through now and three armed Customs guards with rigid shoulders are going in to check the washrooms. I guess our line will start shuffling along soon Chris sat down on the concrete floor among all the cigarette butts, propped himself up against his pack, and probably fell asleep I won't wake him so we are really moving he slept on the plane, he slept all night at the hotel in london, you slept on the bus, he's sleeping now. he really is a wonder.

Every scene challenges reality. from the palm trees silhouetted against the sky to the fantasy, sugar cube architecture framed by Perfect vistas of the mediterranean. those lucky enough to be born here must sometimes- if they ever think about places like Canada - shake their heads at the thought of the dampness and cold and darkness of our world.

The flea bites seem to have subsided. although the area is still very itchy and very red and there are no bumps left at all. what is curious is that the red area seems to form a design of some sort. I pointed out the pattern to chris, who only wants to know if I have any more bites. the cuff of my stiff cotton shirt brushes constantly against my skin and drives me up the wall. at least the dryness of the heat makes this clothing bearable.

Today I asked see why he travels. it had never before occurred to me to ask him. either I took it for granted that we shared the same reasons even though it's apparent that we do anything but or else I was afraid of his reply. he answered that all those some people in you, including me, travel because of their infinite capacity to be interested, he traveled because of a desire for movement. I didn't comment- I want to think that over. but it strikes me as being a particularly honest statement.

I haven't dreamed at all since we've come here. Chris spends half of each morning telling me of his dreams which is quite a novelty for both him and for me. he says he usually doesn't remember his dreams. I'm jealous; I miss my dreams and I told him so he just grinned at me and said, " there's only room enough for one dreamer in these beds.”

… I tried out a few of the rudimentary Arabic phrases I've been learning. the gratification one feels in response to the effort is phenomenal. I've had a numbers satisfying conversations, and if the Western notion of friendship wasn't as austere as it is, I could say that I've already made a number of friends. hospitality is generous here and sincere invitations to homes for dinner or tea are readily handed out.

[Rabai] She stared openly at me, so I met her gays, smiled, and took the opportunity to search her face. Rabai showed no hints of embarrassment or discomfort. She had an open and warm face that fluctuated between a sober expression bordering on impassivity and a wildly impossible grin. This sudden shift from one to the other without pauses at frowns or Smiles or smirks got me thinking that you probably had one other expression worth watching out for– that of a virulent temper.. After what must have been half a minute of this Mutual face scouring we both burst out laughing.

He spoke to me in a mixture of English and French as he examined the pattern, tracing its form with his clean and rather feminine fingernails, and as he spoke, the air in the cafe seemed to change, becoming denser. the other patrons began to fade away and yet the talk around kept growing louder and louder, surrounding us in a cocoon of noise. he unravel the story, slowly, like a reluctant insomnia. the steady, monotonous voice so much like my own thoughts– repetitious, relentless, unforgiving. I panicked as his finger traced round and round the tender skin of my wrist and try to pull my hand away. his grip tighten and I heard him say, quotation mark only your skin and your tears will allow you this journey. " he finally released my hand and carefully, gently pull the cloth back over the wrist. and then he placed his own left hand, fingers played, on the table top with the tips of his thumb and index finger of his right hand he raised his own cuff revealing similar markings. I could feel the blood pounding in my ears, and I thought the instinct to touch his skin. as he pulls down his shirt sleeve, the air cleared, the conversations around us resumed a normal pitch. I wanted to ask him about the map tattooed on his arm but I felt as though I'd already been told and that although it was very important, I didn't or couldn't yet understand it.

Either the young Hustlers have started to recognize us or we are getting Slayer in our movements. whichever, we now walk on hindrance through all the sections of the city.

While we were dozing about the cafe this afternoon, I remembered to ask see what he meant by saying that he traveled because of his love of motion. He said “ I remember what you're referring to, but I didn't say motion, I said movement.” " What's the difference ,” I asked. He didn't reply so I repeated my question. He said rather impatiently, “it doesn't matter what the difference is and anyway it doesn't matter what I said I didn't mean it.” What's that supposed to mean? I let the whole thing drop

I can't believe that she hasn't said anything about the first design. is it not visible? is it visible only to me? am I crazy? I've turned this into a game, to see how long it will take for the questions to come up. a simple comment like, is your hand still bothering you would go a long way. who cares anyway? if I told Chris that I was worried about it, he just come up with some practical explanation and make me feel like a fool. this is my problem, my secret, and has nothing to do with anyone else but me. Layesh knows what this tattoo means he told me, I know he did. if only I could remember. I don't know what's happening to me. all I can do is wait to see what happens next. I'll photograph my hand again.

Why do I go off on my own? I just get into trouble. my hand is bandaged up and I have a bruise on my right Temple and a headache that would Wake the Dead if it could scream. but I have to write this down before I forget. I wandered into the suq section of the north of the city center, or rather pathetic excuse for a market, which is a parent even if one is unaware of its Origins as a French creation. However, outside the market proper I found far more interesting makeshift markets, clearly set up for daily necessities and not for tourists. they are remarkable, seemingly made up of people, produce, and products from everywhere in morocco, not just one city or region the spice and medicine and made my mouth drop: not only were there the animal skins that we had seen in Fez but there were also whole, dead, stuffed lizards, gazelle heads, antlers and stacks of cages full of live tortoises. and not just one or two shots but shop after shop - small Shanty huts, identical at first glance but really quite individual with their repugnant yet captivating wears. a large common noisy crowd formed around a speaker at the outskirts and I naturally gravitated to see what was going on. I stood for some minutes at the edge of the crowd and then lost interest. political, or something. but as I turned away I was caught off balance by a surge in the crowd and was pushed against an iron grading set into the wall of a store. my first instinct wasn't a fear, but to try and keep the camera from hitting the wall or jamming into the bars. then as I held on to the great another push from the crowd swept me along, ripping the skin off the back of my left hand. It was terrible and frightening to be so helpless. I fell down and I hit my head on something. couple of Moroccan women and a Young Man rushed over to me and picked me up. they took me to a nearby pharmacy where I was given endless Cups of Tea and an arm length of bandages.

The map is now growing visibly, I can see it, and it has crept above the elbow. I'm spending the afternoon sitting by myself in the hotel room just staring at it. I thought they getting away from the glare on the streets, from the pretensive conversation with chris, from the pressure of the hustlers, it would give me some time to think. but I'm just sitting and watching the tangle of lines on my skin. It's beautiful, but it's ugly too, like the veins and arteries that you can trace on the inside of your wrist. my arm no longer belongs to me. it's become another thing - to be admired and studied but not a functional object. it no longer carries my watch; feels too precious to be made to hold things and I can't bear to touch myself in case it spreads even further. as I become detached from it, I can admire and appreciate its physical Beauty as though it were a map drawn out over months of exploration and study, but the moment I remember it's mine, a part of me, I reel with nausea.

When Abderrahman showed her the journal she read the name and address, nodded, pulled out one of the sheets of paper, a letter, and instead of getting upset, she smiled. A really contented smile like she's been given a wonderful gift. she got up with great difficulty, and she was still holding on to the box, leaned towards me over the low table in the center of the room, and said something - Allen said she blessed me. Then she reached across, took my hand lightly in her own dry, thin one, pressed it almost imperceptibly, and released it, raising her hand to her lips and then down to her breast. Then she left the room.

The enlargements again show an unmarked left hand. yet she took very careful photographs of the hand and in one case must have had someone help her. I borrowed a magnifying glass at the film lab to see if there's any Trace at all. I asked the technician to look at the negatives to see if there was anything that was too faint to print. he couldn't see anything. what on Earth was she seeing.

Every once in a while someone walks by the aisle that I'm sheltered in. but I never realized until they are just past and if I glance up I get only a glimpse, if I see anything at all. the air moves, footsteps echo, a pencil clatter is on the floor. I got a queer Sensation that I'm waiting in the library expressly for Lydia, and with every passing shadow I raise my head in order to see her, to call out to her to say, “I'm over here. Take a look at what I found.”

The hair on my neck is standing on end. I found an account by a man who travels through Fez in the early 1940s. He related a story of meeting A muslim, a cafe owner, who had just returned from mecca. this man told the traveler that soon after he arrived in mecca, he noticed that he'd been mysteriously tattooed on his arm and that, after much thought, he interpreted the tattoo as the story of his life. the pattern of the tattoo was, according to the writer, in the form of a map, beginning at the wrist and climbing up the arm. the cafe owner had, the writer continued, told no one in his family that this map had appeared of its own accord. he told them that he had done it while he was away. to them this was shameful enough. The Traveler was clearly impressed with this story; occupied several pages of his account of Fez and ended with an account of the Moroccan’s plans to leave Fez and follow the map. for by that point the map had grown Beyond his life and had begun to show a new future. the nameless Cafe owner took pains, according to the writer, to insist that this had nothing to do with his religion; he was a devout muslim, but he's also a man of the world. he was not searching for any meaning to his life with his family and his Cafe and his friends, his life was as complete as any. but it had to do with his insatiable desire to see the world. and anyone who had such a desire had to know which way to go. those luckily enough to have the way pointed out to them would have to follow the route or lose the chance forever.

You formally introduced himself although I know we both realize there was no need. he told me, in a cold, hard voice that his name was Layesh Boussalem, and he said that he'd been waiting for me with a message from lydia. with that he yanked the sleeve of your shirt up to his elbow with a force that ripped off the button of the cuff. there, expose on his tightly muscled arm, was a tattoo similar to the one in Lydia's photos, but more extensive, more complicated, more worn.

[Licha · Rating 1 out of 5]

What!? I just finished this snoozer of a book and what a disappointment. I kept waiting for the end to justify my trudging through such a boring book and NOTHING! I don’t understand what the purpose of this story was. We need to pay more attention to our partner? Is that what it was? Why so much snooze fest travelogue just to get this message across, IF that’s what the reader was supposed to take from this story? I feel like I missed something along the way.

Visually, the book is beautiful. It is written as a journal in the “altered book” style. The clippings within the book though don’t add much to the story. I would find it hard to believe that if someone were to keep a travel journey, they would stick just random newspaper clippings to decorate their book. The story is about a couple who used to live together but are now just friends. They travel for what seems to be a living, although it is never quite clarified exactly what either one does, other than the fact that Chris, the guy, buys furniture and oddities from the towns they visit for wealthy customers and that is where his source of income comes from. Chris and Lydia are complete opposites. Chris mostly seems to ignore her. During one of their stays at an inn, Lydia gets some flea bites (or so she believes) that start turning into a tattoo. The tattoo keeps growing into what looks like a map, all across her arm. And who is the mysterious man that seems to appear wherever Lydia is? Sounds quite mysterious, but it really isn’t. The mystery man never gets explained, the reason for the tattoo doesn’t either. Just a terrible book. I can’t even recommend it on the visuals alone, because as beautiful as the book is to look at, the graphics are nothing to brag about. Usually I will pass the book onto another reader, but I will skip on this one. I’d be terribly ashamed to put someone through such misery.

[Alanna · Rating 3 out of 5]

I was drawn in by the maps. I'm a geographer, I'm a sucker for maps. The book was interesting, I like the idea, but:
I strongly disliked one of the two main characters. I didn't like her voice, I thought she was trying too hard to be interesting. I thought she sounded like a flighty nitwit. I couldn't believe for a second that she was a researcher, especially since she never worked. She didn't have any depth, just bouncing from random stranger to random stranger, taking pictures and trying to sound philosophical about it. It turned out I really liked the other character, though. His background and story make sense. I can believe he's a real person.
It's written like a journal. There are lots of random things "glued" to the pages. I wasn't sure if they were important or not, and eventually decided they're distracting. I don't care how much they spent at different places, or peoples' addresses. I may have been less annoyed by it if I didn't dislike the character who was pasting it all in there. Overall, the journal idea is cute, but for me it was a failed experiment.
It's a short book, or I think I would've given up on it after 5 pages or so. The main voice of the book is annoying. The book got interesting about halfway through...and then ended. I'd read a sequel if the female character played a minor role, if any.
I'd try another book by Hodgson. She wrote the male character believably.

[Lori Anderson · Rating 4 out of 5]

This book reminds me a lot of the "Griffin and Sabine" books, what with its beautiful drawings, maps, photographs, and icons all over the thick, glossy white pages. The story even has a twist that sucks you in and captivates your imagination.

The book relates the story of Christopher and Lydia, once lovers but now comfortable and compatible traveling companions. Both are well-versed at obscure travel, travel that doesn't include a Hyatt or Hilton at the end of the trail, and this book takes us through Northern Africa to Morocco.

The book is Lydia's journal, chronicling her travels, her deteriorating relationship with Chris, and a strange tattoo that appears and grows upon her hand -- invisible only to her and a mysterious man she meets in a cafe.

I won't tell you any more, because the ending was, to me, the best part. For some, it may not end with enough finality, but I think it ends on the perfect note for those of us who are travelers not just on real soil, but in spirit and heart.

Lori Anderson

My Blog

[Roland Volz · Rating 3 out of 5]

Not sure what I expected from this novel. I don't usually read the more literary fiction because it doesn't appeal to me, but this one is probably closest to speculative fiction anyway.

The story is somewhat spoiled from the back cover. If you hoped to learn more about what happens to the protagonists beyond the back cover, you will be sorely disappointed. There are plenty of hints of possibility, but that's it.

I liked it, but I didn't love it. I think it could have used one or two more passes through the editor/author process. The experience of reading the story is greatly enhanced by the marginalia: photos, maps, notations, and other ephemera designed to make the book look more like a person's journal. In fact, I originally rated it higher, until I considered the story absent the marginalia. By itself, it's not as strong.

[Alison · Rating 3 out of 5]

Perhaps I read The Tattooed Map too fast, but the travel journal format, the insistent vagueness, the endlessly unanswered questions, and an ending that is too similar to Griffin and Sabine felt more gimmicky to me than clever or enchanting. The book didn't make much sense (and let me emphasize that as an avid fantasy reader, I delight in suspending my disbelief), and I finished it disappointed, but not totally bereft. I did come away with a stirred sense of adventure and the feeling that I had been on a brief armchair journey, and sometimes that is more important than a satisfying resolution or a plot that makes sense.

[Rosminah · Rating 5 out of 5]

I went through my Sabine and Griffin phase in the mid-90s. The tattooed map is a similar srotytelling genre that combines ephemera with a mysterious storyline and a leap of faith. This book, in particular, appealed to my senses because I was already involved in some fieldwork in Moorish Spain and Morocco. In fact, it's what helped solidify that I would complete some of my studies in Morocco.
No spoilers, other than what I've already written, but I can say the twist gave me goosebumps. Even the second time reading it. It pulls at the heartstrings of those suffering from wanderlust.

[Jenessa · Rating 4 out of 5]

I picked this book up at "A Novel Idea" bookstore in Lincoln, Nebraska. I had no idea what it was about and I really enjoyed not knowing anything going into it. The book is written as a journal. Lydia, the journal writer, has an incredible talent for journaling. As her and her friend Chris travel from London towards Morocco, she keeps mementoes, maps, notes, and glues them to the journal pages. The book is not only beautiful to look at but the story is also compelling.

[Leslea · Rating 5 out of 5]

Absolutely brilliant!!! Love this kind of book, narration and interesting photos, sketches etc...
Great story of a woman and her male travelling partner touring with a tattooed map slowly forming on her hand and creeping up her arm - she eventually disappears leaving her journal behind and her companion trying to find her and decipher all her journal entries, photos etc...
Loved it!!!

[DoctorM · Rating 4 out of 5]

A lovely enigmatic illustrated tale... Hodgson's use of marginalia and found illustrations is wonderful. A novel that's in some ways in the same tradition as "The Sheltering Sky", though far more dream-like and haunting.

[Deb (Readerbuzz) Nance · Rating 3 out of 5]

A man and woman travel to Morocco. The woman keeps a diary. She begins to see that a map is appearing on her hand. She disappears. The man tries to find her.




Much cooler than I’m describing here, with lots of maps and bus ticket stubs and drawings and side notes.

[Lora Dudding · Rating 2 out of 5]

Bit by fleas, or the travel bug? So who is Layesh and who/what/where is he, or Lydia for that matter. This book was just weird and bizarre. The story had no resolution and no purpose for being. The maps and ephemera were interesting. I just wish it all connected and made sense in a satisfying way.

[Hermien · Rating 3 out of 5]

Loved the illustrations.