What's in a map?

For all Robert Louis Stevenson's opinions on other artists illustrating his works it is fascinating to note that he wrote Treasure Island as a direct response to a map he painted of the island in question. In this case the image is a prerequisite of the text.

When does a map become an illustration? Its role within the text is hugely important, if not just as important as a classic illustration. The map lets us visualise not only the scene's themselves (up to a point) but the general location of the action:

"The map that readers find inserted in Treasure Island does not function like traditional examples of cartography outside the text nor like the map vied over by characters in the text. Stevenson’s map signifies or “illustrates” actions and places within the narrative; readers use it not to locate something nor find their way outside the text but to visualize described events, as is the case with most illustrations.

Stevenson’s map also exceeds the typical illustration; not limited to a single scene, it functions as a pictorial table of contents, helping readers navigate multiple chapters to see what will happen next and where."

That the map is placed at the start of the book is an incentive to would be reader to engage in the text. It offers the "... the strange incidents, the clearness and mystery, the story told and still remaining unknown" referred to by Stevenson earlier. While this sort of 'illustration' does not give away the plot before the novel has been read as is the danger with 'representational' illustrations, it presents the reader with a point of reference and invokes intrigue as to what will  happen 'on the island' and where.

"Its embodiment of the narrative elevates the map beyond cartography to, specifically, illustration because the map's embedded story reveals a close relationship between this image and the corresponding narrative."

As a catalyst to the composition, the map functions as a radical example of 'proleptic' illustration (Mary Elizabeth Leighton & Lisa Surridge) which 'anticipates the events of the verbal plot to follow.'

The map, since drawn by Stevenson himself also allows him to "Defend his reputation as the author of authentic fiction."

"Stevenson juxtaposes textual pastiche with graphic innovation; in contrast to the text, the map appears original and impossible to duplicate, giving Stevenson a basis for differentiating himself as the author-illustrator of a unique imagetext."

While in contemporary times I would not see this a much of an issue we must remember that Stevenson was concerned that his work would be viewed as common popular fiction. That he also came up with the catalyst for the narrative: the map, would appear to make his work weigh more in favour of a work of 'high art' and of note rather than mere popular fiction.

All the World's a Stage...

Many contemporary fantasy novels that are not illustrated throughout the main body of the book include maps alongside their contents pages or in their appendices. Of those that I have found the huge majority appear to be fantasy fiction and I wonder if just the mere presence of a map would put someone off from reading the book if they were not a generally a fan of fantasy. (The same can be said for illustration in general)

Examining the map from The Hobbit, illustrated by the author J. R. R. Tolkien.

The Hobbit, while written by its author as a children's book, is widely accepted as a novel for all ages. It is not particualary modern (1937) but is still hugely relevant and extremely popular and successful, this almost de-ages it. (Helped by the new movie adaptation.)

This map like the one in Treasure Island is unique because it is a replica of that which is described in the narrative. It is not merely a map of the land in the narrative giving us a 'proleptic' look ahead in the story (like those in LotR) but it plays a part as an actual prop that the characters are in possession of. This is important in its inclusion of the reader in the story, it is almost as if they have joined the quest. We see what the characters see. 
Here the maps role in the narrative is paramount.


" On the table in the light of a big lamp with a red shade he spread a
piece of parchment rather like a map.
"This was made by Thror, your grandfather, Thorin," he said in answer
to the dwarves' excited questions. "It is a plan of the Mountain."
"I don't see that this will help us much," said Thorin disappointedly
after a glance. "I remember the Mountain well enough and the lands
about it. And I know where Mirkwood is, and the Withered Heath where
the great dragons bred."
"There is a dragon marked in red on the Mountain," said Balin, "but
it will be easy enough to find him without that, if ever we arrive there."
"There is one point that you haven't noticed," said the wizard, "and
that is the secret entrance. You see that rune on the West side, and the
hand pointing to it from the other runes? That marks a hidden passage to
the Lower Halls." (Look at the map at the beginning of this book, and you
will see there the runes in red.)
"It may have been secret once," said Thorin, "but how do we know
that it is secret any longer? Old Smaug had lived there long enough now
to find out anything there is to know about those caves."
"He may-but he can't have used it for years and years."
"Why?"
"Because it is too small. 'Five feet high the door and three may walk
abreast' say the runes, but Smaug could not creep into a hole that size,
not even when he was a young dragon, certainly not after devouring so
many of the dwarves and men of Dale."

                                                             - The Hobbit, 1995 edition.

Here the parts of the map are described and explained, you get a real sense of involvement as you examine the map whilst Gandalf points to areas of it.What I find fascinating is Tolkien's addition of, "(Look at the map at the beginning of this book, and you will see there the runes in red.)". This is almost not surprising in the context of the book, it often reads like the bedtime story it was intended as if read out load by a parent. That direct reader/story teller relationship once again heightens our sense of involvement and it directs and demands our attention of the map.

The map can be seen in both the Hobbit and Fellowship of the Ring movies:




"This book, with the help of maps, does not need any illustrations it is good and should appeal to all children between the ages of 5 and 9." -Rayner Unwin aged 10. (Son of Stanley Unwin, publisher of The Hobbit, 1936.)

As well as designing the maps for his middle earth mythology, Tolkien is the sole illustrator throughout the novel, cover to cover. I'd like to look into this in more detail later, at how this influences the reader's perception of the text and at the skills of the author fully realising his own text through illustrations.
On being asked if the american edition of the hobbit might be published using 'some good American artist', Tolkien responds: " I am divided between knowledge of my own inability and fear of what american artists (doubtless of admirable skill) might produce." Tolkien's illustrations are praised by critic Margery Fisher for being; '...not self-consciously naive, they put into visual form the kind of magic world in which a child might well have imagined.' The illustrations undoubtedly work and have a style which, mainly through the maps and book covers, have become inseparable from Middle Earth.
One one thing Tolkien was adamant on; "In any case I agree that all the illustrations ought to be done by the same hand: four professional pictures would make my own amateurish productions look rather silly." -The art of the Hobbit by Wayne G. Hammond & Christina Scull, 2011, Introduction.

This brings up another issue to take note of: What happens when a series of books, continuing a single story or linked stories are illustrated by different people, with different styles and therefore outcomes. Does your response to the narrative change?

Examining the fiction works of Kirstin Cashore.

A case of (map) illustrator reassignment occurs in the Graceling trilogy, (admittedly a series aimed at the mature young adult) and although I hadn't noticed it entirely because I read the books so far apart because of publishing dates, if I were to read them in succession as intended I feel the sudden artistic change would definitely alter the way in which I read them.

The first book in the series, Gracling, is accompanied by this carefully penned map, illustrated to look like a map that might be found within the narrative.

The map, placed in the front end sheets demands our attention as soon as we open the book. We can already see that presidency is given to 'Monsea' and can thus deduce that an important part of the narrative will be played out there. That the map is not of an island but of a peninsular of land is also of note and sets us up for the mystery of what lies beyond the mountains. 

We are also presented with the crests of each 'kingdom' on the map which is something that doesn't happen in any of the later books.  While little can be decoded from the crests on first glance there are obvious signs including swords representing kingdoms more akin to war and attacking and those of turrets and walls representing neutrality and defence. 

The narrative revolves around the politics and relationships between each kingdom with the map clarifying and explaining the alliances and wars.

The style of illustration, decorative and delicate resonate with the fantasy stereotype and quickly identify the texts genre. 

The second books leading map illustrated by  Jeffery C. Mathison:

This map for the second novel in the trilogy is distinctly different from the first. Gone are the decorative boarders and titles that make it look like a map straight out of the fantastical libraries described in the narrative and the crests belonging to each land. Instead the map is more matter of fact. While it could still be an extract from the narrative, with its spiky fonts and key it feels much more like it is there just for the reader to make clearer the written narrative. 

What this map does do is reveal a key narrative twist; the land from the first book in the series and that in this book are connected, divided only by an impassible mountain range. This is quite an important point in the narrative and for the entire trilogy so it surprises me that the map, placed before the novel even begins, reveals this. The characters in both stories are oblivious to this fact and while this gives the reader an omniscient stance and creates dramatic irony I can't help feeling like this gives the game away too soon. Obviously this heavily influences our reading experience, for better or worse is personal opinion although it does keep the expectation and suspense of 'discovery' high and the pace of the book going.

The third book published a full three years after the first two is wholly different in its illustration approach. It is this book that has the most experience changing illustration style in my opinion.

Illustrated by Ian Schoenherr.

While the change of illustrator between the fist two books are barely noticeable unless the reader is specifically looking, the change in the third and final book is striking and highly apparent.

Not only does the map style change from delicate ink lines to brash, strong woodcut style inks but there are additional maps of interiors and palaces included as well as ornamental chapter openers and chapter headers, all of which dramatically change the way the narrative is read.

While I personally think the illustrations are beautiful and the authors willingness to be illustrated fantastic, I also want to cast a critical eye on the pairing. 

The feel of the book, when compared to its two predecessors is completely different, and while this has a huge amount to do with the story and main character from who's viewpoint the book is told (and that my copy is a hefty 550 page hardback compared to my other paperbacks)I feel the illustrations have a large part to play also.

The book feels much younger in tone and which is odd for its violent and sensitive content, this I feel is invoked and reflected by the style of illustration used.

I'm not saying it is inappropriate because it sits wonderfully with the text in the guise of a relic found in the libraries the main character often inhabits, only that it can often work against the text as an example of mature young adult fiction. At times it is almost mimics fairy tale illustration.

 There could however be something in this, a juxtaposition of dark and moody images in a nostalgically youthful style set against the horrors and wonders of the world the text creates. Also the role of story telling within the narrative is important and so may be reflected in the images.

It's difficult to dissect this book since I love and admire the illustrations so much, I just feel that they 'youthen' its feel and perhaps therefore its (age) appeal. This is exactly the conclusion I didn't want to draw as I'm arguing the case of the illustrated adult novel. But however much I love the dual discourse I cannot ignore the fact the illustrations in this book make me aware, in a niggling way, of its young readership appeal and that it is in a different spectrum to the first two of the trilogy. (Which since it is a good book should deter me yet it's just there like an annoying itch.)

What I do love about the extra maps in this book, asides from their engrossing detail and ability to guide your envisionment of the 'location', is the addition of a final map of the 'Known World'. This comes at the very end of the book and is not easily noticed until studied after the novel has concluded, which is paramount because it illustrates a huge point in the narrative when all the characters from the three books come together and realise the existence of each others lands. Were this to come at the beginning or even 'amongst' the book the the plot would have been ruined and the way in which the narrative read dramatically altered.

Cashore documents her working relationship with Schoenherr and want for illustrations on her blog here.


Examining the maps of the 'A Song of Ice and Fire' series.

These maps from the second book 'A Clash of kings' in George R.R. Martin's Song of Ice and Fire series illustrate the land of Westeros in which the majority of the story takes place.

Once again each map is decorative in a style such that it could be a relic of the world it depicts therefore drawing us into the narrative and handing us a physical piece of the fiction.
 It is less pictorial than those already examined and has a more clinical approach, perhaps distancing the reader slightly, it does however present a clear visualisation of the locations.
What is important about this map is that it give us a sense of the scale and distance we are witnessing and experiencing in the narrative. In reading the text we discover that it takes numerous months to travel from 'Winterfell' in the north to 'Kings Landing' in the south, neither of which are either very southern or northern when in contrast to what the map shows.
As well as helping us understand the current narrative the map also allows us to understand the history presented in the text and the political 'map' and cultural differences of the characters.
Once again locations of key interest and import are revealed in the choice of maps, foreshadowing future events and invoking suspense as to when and what making it a proleptic illustration.

Maps by James Sinclair.

In conclusion:

On the pure role of the map to influence our reaction to the text it is clear to me that they are not merely images of locations or the lie of the land but important, crucial and noteworthy 'illustrations'. They act as 'in book' illustrations do, guiding and assisting the narrative, evoking suspense and drama and foreshadowing plot to come.