Vivian Shaw

THE WASHINGTON POST – Peng Shepherd’s The Cartographers is, at its heart, about three things: family, found and otherwise; how much of one’s life can be built and balanced on a single lie; and the transformative nature of cartography.

Its examination of this last aspect is what takes the book from an enjoyable, fast-paced (and fantastical) thriller to something you want to put down and think about before rereading it – snarling viciously at anyone who tries to pick it up before you can get that second pass.

It’s brilliant.

One of the triumphs of The Cartographers is the exploration of what it means to make a map.

Does the act of surveying, measuring, drafting and drawing the map affect the landscape it represents?

Is it possible to map something without altering it in the process?

How accurate can any map be, given that it only represents a snapshot of that landscape at one point in time, and to what extent does this matter?

The Cartographers explores these questions with deep, vivid intensity; it will make you think twice about the power of paper maps, especially in a world where they’ve been supplanted by electronic devices.

Nell Young’s passion is cartography. Intelligent and accomplished, she’d been poised to follow in her father’s footsteps as the second Dr Young, dedicated to the study and restoration of historic maps at the New York Public Library.

That career, along with Nell’s relationship with a fellow cartographer, was shattered in a screaming argument with her father seven years ago over the authenticity of three maps.

Fired from the library and blacklisted in academia, she’s reduced to photoshopping water stains onto prints of historic maps at Classic Maps and Atlases™ in Brooklyn to make rent.

Then her father is found dead in his office at the library, and in a secret compartment of his desk, Nell finds a battered, 90-year-old gas station road map – one of the very questionable maps that had sent her packing seven years ago.

The mystery deepens when she discovers that this map is an incredibly rare and sought-after collector’s item that’s described by other institutions as ‘missing’, ‘destroyed’ or ‘stolen’.

As Nell wades further into her investigation, with the help of her ex-boyfriend Felix, she reconnects one by one with the members of a mysterious – and sinister – organisation known as the Cartographers.

They turn out to be friends of Nell’s parents from their university days who remember Nell as a toddler.

Shepherd gives us the backstory in individual flashbacks from the perspectives of several Cartographers, handling the segues so smoothly that the shifts back to Nell’s current point of view slip past like silk.

At first the huddled secrecy of the group seems excessive, but as events unfold, it becomes clear that everything they have done, and everything Nell’s father did to her on that awful afternoon, has been to keep Nell safe.

The gas station map hides – in plain sight – a secret valuable enough to kill for, which throws into question the entire structure of reality: Is the act of printing a thing on a map enough to bring it into existence?

Could drawing a door, or a room, or a staircase on a map create one?

Nell is drawn into an increasingly dangerous sequence of events that sheds light on the secrets within secrets that surround her mother’s death decades earlier.

In the process of confronting what really happened and the covert, decades-long quest to find a way back to what was lost, the decision is up to Nell whether to change fate or to be swept along with it.

Shepherd, also the author of The Book of M, nails the sense of deep-seated, profound connection and love between a small group of people drawn together by shared experience and interest, creating an intense familial bond.

The Cartographers met in college and stayed connected through doctoral study and work, pushing each other to far greater heights than they’d have managed academically and personally on their own.

“I thought we were going to be friends forever,” one of the Cartographers recalls. “I thought nothing could tear us apart.” The tragedy of the book is what happens to that bond – and why.

The Cartographers is both beautiful and intellectual, and Shepherd sticks the landing in a deeply satisfying fashion, echoing Edmund Spenser: “For there is nothing lost, that may be found, if sought.”

TOKYO (AFP) – Crowding, confrontations and full-on attacks. Japan’s many train fans are mostly mild-mannered enthusiasts passionate about the country’s famed rail system, but a small group is gaining surprising notoriety.

Japan’s railway system has long inspired envy around the world, with its famed punctuality, cutting-edge technology and meticulous timetables.

So it’s no surprise that the country is home to a diverse landscape of train buffs, from those who enjoy poring over timetables to others who adore and even record the rumbling sound of passing trains.

Perhaps the best-known group, however, is a tribe dubbed toritetsu (train photographers), who strive to take perfect photos of approaching trains.

They have been around for decades, but in recent years, reports of shouting matches, trespassing and even violence at stations have turned toritetsu into the bad boys of Japanese trainspotting.

Some argued that the out-of-control behaviour isn’t entirely new, citing frenzied farewells for retiring steam locomotives in the 60s and 70s.

But recent incidents, including the harassment of a photobombing cyclist and an assault that left a teen with a fractured skull last year, have some enthusiasts worried.

“The manners have gotten worse for sure,” lamented septuagenarian Masao Oda, who has been taking train photos for about 50 years.

It’s an uncomfortable feeling for toritetsu like 27-year-old Akira Takahashi.

“People now point fingers at me,” said Takahashi, whose fondest obsession is the EF66 electric locomotive model, which he describes as his “idol”.

“The negative image of us now prevails… I don’t want to be lumped together with some of us who are causing trouble.”

Most fans are more like 19-year-old university student Ryunosuke Takagai, who has been known to get up at five in the morning to document his passion and sometimes takes on part-time factory work to finance his hobby.

“I love everything about trains – their sound, their atmosphere,” he told AFP.

“That moment when you succeed in capturing the train you’d spent hours waiting for is truly fulfilling,” he said.

The increasingly raucous behaviour of some toritetsu may be driven by their pursuit of the perfect photo, according to freelance railway journalist Jun Umehara, formerly at one of Japan’s top train magazines.

He said factors including fewer “retiring” trains and more urban development mean hobbyist photographers are squeezed into smaller spaces as they chase their dream pictures.

“Every train has its last moment, which, for them, is the last missing piece of the puzzle they need to make their photo collection complete,” he said.

“The idea of missing that final piece is almost unbearable for them,” added Umehara.
“Hence the desperation.”

Housing development over the years has also seen some old shooting spots razed, making it even harder for toritetsu to emulate the “impeccable” train photos they grew up admiring.

The images, featured by Japan’s niche railway magazines with their devoted toritetsu readership, are often taken with a clear view of trains – devoid of obstacles like fences, trees and passengers.

“But imitating these exemplary photos in real-life situations is almost impossible,” Umehara said. “And yet, that’s what they’re after.”

The community of train fans encompasses a diverse group of enthusiasts, including noritetsu, who simply enjoy riding on trains, ekibentetsu, who focus on the ekiben bentos – boxed meals sold at trains stations, and soshikitetsu, so-called “mourners” of retiring trains.

Nationwide, there were an estimated five million train fans – from casual to hardcore – in 2015, according to senior consultant at Tokyo-based firm NRI Social Information System Services Nobuaki Takada.

And encroaching toritetsu have become an increasing problem for rail operators, which have often responded with heavier security.

But last year, industry behemoth East Japan Railway Company, commonly known as JR East, changed tack and launched an official fan club for train enthusiasts.

“Toritetsu can actually be counted on to take beautiful pictures of our trains and promote them on the Internet,” said official with subsidiary JR East Start UP Co Yusuke Yamamoto.

“So instead of treating them as our enemy, we wanted to build a good relationship with them through this fan community.”

He wants to see the community overcome the stigma associated with its fringe elements, citing the way anime and manga obsessives have become more mainstream and less socially isolated in Japan.

“Toritetsu is a culture, and I hope its image will change,” Yamamoto said.