Kären WIGEN, a Malleable Map: Geographies of Restoration in Central Japan, 1600-1912. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2010
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Book Reviews / JESHO 54 (2011) 417-446 439 Kären WIGEN, A Malleable Map: Geographies of Restoration in Central Japan, 1600-1912. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2010. xviii + 322 pp. ISBN: 978-0-520-25918-8 (hbk.). $39.95 / £27.95. Kären Wigen’s A Malleable Map opens with a big question: ‘How did modern Japan acquire its regional architecture?’ The obvious answer would be to look at Tokyo in 1871, ‘for it was there and then [. .] that the mod- ern political map was essentially put in place’ (1). This approach, however, does not satisfy Wigen, who chooses to tackle the issue from a regional standpoint by examining the trajectory of early modern Shinano province— modern Nagano prefecture—over the span of more than three centuries (1600-1912). In particular, Wigen wants to map out the ways in which Nagano’s regional identity came to be, and at which historical junctions. Here is the novelty: this is a book that outlines the Tokugawa-Meiji transi- tion not from the viewpoint of the domain but from that of the province (kuni), because ‘provincial identities counted’ (19) as well. At the same time A Malleable Map tells much more than just the story of the transfor- mation of a province into a prefecture. One of the first anecdotes inA Malleable Map presents the readers with the 1890 story of an unconscious politician forcibly carried out of his hos- pital bed and brought before the local assembly hall to achieve a spurious quorum for a vote on the location of the prefectural headquarters (5). Two-hundred pages later, in one of the book’s final anecdotes, the spotlight turns to the editor of the Nagano News as he, ‘in a highly symbolic move’ that would turn his newspaper ‘into a useful instrument of chorographic imagination’ (203-4), removes the word Nagano from the paper’s mast- head and replaces it with Shinano. Sandwiched between these two episodes is a long, rich, eye-catching parade of case studies in conflict over the significance of space. Visual as well as verbal representations of Shinano/Nagano form the core of Wigen’s evidence; in particular, she zeroes in on maps of the province, that is to say, source materials located half-way between large-scale meta-geography and localized topography. Wigen’s analysis is not only meticulous and sophis- ticated but also, and just as importantly, captivating. Thanks to the excellent reproductions of maps and to the all-important explanatory diagrams—not to mention Wigen’s clean and crisp narrative—we have no more excuses not to understand cartography and incorporate it into our own work. In the first part of the book (Chapters 1 through 3) Wigen looks at visual representations of Shinano in large maps of the archipelago (sōzu), © Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2011 DOI: 10.1163/156852011X599305 440 Book Reviews / JESHO 54 (2011) 417-446 in picture maps of the provinces (kuniezu), and in mathematical maps. In the maps of the archipelago Shinano was a moving target: a simple shift in perspective could turn a faraway periphery (Kyoto-centered viewpoint) into the center’s backyard (Edo-based viewpoint), or into a ‘landscape of passage’ (54) (the view from the road). When it comes to the picture maps of the provinces, Wigen peels layer upon layer of information—topogra- phy, agriculture, commerce, political geography—to show how a cohesive vision was achieved despite the obvious lack of a centripetal structure in the area. Mathematical maps of the Meiji era introduced a new register and a new goal, that of standardizing and nationalizing the newly created Nagano prefecture. Textual sources form the bulk of Wigen’s evidence in Part 2 (Chapters 4 through 6). Among the various Meiji-era textual renditions of Nagano, the author chooses to focus on statistical yearbooks (Chapter 4), geographical digests (Chapter 5), and regional newspapers (Chapter 6). These media formed an integral part of the creation of Shinano/Nagano for, as she points out, ‘[w]here cartography had given Shinano a shape, prose choro- graphies gave it a story’ (137). We learn here that Meiji-era textbooks used Shinano as a terrain onto which young citizens-in-the-making were encouraged to uncover and follow ‘the traces [literally “footprints,” ato] left by loyalty, sacrifice, filial piety, and wifely virtue’ (184). The province/ prefecture thus became a breeding ground for patriotic rhetoric and values, traditional and modern alike. Moreover, with such lines as ‘In the age of the gods, Yamato Takeru climbed the forbidding Usui Pass, homesick for his wife. Today, the pass is pierced by Tunnel 26’ (188), geography songs in the league of ‘Our Land Shinano’ (Shinano no kuni, 1899) created a seamless continuum between Shinano’s past, present, and future, ensuring that tradition would complement, not antagonize, innovation. As for local newspapers, Wigen acknowledges that they have no comparable early modern counterpart, yet effectively demonstrates how they ‘clearly belong in any account of place making in the modern world’ (194). Reading through the book two questions come to mind. The first has to do with reception: how effective were these maps and texts in influencing the way in which people on the ground actually perceived the region? Second, how representative is Shinano-Nagano? Would the picture of the restoration be significantly different if we looked at the story of a different kuni? In the Conclusion Wigen addresses both concerns. As examples of reception from within she focuses mostly on two ‘indigenous intellectuals’ (226), Sejimo Nobutada (1709-1789) and Yoshizawa Takaaki (1710- 1777), while also mentioning (but offering no specific examples) packhorse .