As literary cartographers have shown, one useful way to work with the idea of literary space is to visualize it in map form. Franco Moretti’s version of literary geography, for example, emphasizes what becomes visible when various kinds of data relating to literary space are rendered in map form. 1 Eric Bulson, meanwhile, argues that “literary maps give readers something that novels do not: an image, a structure, a way to visualise form and narrative design.” 2 Literary maps work because they are highly selective: they render some aspects of literary space visible and as a result facilitate particular types of critical questioning and problem solving. But as Brian Harley’s notion of cartographic silences indicates, a map always has to leave things out. 3 Literary maps, like maps in general, depict some things and suppress others: they emphasize the visible, the visualizable, and the static, for example, at the expense of the mobile, the tangible, and the audible.