A highly visual exploration of diagrams and data that helps you understand how "maps" are part of everyday thinking, how they tell stories, and how they can reframe your point of view, from Stanford University's world-renowned d.school. “This book is the ultimate legend to mapping all kinds of data.”—Jessica Hagy, Webby Award-winning blogger of Indexed and author of How to Be Interesting (In Ten Simple Steps)   Maps aren’t just geographic, they are also infographic and include all types of frameworks and diagrams. Any figure that sorts data visually and presents it spatially is a map. Maps are ways of organizing information and figuring out what’s important. Even stories can be mapped! The Secret Language of Maps provides a simple framework to deconstruct existing maps and then shows you how to create your own. An embedded mystery story about a woman who investigates the disappearance of an old high school friend illustrates how to use different maps to make sense of all types of information. Colorful illustrations bring the story to life and demonstrate how the fictional character’s collection of data, properly organized and “mapped,” leads her to solve the mystery of her friend’s disappearance. You’ll learn how to gather data, organize it, and present it to an audience. You’ll also learn how to view the many maps that swirl around our daily lives with a critical eye, aware of the forces that are in play for every creator. “This book is the ultimate legend to mapping all kinds of data.” —Jessica Hagy, Webby Award–winning blogger of Indexed and author of How to Be Interesting (in Ten Simple Steps)   Carissa Carter is a designer, geoscientist, and Academic Director at the Stanford d.school. Carissa drives the d.school's pedagogy and teaches courses on the intersection of data and design, design for climate change, maps, and the visual sorting of information. She helped lead the d.school's seminal Stanford 2025 project on the future of higher education and pursues projects at the crossover between design, science, and emerging technology.  The Hasso Plattner Institute of Design, known as the d.school , was founded at Stanford University in 2005. Each year, more than a thousand students from all disciplines attend classes, workshops, and programs to learn how the thinking behind design can enrich their own work and unlock their creative potential. CHAPTER I Marion Marlow wondered if the giant plastic fish hook slung over the left side of her lower lip enjoyed sucking every bit of moisture from her mouth. It was tethering her to the moment through the symphony of dental care. Where do you look when you’re at the dentist? Do you stare at the roof? Close your eyes? Follow the creases in the assistant’s face? When you’re wearing the suction, are you supposed to keep up a conversation? Marion tested three landing points for her eyes, then let them settle on the masked face of Emily Romero. Twenty-five years before, Emily was just the crazy younger sister of Marion’s best friend, Julie. Emily skipped class, blew cigarette smoke at smoke detectors, and spent most of 1995 sitting on bumpers in the parking lot of Burke High School, talking about Kurt Cobain. Now Dr. Emily Romero suggested that Marion close her eyes and “just relax while I’m polishing.” It was supposed to be me , thought Marion. Me or Julie. The older girls. The ones who tried. We were the ones destined to be the worldsavers. Or at least we’d be the lawyers, the professors, the presidents, the ones envied by everyone for their achievements . . . the dentists. Back then, she’d never considered the possibility that she might not win in life. But at this point in her life she hadn’t even earned a participation ribbon. Should I ask about Julie? Would Emily want to talk about her? Should I sound casual or concerned? Does Emily blame me? It’d been so long since the day that Julie had disappeared. January 1996  Marion and Julie were both home in New England for the holiday break from their first year of college. Those were lonely times. Neither one had made a friend in college who lived up to the standard they’d each set for the other. Julie should have studied history or poetry and surrounded herself with books and been an academic, but impractical wasn’t in her budget. She slogged through a semester of business classes and arrived home on break ready to retire. Marion had the luxury of choice but was as awkward as an aardvark in the ocean. She didn’t know how to fit in—she always felt like she was treading water outside of the real conversations. Julie had always been her raft. On January 6, 1996, just after 11 p.m., Julie and Marion cut through the snowy woods to their old high school. The door by the smokers’ corner could always be opened with a Swiss Army knife. There was no deadbolt; just slide the blade between the double doors and depress the lock. It would always pull open. The halls smelled the same—a mix of