A Brief Atlas of the Lighthouses at the End of the World • José Luis González Macías

Lighthouses inevitably spark romantic notions for me and are firmly part of that dense maritime atmosphere I especially love to dive into in literature, time and again. When I discovered the A Brief Atlas of the Lighthouses at the End of the World, it was absolutely clear I had to have the book. Praised for its design, published by Mare Verlag, and following the typically breezy structure of the now countless “little atlases,” this book felt tailor-made for me. I don’t want to miss the chance to share a short post with my impressions.

The Atlas of Remote Islands marked the beginning for me back then and remains unmatched to this day. I’ve read some wonderful books of this kind since, and this little atlas of lighthouses fits seamlessly into that lineage. The author presents 34 lighthouses, devoting four pages to each one. One page tells a story about the lighthouse, and—as is typical for the format—these narratives vary widely. A second page shows an illustration that stylizes the tower and its location. On the second spread, the lighthouse appears again in profile as a cutaway drawing. Beneath that you’ll find facts and a few additional notes about notable incidents. The fourth page provides a map with the lighthouse’s precise location.

In the best tradition of my other atlases, the book—with its brief anecdotes and stories—settled me into a pleasantly relaxed reading flow. The diverse texts are atmospheric and bring the sea, with its uniquely dense mood, vividly to life. The featured lighthouses are scattered across the globe and tied to very different events. Naturally, there are tales of shipwrecks and of the sometimes arduous work of constructing the towers; other pieces suggest that this or that lighthouse was perhaps cursed; or they turn to people who lived there in complete solitude and sometimes survived as if by a miracle. Another lighthouse in South Africa stood on a prison island where Mandela was interned. I also loved the story of the Lime Rock Lighthouse, with the daughter of a lighthouse keeper who, in a small boat, rescued numerous people shipwrecked off the coast. There are gripping accounts of lighthouses whose keepers vanished without a trace, or which, due to heavy seas, were inaccessible for long periods—only for dramatic episodes to unfold inside the towers. Another U.S. lighthouse, difficult to build in its harsh environment, now serves as a resting place for urns. It’s a colorful mix of stories that are highly entertaining to read, even when they often lack a sharp punchline. For me, they rekindled a sense of adventure, and I can never get enough of reading about the fates of those so closely bound to the sea.

I also found the author’s foreword interesting: he openly admits he doesn’t really know much about the sea, doesn’t live by the sea, hasn’t spent much time there, and likely hasn’t visited any of the lighthouses himself. José Luis González Macías, born in 1973, is a Spanish graphic designer. He came to lighthouses rather by chance—first through a commission to design an album cover, and then, via another assignment, to one of the stories included in this book. Fascinated by lighthouses and what they radiate, he went on to design and write this volume. I find that remarkable, because his texts are evocative and lively; I would have believed he had visited all those lighthouses in person.

Reading the book, you inevitably find yourself wondering what it would be like to live in complete isolation at these desolate sites. Most towers had a dwelling at their base for the keepers; sometimes, though, the cramped lighthouse itself served as the living quarters of those who ran it. Again and again, the texts note how solitude took a toll on people’s spirits. Others, by contrast, kept the tower in reliable working order for many years and, so it seems to me, pursued their quiet and solitary work with stoic calm.

Each lighthouse entry includes a set of facts—when it was built, and often when it was decommissioned or automated. While in past centuries lighthouses required human maintenance and care, today many can be operated automatically. Some still are; others have been shut down. Modern navigation systems technically render lighthouses unnecessary, which is only half the truth: if GPS or a ship’s electronics fail, lighthouses provide a vital backup.

Something I didn’t know beforehand—but which is, in a way, obvious—is the light characteristic (“Kennung”) of a lighthouse, which the book also lists each time. It indicates how the lighthouse flashes. La Jument, off the coast of France, emits three red flashes every 15 seconds. This makes it possible to recognize visually which lighthouse you’re seeing. The nominal range specifies how many nautical miles away the light signal can be perceived. González Macías also notes the tower’s height, construction type, and shape. You’ll also find the exact geographic coordinates—perfect if you want to look up the towers on satellite images or research them online.

Some of the brief side notes accompanying each entry are fascinating, too. For instance, the Cabo Blanco Lighthouse appears in Jules Verne’s Journey to the Center of the Earth. The tragic stories of certain lighthouse dwellers have been adapted for film. Another lighthouse was visited by Virginia Woolf. Yet another became the subject of Jean Guichard, a photographer who captured numerous lighthouses amid stormy seas. And the photo in question is truly impressive. So if you read the book and are captivated by the topic, you’ll find plenty of pointers here to keep exploring the world of lighthouses.

The book’s presentation is, once again, excellent. The red-and-white cloth cover, reminiscent of a lighthouse, feels pleasantly high-quality. I also really like the typography on the cover, which reappears in color as the title page. At the beginning there’s a world map marking all the towers. The lighthouse illustrations give a good impression of the structures themselves while preserving the book’s cohesive visual style. I also really like the following spread with the lighthouse in cross-section alongside the map—beautifully tidy and well arranged. It’s a pleasure to linger over the images; they break up the text and invite you to leaf through the book and dip in here and there. Unfortunately, there’s no thread stitching—that’s the only downside. The book has a ribbon marker and once again uses pleasantly fine paper that feels thick and soft.

Conclusion: This new little atlas featuring numerous lighthouses at the end of the world is once again a delight. The varied short pieces on each lighthouse offer a fine overview and—with their atmospheric prose—conjure a vivid mood. It’s a pleasure to let the lively texts, the illustrations, and the handsomely prepared maps carry you through the book. It’s a quick read, but certainly one to keep on hand and return to. Kleiner Atlas der Leuchttürme am Ende der Welt is, for me, once again a clear recommendation. It also makes an excellent gift—especially for yourself—when, on gray winter days, you find yourself longing for a holiday and the sea.

Book information: A Brief Atlas of the Lighthouses at the End of the World • José Luis González Macías • mare Verlag • 160 pages • ISBN 9783866486935