At the same time — and sometimes as a reaction — various fundamentalisms seem intent on selling us maps to buried treasure, pulling out yellowed parchments and trying to convince us that these dated maps tell us the truth about ourselves, about our present. But their maps are just as flat, and we feel like they’re hiding something. We feel like there are whole regions of our experience they’ve never set foot upon — as if they claim to have mapped Manhattan because they visited Madison Square Garden. Who’s going to buy that map?
