776 College & Research Libraries July 2021 lows the ebbs and flows of AI’s relevance throughout the decades, as well as its rebranding and evolution as it began to disambiguate itself from the various forms of computing that practitioners had worked so hard to distinguish it from in its early days. In this context, Katz successfully situates AI’s reputation and perceived value within American society’s changing views of industry and the military. White supremacy, imperialism, and neo-liberal ethics are all discussed with practical examples provided, like the anti-Japanese sentiment present in United States industry during the 1980s (specific publications, businesses, and a testimony to Congress are discussed). There is no room for confusion or vagueness in the use of these terms, making it easy for the reader to engage with Katz’s assertions. The transition into neo-liberal attitudes toward corporations and the military in the United States is an important one in the world of tech and computing. Katz does a good job noting the purposeful shift in AI’s image to better suit this transition. He illustrates how AI practitioners have moved away from overt ties to the military and, instead, moved toward supporting a “progressive veneer” that frames AI as a tool for social progress. It is at this point that AI’s links to the interests of large corporations like Microsoft and Google are laid out. Katz also addresses racialized problems such as the role algorithm-based policing plays in harming Black communities. Katz also describes the ways colonialism and capitalism act as the foundation of white supremacy. A key takeaway from this book is how fundamental the academic community was—and continues to be—to AI’s ethical shortcomings. A consistent theme is how scholars looking to make a name for themselves, coupled with university research centers looking to secure funding, display only performative concerns around ethics to fuel an environment in which AI is pushed forward with naive enthusiasm around its potential good. Higher education actors pay little attention to well-established precedent around the ways technological innovations have previously exacerbated and upheld structural inequality. Katz also addresses the overwhelming whiteness of AI experts, the attempts to address this with calls for increasing diverse representation among AI practitioners, and the ways that exist- ing ethical critiques of AI often end up replicating the very systems they claim to want to fix. As a Black woman working in digital scholarship, I see scholars replicating many of the uninterrogated problems this book highlights. Katz offers a strong introduction to the structural inequalities academia contributes to and simultaneously denies. Those familiar with ethical problems in tech will recognize that many of the issues raised in this book are representative of shortcomings that extend well beyond AI. Katz’s writing is straightforward and manages to cover a very broad set of complex topics in a concise, organized fashion. Readers with little familiarity with AI will be able to take away plenty from this book. AI is pervasive across dis- ciplines, with applications to criminology, economics, computer science, the social sciences, and digital humanities among others. Any librarian who will support research and projects around AI, or with an interest in technology and ethics, would find value in this publication. It’s a fairly short, easy read at 234 pages (excluding the acknowledgments, notes, bibliography, and index), and those looking for more in-depth reading on the subject will find the notes and bibliography to be very extensive. The dialog this book introduces is one worth having; I recommend the read.— Jasmine Clark, Temple University Libraries Student Wellness & Academic Libraries: Case Studies and Activities for Promoting Health and Success. Sara Holder and Amber Lannon, eds. Chicago, IL: Association of College and Research Libraries, 2020. 292p. Paper, $86.00 (ISBN 978-0838948644). Book Reviews 777 Perhaps more than ever, the emotional and mental health of students is understood to be essential for academic success. In addition to providing counseling services, colleges and universities have begun to explore other options for promoting student wellness; and, as Sara Holder and Amber Lannon note in this volume, the academic library has become the “logical home for wellness initiatives.” [1] In Student Wellness & Academic Libraries: Case Studies and Activities for Promoting Health and Success, editors Holder and Lannon have gathered together an in-depth collection of current research studies and wellness programs developed and implemented by academic librarians and educators. Comprising 14 chapters and 29 authors, Student Wellness offers methods, strategies, and best practices for enhancing student support in the library. In their introduction to the text, Holder and Lannon make it clear that these case studies were carefully selected to articulate a more “holistic” approach to student success that includes but also goes beyond academic achievement alone. Their goal for this text is to help higher education institutions understand that grades alone do not make for a successful col- lege experience. For students to thrive, they should also be provided with emotional and social support “so that they will be in a better position to continue their education, find employment, and be a functional member of society.” [6] The case studies and initiatives included in Student Wellness make a strong argument for a larger role of the library and the academic librarian in the effort to provide students with a sense of security and connection. Detailed programs and approaches are covered, ranging from library outreach and marketing campaigns, workshops on supporting digital wellness, therapy animals in the library, and wellness support for student library workers. A chapter entitled “Designing for Wellness” describes a librarian and student collaborative project at Columbia University that focuses on two different wellness categories: student distress sup- port and acts of kindness. The students involved in this project were members of the Barnard/ Columbia chapter of Design for America, a national student “idea incubator that identifies important social issues and implements projects offering potential solutions.” [191] Authors Barbara Rockenbach, Shyamolie Biyani, and Francie Mrkich describe their collegial approach to designing and executing plans to make physical changes to the library space that would offer students comfortable, low-stress spaces for study and reflection. The team used carefully composed surveys to gather student feedback about what interventions could be made to the Butler Library. The results, say Rockenbach, Biyani, and Mrkich, “have fundamentally altered how the Columbia Libraries approach student wellness support.” [201] Student Wellness concludes with helpful appendices that offer suggestions for events and sample outreach activities, as well as a model organizational chart for a wellness center. Ap- pendix 14A is a suggested academic calendar that includes monthly events such as National Cyber Security Awareness, Healthy Relationships workshops, and therapy dog visits. Ap- pendix 14B details student health activities for school Homecoming and Halloween events. I enthusiastically recommend this thoughtful and comprehensive collection to all aca- demic librarians. As academic libraries continue to emerge as centers for the promotion of the emotional, social, and physical well-being of students, librarians and support staff must be equipped with resources for wellness outreach and promotion. Student Wellness & Academic 778 College & Research Libraries July 2021 Libraries can serve as an essential guidebook that should be in every academic librarian’s col- lection.—Megan Duffy, Syracuse University Time in Maps: From the Age of Discovery to Our Digital Era. Kären Wigen and Caroline Winterer, eds. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 2020. 272p. Hardcover, $45.00 (ISBN 978-0226718590). “I thought you didn’t want to see another map again,” my partner joked as I held up the book I was sent to review. Indeed, that’s a sentiment I uttered more than a few times three years ago, when I graduated from library school and went on the job market after 10 years of working in a university map collection and on several historical mapping projects. It was in these roles that I learned the nuances of digitization, visualization, and time-series data struc- tures using geographic information systems (GIS) software. Over my time in the library, I became disillusioned with a number of trends not isolated to my workplace, including the fetishization of rare materials, the elision of labor, the detached overtheorization of “the archive,” and the extensive intellectual gatekeeping meant to exclude those seen as lacking the appropriate credentials and occupational categories to produce scholarship. Indeed, I thought I’d be the right person to take on Time in Maps: From the Age of Discovery to our Digital Era, given my expertise in the production, distribution, and access of (historical) maps. However, the book’s explorations break little new ground outside the domain of histories of cartography. The digital era promised in the book’s subtitle is not a point of arrival, as suggested, but an insistence that even more study into a format and genre that has seen considerable scholarly attention for centuries is needed, with minimal ethical engagement with the conditions of the production and reproduction of paper maps. The editors’ introduction lays out five premises for the book as a whole: The production of self-consciously historical maps was a hallmark of the global early modern age. “Static” maps accommodate time in surprisingly versatile ways. Diversity [in cartographic styles] persists [across cultures]. All maps tell time. Cartographic archives change how maps tell time. (5–8) I was hoping these propositions would be taken up by individual authors and interro- gated throughout the book. Instead, these premises are assumptions that the reader is told to carry into the text. If one shares these assumptions, one can reach the author’s conclusions. I was most interested in exposition of the fifth prompt. Alas, this initial gesture toward map libraries acknowledges the opportunities they enable for historians in the digital age but not the infrastructure or labor necessary for these opportunities. Despite acknowledgment of the various colonial projects in the early modern era that led to the creation and reproduction of the maps and atlases examined in the text, this lens is not directed to contemporary map archives and library special collections, as if they are separated from their antecedents in discrete times of “then” and “now.” As well, it is worth noting that the institutions praised for their online collections are top-tier, well-funded research libraries and that all of the authors are either ten- ured professors at prestigious universities or directors of privately funded special collections.