The geographical cure, space weather, and Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler

It was nearing 2am on Saturday morning, and I was finishing packing for a weekend upstate with a friend and her parents. Maps, maps—I needed my maps of the Catskills, because if I had my way we’d be going on a short hike. The two Harriman maps were still out on the top of my desk from my last trip in December, but the others were nowhere in sight, in a …