A fascination with maps

The sto­ry is that Robert Louis Stevenson’s step­son, Lloyd, asked for a map, a trea­sure map, such as pirates might use. Steven­son drew it, and then wrote a sto­ry to fit it. It was called The Sea Cook but lat­er the book was renamed Trea­sure Island, the title by which we know that book (and map) today. Is there a more famous map among books? I don’t think so.

Per­haps it was that map that led me to always have a par­tic­u­lar affec­tion for maps in books.  But there were oth­er maps I loved: Oz, The Hun­dred Acre Woods, among many oth­ers.  There was a series of adult mys­ter­ies (Dell?) that always includ­ed a floor plan of the mur­der venue.  Kind of a map.  I knew some­one who col­lect­ed them.

Years ago I came across an atlas that only had maps of fan­ta­sy­lands. That book in turn gave me the idea for a mys­tery of my own, Who Stole The Wiz­ard of Oz? The plot revolves around the theft of library books, children’s books with maps. Indeed, those maps were the clues to solv­ing the mys­tery. Alas, the book was nev­er pro­duced very well so that those maps—the essen­tial clues—were hard to see.

Regard­less, a forth­com­ing book of mine, Old Wolf, needs—by the editor’s request—a map.  So I shall take out my sur­vey­ing tools, do the essen­tial sketch, and send it on to Bri­an Flo­ca, who will, I am sure, make it some­thing fun to use for win­some wandering.