A crap load of awards for children's and young adult literature have been announced. Newbery, Caldecott, Prinz, etc. Congrats to all involved.

Since I mentioned Edgar Allan Poe, I'll keep going. Have you ever seen a portrait of Poe in which he did not look completely miserable? I didn't think so. Never fear, here's your chance. Poe looking surprisingly young and spry, and dare I say it?, a bit fat.

Comical translation of Cormac McCarthy. Yes, it is just as confusing. Don't forget Part 2 and Part 3.

The convoluted history of the ownership of the rights to Sherlock Holmes since Sir Arthur Conan Doyle died in 1930. It makes a bunch of money, but who is it going to and how did it get that way? And why isn't this stuff in the public domain like all of Conan Doyle's contemporaries? My head hurts.

What's killing us now: A short history of apocalypse literature. If you didn't get enough of The Road in the previous post, it's discussed here too, of course.

The American Winston Churchill. He wrote books as well, before the British Churchill came along. They sold lots and lots of copies. Then he stopped writing in 1915.

New rule for poets: no killing thyself.