Madeleine L'Engle, dead at 88. All I can remember about A Wrinkle in Time is that I liked it very much, and that I associate it very strongly, every time I think about it, with eating strips of sharp cheddar and monterey jack cheese while I read the book at my grandmother's kitchen table.

A list of fraudulent literary works attributed to living authors. Howard Hughes' "diary" is mentioned, of course, as is a joke book by Thomas Paine (Paul Collins, who wrote this piece, discusses Thomas Paine's voluminous writings from beyond the grave in his excellent book tracking Thomas Paine's post-mortem adventures, The Trouble With Tom, which I highly recommend), but I was most interested in the Dickens knock-offs, with titles like David Copperful and Oliver Twiss. It would seem that Thomas Peckett Press had mastered the promotional tactics of the porn industry, over a full century earlier. (I believe "David Cop-a-feel" is just a convenient stock punch line, and not an actual porn title, but I'm at work, and probably would be well-served by not looking that up just now)

Kurt Vonnegut, dead at 84. I wrote my college entrance essay on the lessons learned from God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater. Vonnegut is probably the reason I chose to be a literature major; I won't hold it against him.