Here are two pieces on jokes, because they're on my mind: Alicia Louise Merchant's take on comedy and cancer, and a supremely touching account of a man who left some punchlines behind.
Dennis Johnson, the publisher who brought Hans Fallada back into print, answered a few questions from readers over at the Guardian. He said that he felt the pain of writing Every Man Dies Alone contributed to Fallada's death.
Here's a lovely and very subjective guide to children's poetry. I only wish I'd loved Emily Dickinson as a tyke. When I was small I liked the Roberts Frost and Burns (the latter mostly because my grandpa told me an anecdote about him farting in front of royalty), and of course Lewis Carroll. I bet I could still recite “Jabberwocky” right now, if we saw each other in the street and you wanted to hear it. And why wouldn't you?