Today would have been E.B. White's 113th birthday. Perhaps most famous for penning "Charlotte's Web" and "Stuart Little," he was also a regular contri...
Ben Yagoda, author of "About Town: The New Yorker and the World It Made," made a comical error in a New York Times article about commas earlier this w...
As E.B. White so beautifully says, Charlotte is indeed a true friend and a good writer. The beauty lies with that little spider who changed (and saved) lives through the power of her writing. I only hope I can live up to Charlotte and do the same with my words.
Are poor kids unlucky to have uneducated parents, or no parents at all? Unlucky to be born in badly-governed countries? Unlucky to live in regions devoid of good schools, or electricity, or drinkable water?
In the sixty years since E.B. White wrote Charlotte's Web, the novel that immortalized its humble, dusty charms, Maine's Blue Hill Fair has undergone ...
Michael Sims' The Story of Charlotte's Web is not only for E. B. White fans and lovers of Charlotte's Web, but for anyone who enjoys a thoughtfully researched and written work of literary nonfiction.
It's a wild and varied staff at Huffington Post and the reporters are avid readers. They've got favorites they're in the middle of reading and we thou...
Self-publishing hero Amanda Hocking's extreme success earning her $2 million turns out not to be the only case. The world's literature is filled with ...
Thirty five years after originally reading the book, I have realized that E.B. White was not only a great writer, but a visionary and activist as well.
"The heart of fandom," John Updike once wrote, "is identification": that's my team at the top of the division, those are my guys chasing the pennant, and c'mon, let's face it, we're the best.
New York's subway started 105 years ago, on Oct. 27, 1904. Ever so often, the subway distances itself from the stereotype of a noisy metropolis, providing freeze frames of silent symmetry.
Michelle and Tal offered me their cottage for a week this summer. Prime time on a northern lake. How could I say no?
One morning I slipped down to th...