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A cultural news roundup.

RIP illustrator John Griffiths. A slideshow of his Penguin covers.

Speaking of covers, Meg Wolitzer asks whether male authors garner better ones.

The best spokesman for an Ernest Hemingway novel? Papa himself.

The world’s first edible cookbook is printed on sheets of fresh pasta, blueprints for its own destruction that, when baked, turn into a lasagna.

Perhaps not shockingly, members of Russia’s Public Chamber have criticized a school notebook, part of the Great Russians series, the cover of which features an image of Stalin in military regalia. The publishers, defiant, point out that in a recent TV contest, Stalin placed third in a vote on the country’s “greatest historical figures.”

The Awl’s number-one tip for writing the Great American Novel? “Move out of Brooklyn.”

The big news in Salt Lake City was not that yours truly was there (although I was): luminaries of the horror genre converged on the Beehive State for the 2012 Bram Stoker Awards, where writers Joe McKinney and Allyson Byrd won big.

In which Ian McEwan helps his son with an essay on one of his own novels … and gets “a very low mark.”

Sylvia Plath slept here (and take a peek into fourteen other writers’ bedrooms).

Robert Lowell wrote here—on Manhattan’s West Sixty-seventh Street—and it can be yours for $685,000.

The Little House books are canonical—literally. Laura Ingalls Wilder’s autobiographical series join the Library of America.

John Updike predicted New York’s newly announced 6 1/2 Avenue in a 1956 New Yorkerarticle: “As a service to readers who are too frail or shy for good-natured hurly-burly, we decided to plot a course from the Empire State Building to Rockefeller Center that would involve no contact with either Fifth or Sixth Avenue.”