“I think the key to social media for authors is remembering this: its main purpose is really to show that you are a real human being who lives in this world.” Year in Reading alums (respectively) Celeste Ng, Alexander Chee, Roxane Gay, and Adam M. Grant talk to LitHub about how to be a writer on the internet.
Author Internet 101
A Voice for the Voiceless
“Their reporting led to Mr. Weinstein’s firing and set off a national conversation about the prevalence of sexual assault and harassment.” New York Times reporters Jodi Kantor and Megan Twohey will publish a book with Penguin Press about the recent sexual abuse and harassment allegations that have rocked the country. From our archives: Hannah Gersen‘s essay about seeing and hearing women in film.
Illuminated Waterfalls
Recommended Viewing: Sean Lenz and Kristoffer Abildgaard’s long exposure photography series, “Neon Luminance.”
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Go Cardinals?
How’s your NCAA bracket doing? Busted? Well, maybe you should’ve picked your teams based on which ones turn the highest profit. The Atlantic analyzed the financial data and, voilà, their bracket correctly predicted nine of the teams in the Sweet Sixteen.
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Atwood in the Twittersphere
I dare you not to be charmed by Margaret Atwood’s account of becoming a Twitter user. “Despite their sometimes strange appearances, I’m well pleased with my followers.” (via kottke)
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Tuesday New Release Day: Auster; Whitaker; Lobo; Appelfeld; Reve
New this week: 4321 by Paul Auster; The Animators by Kayla Rae Whitaker; Mr. Iyer Goes to War by Ryan Lobo; The Man Who Never Stopped Sleeping by Aharon Appelfeld; and The Evenings by Gerard Reve. For more on these and other new titles, go read our most recent book preview.
A Touch of Worldliness
To celebrate National Poetry Month, The Atlantic’s Twitter book club is reading (and discussing) The Ecco Anthology of International Poetry. Follow along on Twitter @1book140.
OK, this is complicated
Nigella Lawson, British domestic goddess and former book critic, seems to have offended her novelist friend Sophie Waugh in a move reminiscent of the beginnings the hallowed hissy fit between V.S. Naipaul and Paul Theroux.
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