On the Books: Gabriel Garcia Marquez' work is going digital

The oeuvre of one of the past century’s most beloved authors is going digital. On Monday, Publisher Vintage announced it would publish nine e-books in English by Colombian author and Nobel Prize winner Gabriel García Márquez. The titles set for release include classics like Love in the Time of Cholera and Chronicle of a Death Foretold, though the novel many consider Márquez’ masterpiece, One Hundred Years of Solitude, remains conspicuously absent. That’s because another publisher holds its English-language rights.

Spanish speakers are in luck, though, because 18 of the author’s titles will be digitally published in their original Spanish. Editions in both languages will be released Oct. 15, about six months after Márquez’ April death. These books aren’t the only classics enjoying a digital renaissance. Another publisher announced last week that Charles Dickens’ novels would soon come to e-readers in their original, serialized format. [L.A. Times]

Thanks to The Green Mile and Lost, Stephen King and J.J. Abrams are no strangers to the art of serialization. Soon they’ll collaborate on a nine-hour adaptation of King’s 2011 thriller, 11/22/63, slated for release on Hulu. [USA Today]

A film adaptation of L. Frank Baum’s fictional universe may be better known that the novel that spawned it—the author is responsible for the 1902 book, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz—but New Line Cinema has just picked up a script for a biopic about the man. The film, tentatively titled “Road to Oz,” will follow Baum’s path to becoming an author, which included forays into careers as a poultry breeder and traveling salesman. When he began to write, Baum’s early feminism set him apart from his peers and made him a controversial figure. [L.A. Times]

If only Baum could see Australian photographer Russell James’ new book. Angels is a 304-page, coffee table collection of James’ usual subjects—Victoria’s Secret models—posing for black and white photos. The difference? This time round they’ve lost even the feeble strips of lacy cloth they usually wear. [The Telegraph]