Tiptree winner and shortlist

I can now tell you all that we selected Matt Ruff's Set This House in Order as the winner of the 2003 Tiptree Award. The press release, including comments on Ruff's book and our shortlist, is at http://www.tiptree.org/press/20040330.html.

We're still finishing the long list, and we need to write a bit about why we picked what we did for the shortlist. brisingamen, I'd be happy to write about Fudoki, and could probably at least help with several of the others.

Tiptree winner and shortlist

I can now tell you all that we selected Matt Ruff's Set This House in Order as the winner of the 2003 Tiptree Award. The press release, including comments on Ruff's book and our shortlist, is at http://www.tiptree.org/press/20040330.html.

We're still finishing the long list, and we need to write a bit about why we picked what we did for the shortlist. brisingamen, I'd be happy to write about Fudoki, and could probably at least help with several of the others.

I appear to have a touch of claustrophobia

I went out to Brooklyn this afternoon, with the intention of helping L build shelves in her rented storage area, move things around, and so on.

The rented storage area is a basement under a storefront, the kind that you get into through those folding metal doors in the sidewalk [1]. We had some difficulty getting in; it eventually transpired that, in addition to the padlock, the door was bolted from inside, though neither L nor the woman she rents the space from remembers bolting it (and it seems unlikely that L could have bolted it, because she'd have had to be inside, and would then not have been able to exit through that door). That was resolved, the door was swung open, and I went down a fairly steep stairway. The basement area is, at the moment, lit by a single 200-watt bulb (upgraded from the 60W that was there when L rented it). For reasons of passerby safety and related liability issues, the landlady wants the door closed except when people are actually going in and out.

So we were in there, trying to figure out what to do first, and which boxes to move how, when I realized I wasn't comfortable. Now, I actively like subways (in the Metro/underground train sense; pedestrian underpasses are neutral). But in this case I was in a fairly small space, with little light and no ventilation, and I didn't like it.

We changed plans, reopened the door, removed some trash, and went over to L's apartment, where we drank tea and talked, and L did some rearrangement of stuff, preparatory to electricians showing up next week. (Yes, there's a lot of stuff involved here: L's late mother was at least as much of a packrat as she is, and stuff had been accumulating for more than 40 years.) And she'll find someone else to help her with lifting and rearrangement at the storage area--and keep her company, because while it doesn't make her claustrophobic, she doesn't especially want to be alone there either.

The only unqualified success of the day is that I got to Sahadi, restocked on tea and dried cherries, and bought some interesting-looking cookies. However, I just got email from L, thanking me for coming by and helping make her day more productive.

[1] The doors are basically flush to the ground; when unlocked, they swing open, providing access via a steep stairway (or, in some cases, a ladder).

I appear to have a touch of claustrophobia

I went out to Brooklyn this afternoon, with the intention of helping L build shelves in her rented storage area, move things around, and so on.

The rented storage area is a basement under a storefront, the kind that you get into through those folding metal doors in the sidewalk [1]. We had some difficulty getting in; it eventually transpired that, in addition to the padlock, the door was bolted from inside, though neither L nor the woman she rents the space from remembers bolting it (and it seems unlikely that L could have bolted it, because she'd have had to be inside, and would then not have been able to exit through that door). That was resolved, the door was swung open, and I went down a fairly steep stairway. The basement area is, at the moment, lit by a single 200-watt bulb (upgraded from the 60W that was there when L rented it). For reasons of passerby safety and related liability issues, the landlady wants the door closed except when people are actually going in and out.

So we were in there, trying to figure out what to do first, and which boxes to move how, when I realized I wasn't comfortable. Now, I actively like subways (in the Metro/underground train sense; pedestrian underpasses are neutral). But in this case I was in a fairly small space, with little light and no ventilation, and I didn't like it.

We changed plans, reopened the door, removed some trash, and went over to L's apartment, where we drank tea and talked, and L did some rearrangement of stuff, preparatory to electricians showing up next week. (Yes, there's a lot of stuff involved here: L's late mother was at least as much of a packrat as she is, and stuff had been accumulating for more than 40 years.) And she'll find someone else to help her with lifting and rearrangement at the storage area--and keep her company, because while it doesn't make her claustrophobic, she doesn't especially want to be alone there either.

The only unqualified success of the day is that I got to Sahadi, restocked on tea and dried cherries, and bought some interesting-looking cookies. However, I just got email from L, thanking me for coming by and helping make her day more productive.

[1] The doors are basically flush to the ground; when unlocked, they swing open, providing access via a steep stairway (or, in some cases, a ladder).