The Lambda Literary Awards are administered by the Lambda Literary Foundation, the country’s leading organization for LGBT literature. Their mission is to celebrate that literature and provide resources for writers, readers, booksellers, publishers, and librarians.  The 19th Lambda Literary Awards were held on Thursday, May 31st and my book was up for TWO Lammy's!

I arrived an hour before the ceremony, deeply honored to be up for an award that over the years has been given to Michael Cunningham, Tony Kushner, Edmund White, Paul Monette, David Sedaris, David Rakoff, Stacey D'Erasmo, Martin Moran, Alan Hollinghurst, Dorothy Allison, Larry Kramer, Randy Shilts, Alan Berube, Audre Lorde, George Chauncy, Mark Doty, Adrienne Rich, Clive Barker, Holly Hughes, Craig Lucas, John Cameron Mitchell, Allan Gurganus, Jamie O'Neill, Sarah Waters, Colm Toibin, Dan Savage, Alison Smith, and Doug Wright...to name two or three.

The reception was packed.  As I sipped club soda and chatted with different writers and friends, several people spilled wine on me.  But it was all good.  No worries.  I sought out my fellow finalists in the Gay Debut Fiction category.  I made the time to read their books the previous week and loved them all, proud to have Suspension included in their company--a great mix of styles and subject matter.  I recommend them all:  A Scarecrow's Bible by Martin Hyatt, The Zookeeper by Alex MacLennan, Send Me by Patrick Ryan, and 5 Minutes & 42 Seconds by Timothy Williams.

I finally met myspace pal, Hilary Carlip, who was also a double finalist for her hilarious book, Queen of the Oddballs and I got to spend some more time with fellow Harper Perenellian, Josh Kilmer-Purcell, whose bestselling I Am Not Myself These Days is one of my favorite memoirs.  Besides being a supremely talented writer, Josh is also one of the most generous--an early champion of Suspension and frequent advice dispenser.

The reception ended and the auditorium opened.  People weren't sure where to sit--there were very few reserved places.  I handed my bag to my friend, Tessa, and headed to the bathroom--nerves and a lot of club soda.  Because of a misunderstanding, Tessa didn't save me a seat, so when I returned to the auditorium, all the chairs were taken.  I climbed the steps to the top and sat on the floor with Carrie and Jen from Harper Perennial. 

The ceremony began.  The first award was given to my new friend, Ellis Avery, for her debut, The Teahouse Fire.  Hmmmm.  Charles Flowers, the executive director of Lambda Literary, had invited Ellis Avery and yours truly to participate in some radio interviews leading up to the ceremony.  I was on Sirius Radio with Larry Flick on Tuesday and it was during that interview that I realized Charles knew who the winners were and there was a distinct possibility that the reason I was asked was because I was going to receive the award for debut, so when Ellis skipped up the stairs, prize-in-hand, I thought, I better come up with a speech.  But then I thought:  "Don't get your hopes up.  Don't expect anything.  You didn't even get a seat!  You're sitting on the floor like a third-grader." 

My category was announced.  Each book was described as its cover was projected onto a screen above the stage.  And then there was mine.  The heart skipped a beat, but I was also genuinely pleased to hear the summary and see my name.  "Hey, that's my book."  After the final book was profiled, all of our names and titles were projected.  I was happy to be on the floor where it was easier to hide. 

"Suspension.  Robert Westfield."  WHOO-HOO!!!!  But externally, I was calm.  I descended the stairs and remember feeling very much in the moment, able to come up with a speech and not make an ass of myself.

I returned to the joyful embrace of Carrie and Jennifer and we all sat down on our patch of carpet.  Thrilled that the award was presented early in the evening and I was able to relax, I enjoyed the serenity of just sitting on the floor and listening to the presenters and subsequent recipients.  Soon, though, my leg cramped, and I noticed people returning to the auditorium with glasses of wine.

Well, I should celebrate!  I didn't have anything to drink during the reception, and since I wasn't going to be on the stage anymore that evening, I slipped out and went downstairs.  I texted some close friends and family, had a glass of wine, made a call to my parents, had another glass of wine, chatted with a few well-wishers, had another glass of wine, and listened to the inspiring speeches by Martin Duberman and Marijane Meaker who were given Pioneer awards. 

A couple hours later we reached the final two awards.  I sat down with Carrie and Tessa--she had joined us after Jen, not expecting any more excitement, left for home.  The winner of Best Lesbian Fiction went to The Night Watch by Sarah Waters .  This was her third Lammy!!  Four times a finalist, three times a winner.  Damn.  Someone who was not Sarah Waters picked up the award for her and I recalled that one of her most famous books, Tipping the Velvet, is being made into a movie.  I sat there trying to remember what two actresses were cast in the leading roles.  "Who is it?  It's some weird combination.  Eh.  Google it at home."

Then there we were again.  Twenty-three categories after my acceptance speech.  No nerves this time.  I wasn't going anywhere.  As they read the descriptions...

• Every Visible Thing by Lisa Carey (William Morrow)
• Izzy and Eve by Neal Drinnan (Green Candy Press)
• Alternatives to Sex by Stephen McCauley (Simon & Schuster)
• Now Is the Hour by Tom Spanbauer (Houghton Mifflin)
• Suspension by Robert Westfield (Harper Perennial)

...Carrie mentioned that Lisa Carey wasn't in the audience and that if she won, someone from HarperCollins would have to go up to claim the prize.  She asked me to.  I suddenly felt a bit nervous.  I might have to go down there after all.  I tried to talk Tessa into it and then thought I shouldn't worry about it, the prize is going to go to Tom Spanbauer, one of my favorite writers, and the author of one of the year's best books.  But just in case Lisa does win, what do I say?  I'll just smile and say, 'I'll make sure Lisa gets this.'  No, I shouldn't have to...well, don't get all worked up about it...

Lost in such thoughts, I was not remotely prepared for what followed:

This speech was shorter.  And I think I'm just slightly less stunned now than I was when I walked down that staircase.  I've been busy since Thursday and find myself wondering if it all really happened, so I'll come home, walk into my living room, pick up the two heavy glass books and say to myself:  "It was not a dream.  Unless these were in the gift bags and everyone who came...no!  That can't be.  They have my name on them.  That's my name."

That's my name!!!

Click here for a fun and useful map which renames our fifty states after the countries whose GDP's their economies most resemble.  Some examples:  California and France; Texas and Canada; New York and Brazil; New Hampshire and Bangladesh; Virginia and Sweden; Michigan and Argentina; Alabama and Iran; Illinois and Mexico; Tennessee and Saudi Arabia.

I headed to Coney Island today along with many New Yorkers this summer, urged on by the likely prospect that Astroland, Coney's largest existing amusement park, open since 1963, is going to go the way of Steeplechase Park  (torn down in 1966 by Donald Trump's father for an apartment building complex that was never built).  But unlike many New Yorkers making their routine excursion, this was my first visit.  Ever.  That's right.  In seventeen years of living in New York.

After one bleak, depressing day when my Russian class visited the deserted stretch of boardwalk that ran along a needle and condom-strewn parking lot of Brighton Beach on a Wednesday in early November, 1991, I had no desire ever to take the D or the B to their termini ever again.  Mermaid Parade?  Sounds fun, I'm sure.  The beach?  I'll vacation elsewhere, thanks.  (Spending five years of my childhood on the beaches of Hawaii spoiled much of the Atlantic for me anyway.)  Even during the two years I lived in Brooklyn, I never ventured to the platform bound for Stillwell Avenue.  I didn't believe it.  There was nothing "still well" about it.  It was way past its prime.

But I always loved the idea of Coney Island.  I loved reading about its history, watching film footage, studying photographs.  For me Coney Island was the capital of Nostalgia--I had my memories of it and didn't want them polluted by actual experience.  I could easily shut my eyes and check in to one of the thirty-four rooms at the Elephant Hotel (1884-1896).  I was able to hobnob among the wealthy during the Golden Age, when three of the grandest amusement parks had just opened (Steeplechase Park [1897], Luna Park [1903] and Dreamland [1904]) and I could curse Albany when horse racing was outlawed in 1910 and the grand hotels and tracks shut down.  But reading Joseph Heller's memoir, Now and Then, or gazing at the crowds in a Weegee photo, I was just as fascinated by the new Nickel Age--in 1920, the subway, with its five-cent fare, brought millions of working class people to the ocean, and the streets were extended, the boardwalk was built, the beach was expanded by sand from offshore. 

It was time though to visit Coney.  This is the year that will go down as the last year of several NYC institutions--from Astroland to the Claremont Stables (the oldest in the nation), from the Moondance Diner to Katz's Deli (there's talk, people).  A glorious year for developers and a pathetic one for everyone else.

I boarded the A at 181st for my two-hour subway ride to the beach, stopping at West Fourth to meet up with Tessa Derfner and Colin Winterbottom and to transfer to the D.

The weather was fantastic (low seventies with a blue sky and billowy white clouds), the atmosphere was festive with the Fourth of July right around the corner and although an article on Astroland was on the front page of the City Section and the place was crowded, the only lines were at Nathan's Famous.

This emporium, by the way, was opened in 1916 by Nathan Handwerker after leaving Feltman's.  Chalres Feltman came to Coney in 1871 and is given credit for inventing the hot dog and hot dog cart.  He later opened an enormous restaurant (with beer gardens, a roller coaster, and a carousel), which was on the site that is now Astroland.

My lemonade and chili dog were delicious, but I have to admit I thought the cheese fries were disgusting.  "But you still almost finished your large order of those cheese fries."  Still, well...

We walked off our food by exploring the stretch to the west--the abandoned Child's Restaurant (and later candy factory) and what I call the Charlie Huston territory where he sets much of A Dangerous Man, the third-installment of the Hank Thompson trilogy.

Circus Circus.  Las Vegas. 1980.  Playing the sideshow game that involves a stream of water shot steadily against the target inside a clown's mouth, Robert (then Bobby) wins his first contest against complete strangers, most of whom are adults.  He wins a plastic frog coin bank that he uses for years.  (His mother probably has it in one her boxes in the garage.) 

Coney Island.  Brooklyn.  2007.  Playing that same game, Robert wins his most recent contest against complete strangers, most of whom are children.  He wins a stuffed bear in a raincoat.  Clearly, this game belongs to Robert and he only wishes he could go professional.  (Immediately after the photo is taken, he realizes he doesn't want a stuffed animal--he definitely doesn't want to carry it around all day--so he gives it to a child in a stroller.  The mother is very grateful, but not as grateful as Robert.)

Then we began the rides in Deno's Park.  We took a trip through Spook-a-Rama, a 1950's fun house, which was lamer than Tessa remembered, largely because she was thinking of the fun house in Astroland.  As my car jolted around the track, however, I was treated to the image of a car with the two Hasids pictured below shooting into the fun house beside me.  My favorite aspect of Coney Island is without a doubt the diversity of the place and the feeling, as Tessa articulated, that no one group owns the place.

And then there was the Wonder Wheel!!! 

That's right.  Swinging cars.  People line up beneath signs that say "Stationary" and "Swinging."  (Which made me smile.)   The swinging cars not only rise and fall, but they slide along tracks, careering to and fro, missing neighboring cars by inches.

The views are fabulous--the beach, the Verazzano Bridge, and the Manhattan skyline.

...actually, not all.  There was no way in hell Tessa was going on The Cyclone.  Colin, who had only been on a few roller coasters, wasn't particularly thrilled about this one.

After the Cyclone, we visited the aquarium and headed down the boardwalk to Tatiana's in Brighton Beach for Russian beer and Chicken Kiev.

Today I was able to hang with my newest friend, Phoenix Stokes Martin.  I may have been at Coney Island on the day of his birth, but I was in midtown Manhattan to celebrate his turning twenty-four hours old.  He's ageing well.

Viewers of Little Bytes might recognize Chris and Laura from the First Hoparound Tour.  Chris plays a know-it-all passerby in the "Newest Star of the Skyline."  In "20 Million Visitors, How Many Crimes," Laura visits Central Park with her three-year-old and Chris snatches him from his stroller. 

Notice how gorgeous Laura looks twenty-four hours after giving birth!!!!!

Hm.  I haven't written very many blogs this summer, but let the record show that we have posted twelve videos with accompanying notes in the last two months on the home page.  I was only able to take one vacation, which was back in July and which I'll write about soon once I assemble the pictures and finish tending to the rib that I cracked on that vacation.

Today in New York City history:  Forty-five years ago, in 1962, the lower deck of the George Washington Bridge opened, adding six more lanes to what was the longest suspension bridge in the world when it opened in 1931.  Now fourteen lanes, the GW is the busiest crossing in the region.  Every day over 300,000 vehicles utilize its span contributing over a million dollars in tolls.  During its construction, by the way, local residents dubbed the lower deck the Martha Washington.  That's more colorful than the "lower deck."

Ever stare at the spaghetti plate of the New York City subway system and wonder how it all began, how it came to be?  Here's a scintillating graphic that starts with a blank map and adds subway line by subway line in order of their construction.  Click here.