I am looking forward to reading this biography of James Tiptree, Jr./Alice Sheldon.
The story is familiar enough, and Phillips takes it as true, which it almost certainly is (to a point). Alli and Ting are shopping in town. Alli needs a pseudonym for the stories she’s about to put in the mail. She sees a jar of Tiptree Jam, and says “James Tiptree.” Ting says “Junior.” So far so good. Good joke: Except that nothing in Alli’s life was ever just a joke. She is more retentive of the meaning and shape of every aspect of her life than anyone else I have ever met, in life or print (Severian excepted, maybe).