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- Herausgeber: Wildside Press
- Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
- Sprache: Englisch
Grannie Annie, who wrote science fiction under the nom de plume of Annabella C. Flowers, had stumbled onto a murderous plot more hair-raising than any she had ever concocted. And the danger from the villain of the piece didn't worry her—I was the guy he was shooting at...
Classic science fiction by acclaimed author Carl Jacobe! Includes an introduction by John Betancourt.
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Seitenzahl: 34
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021
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Table of Contents
COPYRIGHT INFORMATION
INTRODUCTION
DOCTOR UNIVERSE
COPYRIGHT INFORMATION
Copyright © 2021 by Wildside Press LLC.
Introduction copyright © 2021 by John Betancourt.
Text copyright © 1944 by Carl Jacobi.
Originally published in Planet Stories, Fall 1944.
Published by Wildside Press LLC.
wildsidepress.com | bcmystery.com
INTRODUCTION
Carl Richard Jacobi (1908–1997) was an American journalist and author. He was born in Minneapolis, Minnesota in 1904 and lived there throughout his life. He was a voracious reader, starting at an early age with Jules Verne, Edgar Allan Poe, H.G. Wells, and the Frank Merriwell and Tom Swift boys’ adventure books. He was always a writer; at his junior high school he earned pocket-money concocting his own ‘dime novels’ (actually short story booklets) and selling them to fellow students as 10 cents apiece.
He attended the University of Minnesota from 1927 to 1930, majoring in English Literature, where he began his writing career in campus magazines and was an undergraduate classmate of Donald Wandrei. He wrote of this period that “I tried to divide my time between rhetoric courses and the geology lab. As an underclassman I was somewhat undecided whether future life would find me studying rocks and fossils or simply pounding a typewriter. The typewriter won.”
Today he is primarily remembered for short stories in the science fiction, fantasy, and horror pulp magazines such as Planet Stories, Ghost Stories, Startling Stories, Thrilling Wonder Stories and Strange Stories. Less familiar to modern readers are his crime and adventure stories, which appeared in such pulps as Thrilling Adventures, Complete Stories, Top-Notch, Short Stories, The Skipper, Doc Savage and Dime Adventures Magazine.
Jacobi was one of the last surviving pulp-fictioneers to have contributed to the legendary American horror magazine Weird Tales during its “glory days” in the 1920s and 1930s. He was also a member of the “Lovecraft Circle,” writers in correspondence with Lovecraft, who often shared ideas and critiques of one another’s works.
His story “Mive” (Weird Tales, 1932) brought him payment of 25 dollars—and a letter of praise from Lovecraft, who wrote: “‘Mive’ pleases me immensely, and I told Wright that I was glad to see at least one story whose weirdness of incident was made convincing by adequate emotional preparation and suitably developed atmosphere.” Lovecraft commended Jacobi’s work to August Derleth and thereby helped set up the long-term relationship Arkham House would have with Jacobi. Arkham House published most of his short story collections.
Jacobi’s 1932 story “The Monument” was submitted only once—to Weird Tales. It was not submitted subsequently, but was discovered in a filing cabinet when R. Dixon Smith was researching his biography, Lost in the Rentharpian Hills: Spanning the Decades with Carl Jacobi (1985) and finally saw print when included by Smith in Jacobi’s short story collection, Smoke of the Snake (1994).
Wildside Press has been working to bring all of Jacobi’s classic tales back into print.
—John Gregory Betancourt
Cabin John, Maryland.
DOCTOR UNIVERSE
I was killing an hour in the billiard room of the Spacemen’s Club in Swamp City when the Venusian bellboy came and tapped me on the shoulder.
“Beg pardon, thir,” he said with his racial lisp, “thereth thome one to thee you in the main lounge.” His eyes rolled as he added, “A lady!”
A woman here...! The Spacemen’s was a sanctuary, a rest club where in-coming pilots and crewmen could relax before leaving for another voyage. The rule that no females could pass its portals was strictly enforced.
I followed the bellhop down the long corridor that led to the main lounge. At the threshold I jerked to a halt and stared incredulously.
Grannie Annie!
There she stood before a frantically gesticulating desk clerk, leaning on her faded green umbrella. A little wisp of a woman clad in a voluminous black dress with one of those doily-like caps on her head, tied by a ribbon under her chin. Her high-topped button shoes were planted firmly on the varpla carpet and her wrinkled face was set in calm defiance.
