Items related to Callahan's Con
The discreet little bar that Jake Stonebender established a few blocks below Duval Street was named simply The Place. There, Fast Eddie Costigan learned to curse back at parrots as he played the house piano; the Reverend Tom Hauptman learned to tend bar bare-chested (without blushing), Long-Drink McGonnigle discovered the margarita and several señoritas, and all the other regulars settled into comfortable subtropical niches of their own. Nobody even noticed them save the universe.
Over time, the twice-transplanted patrons of Callahan’s Place attracted a collection of local zanies so quintessentially Key West pixilated that they made the New York originals seem, well, almost normal. The elfin little Key deer, for instance—with a stevedore’s mouth; or the merman with eczema; or Robert Heinlein’s teleporting cat.
For ten slow, merry years, life was good. The sun shone, the coffee dripped, the breeze blew just strongly enough to dissipate the smell of the puns, and little supergenius Erin grew to the verge of adolescence. Then disaster struck.
Through the gate one sunny day came a malevolent, moronic, mastodon of a Mafioso named Tony Donuts Jr., or Little Nuts (don’t ask). He’d decided to resurrect the classic protection racket in Key West—and guess which tavern he picked to hit first? Then, thanks to very poor accessorizing (she chose the wrong belt—and no, we’re not going to explain that one), Jake’s wife, Zoey, suddenly found herself in a place with no light, no heat, and no air. And no way home. The urgent question was where—precisely where—but that turned out to be a problem so complex that even the entire gang, equipped with teleportation, time travel, and telepathic syntony (you can look it up) might not be able to crack it in time.
And while all this was going on, Death himself walked into The Place. But this time he would not leave alone. . . .
Over time, the twice-transplanted patrons of Callahan’s Place attracted a collection of local zanies so quintessentially Key West pixilated that they made the New York originals seem, well, almost normal. The elfin little Key deer, for instance—with a stevedore’s mouth; or the merman with eczema; or Robert Heinlein’s teleporting cat.
For ten slow, merry years, life was good. The sun shone, the coffee dripped, the breeze blew just strongly enough to dissipate the smell of the puns, and little supergenius Erin grew to the verge of adolescence. Then disaster struck.
Through the gate one sunny day came a malevolent, moronic, mastodon of a Mafioso named Tony Donuts Jr., or Little Nuts (don’t ask). He’d decided to resurrect the classic protection racket in Key West—and guess which tavern he picked to hit first? Then, thanks to very poor accessorizing (she chose the wrong belt—and no, we’re not going to explain that one), Jake’s wife, Zoey, suddenly found herself in a place with no light, no heat, and no air. And no way home. The urgent question was where—precisely where—but that turned out to be a problem so complex that even the entire gang, equipped with teleportation, time travel, and telepathic syntony (you can look it up) might not be able to crack it in time.
And while all this was going on, Death himself walked into The Place. But this time he would not leave alone. . . .
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From the Back Cover:
Raves for Spider Robinson
“Spider Robinson is the hottest writer to hit science fiction since [Harlan] Ellison.”
—Los Angeles Times
“Spider Robinson’s the antidote for entropy, the blahs, and the pernicious notion that humor and good grace are absent from the SF field.”
—Ben Bova
“Spider Robinson is the Tom Robbins of the 21st century.”
—John Varley
“How the hell is any self-respecting author supposed to compete with a storyteller as good as Spider Robinson?”
—David Gerrold
“Robinson knows how to generate tension without losing his sense of humor, a more difficult trick than you might imagine.”
—The New York Times
About the Author:
“Spider Robinson is the hottest writer to hit science fiction since [Harlan] Ellison.”
—Los Angeles Times
“Spider Robinson’s the antidote for entropy, the blahs, and the pernicious notion that humor and good grace are absent from the SF field.”
—Ben Bova
“Spider Robinson is the Tom Robbins of the 21st century.”
—John Varley
“How the hell is any self-respecting author supposed to compete with a storyteller as good as Spider Robinson?”
—David Gerrold
“Robinson knows how to generate tension without losing his sense of humor, a more difficult trick than you might imagine.”
—The New York Times
Spider Robinson, winner of three Hugos and a Nebula, was born in the Bronx and raised on Long Island, and has been a Canadian resident for 30 years. Holder of a bachelor's degree in English from the State University of New York, he worked as a folksinger and journalist before publishing his first story in Analog in 1973. He now lives with his wife Jeanne Robinson (co-author of the Hugo- and Nebula-winning Stardance trilogy) on an island outside Vancouver, B.C., where they raise and exhibit hopes.
Eleven of his 31 books are set in Callahan's Place, a fabulous tavern founded by a time traveler, where puns flow as freely as beer, and smell far worse. The most recent is Callahan's Con [Tor July 2003]. He has contributed a regular editorial column, "Future Tense," to Canada's national newspaper, The Globe & Mail, since 1995. In 2000, he released Belaboring the Obvious, a CD of original music with the legendary Amos Garrett ("Midnight at the Oasis") on lead guitar, and in 2001 he was a celebrity judge at the Cannabis Cup in Amsterdam.
Eleven of his 31 books are set in Callahan's Place, a fabulous tavern founded by a time traveler, where puns flow as freely as beer, and smell far worse. The most recent is Callahan's Con [Tor July 2003]. He has contributed a regular editorial column, "Future Tense," to Canada's national newspaper, The Globe & Mail, since 1995. In 2000, he released Belaboring the Obvious, a CD of original music with the legendary Amos Garrett ("Midnight at the Oasis") on lead guitar, and in 2001 he was a celebrity judge at the Cannabis Cup in Amsterdam.
"About this title" may belong to another edition of this title.
- PublisherTor Books
- Publication date2003
- ISBN 10 0765302705
- ISBN 13 9780765302700
- BindingHardcover
- Number of pages288
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Callahan's Con
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Tor Books, New York, New York, U.S.A.
(2003)
ISBN 10: 0765302705
ISBN 13: 9780765302700
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Book Description Hardcover. Condition: New. Dust Jacket Condition: New. First Edition. Science Fiction hardback with dustjacket, 1st Edition, 7/03. Book condition is as new, no wear, writing or stamps, Dust Jacket is also in like new condition.*We have other titles in this genre in stock and give discounts in shipping on additional books sent in the same package, please contact us for more info.**.WRAPPED IN A PLASTIC BAG TO PROTECT CONDITION OF BOOK.Summary - "The discreet little bar that Jake Stonebender established a few blocks below Duval Street was named simply The Place. There, Fast Eddie Costigan learned to curse back at parrots as he played the house piano; the Reverend Tom Hauptman learned to tend bar bare-chested (without blushing), Long-Drink McGonnigle discovered the margarita and several se±oritas, and all the other regulars settled into comfortable subtropical niches of their own. Nobody even noticed them save the universe. Over time, the twice-transplanted patrons of Callahan's Place attracted a collection of local zanies so quintessentially Key West pixilated that they made the New York originals seem, well, almost normal. The elfin little Key deer, for instance-with a stevedore's mouth; or the merman with eczema; or Robert Heinlein's teleporting cat. For ten slow, merry years, life was good. The sun shone, the coffee dripped, the breeze blew just strongly enough to dissipate the smell of the puns, and little supergenius Erin grew to the verge of adolescence. Then disaster struck. Through the gate one sunny day came a malevolent, moronic, mastodon of a Mafioso named Tony Donuts Jr., or Little Nuts (don't ask). He'd decided to resurrect the classic protection racket in Key West-and guess which tavern he picked to hit first? Then, thanks to very poor accessorizing (she chose the wrong belt-and no, we're not going to explain that one), Jake's wife, Zoey, suddenly found herself in a place with no light, no heat, and no air. And no way home. The urgent question was where-precisely where-but that turned out to be a problem so complex that even the entire gang, equipped with teleportation, time travel, and telepathic syntony (you can look it up) might not be able to crack it in time. And while all this was going on, Death himself walked into The Place. But this time he would not leave alone. Seller Inventory # 111408001
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