“No amount of analysis can convey the quality of In Another Country, And Besides. It is a truly gripping story, told in a lean, hard prose. Mr. Jacobs knows how not only to make words be specific but how to arrange a collection of words which shall betray a great deal more than is to be found in the individual parts. It is magnificent writing, and even better story, filled with that organic action which gives a compelling picture of character.” — Publishers Weekly
“Having known Maxwell for some years and seen him develop his writing style I can honestly say he packs a whole character into a phrase, an entire situation into a sentence and he makes each word count three or four ways. The story In Another Country, And Besides, as it seems to this writer, at least, is a uniquely exciting novel. It is a moving and beautiful story.
— Valerie Hemingway
My latest novel, In Another Country and Besides, is out now!
IT was dark now as it always became dark quickly after sunset. The wind was in from the east, and a smell of sewage came across the canal. I turned back to the north so the odor wasn’t as strong. I knew I was alone. I could see prisms in the dark canal water stretching ahead with calmness. The clouds were building up in the sky and gave a blurred reflection onto the water. It always feels lonely on the streets of Venice, and I thought how some men feared being alone.Read full article
Grin and Bear it, a short story
The rain had been falling for weeks, and I along with my comrades in arms were bloody soaked—soaked in our trenches, soaked in our dugouts, we either slept in wet clothes or stood with boots full of water.
“Grin and bear it lads,” our sergeant blurted as he slogged into our trench. To illustrate, he grabbed off his boot and drained it into the mud, he cried, “Aye! You see?” Which he followed with a belly laugh that rumbled like a Howitzer. It was a most ludicrous sight, our sergeant, boot in hand with yellow water spilling forth, swaying as he made mockery of our situation. It was too much for the men, and myself included.
Sixtieth Mission, a short story
March 10, 1942 was my sixtieth mission. From now on I’d be eligible for rotation home. It was a happy prospect. Since I’d joined the 36th Fighter Group, a lot of good friends hadn’t made it as far as I had.
They’d either been killed or were missing in action. Among them were pals I’d had gone to flying school with, but the biggest loss for all of us was Major Albert E. “Easy” Miles, our squadron commander. His chute got caught on the tail of his plane when he had to bail out. He went in with his plane. “Easy” Miles was one of the bravest men I have ever known.
Liberation, a short story
We reached Paris at just ten minutes past eight by my watch. I felt like pinching myself. It was hard to believe I was back. The city was clear and warm and lovely. My first wish was to head to one of my favorite cafés and drink a nice cold beer. I had lived in Paris before the war and coming back felt like coming home. Paris was always Paris. You changed as it changed. The smells were still there, the cafés, the trees, the faces. They were all still there as they had always been. Even on a day like today when all of the joy and excitement of the city came sudden to me. The tops of the high white buildings, the closed doors of the small shops, the herb sellers, the stationary and newspaper shops.Read full article
There, After, a short story
Tom was tall and dark with a big well-groomed mustache that flicked out at the edges. He had been a good solider and looked very much like a solider. He had fought hard from January to May in the Battle of Monte Cassino. He had seen some horrible things in that battle and had been injured and sent home.
Mike Goodall, who Tom had known since high school, ran the main grocery store. They were good friends and Mike had given Tom the upstairs room and a job when Tom came back from the war. Tom took his meals every night with Mike and Mike’s family.