It's a spicy gumbo that combines all sorts of pulpy goodness: fuck-you cynicism of cyberpunk, the grit and swagger of 1930's hard-boiled detective fiction, and the off-kilter nostalgia and woozy charm of retro-fitted sci-fi -- that the author has dubbed "Diesel Punk."
New Haven is a town in the not-so-distant future of android cops and flying cars that seems to have more than its fair share of mean streets, nasty secrets and serial killers, a dystopian hellhole where the wealthy and powerful live their sheltered, pampered lives high above the squirming, desperate masses sweating it out on the streets of some cockeyed, runaway American dream.
And plunged smack dab in the middle of it all is Mick, a cynical, wisecracking amnesiac still trying to piece together who he is, while hiring out as a freelance troubleshooter, working both sides of the law.
You'll recognize Mick immediately. After all, you're supposed to. He's "taken from familiar stock," the author says, "that strong, world-weary mug usually seen with a couple of day's worth of stubble on his chin, a cigarette hanging from his lip, and his eyes shadowed by a fedora. He's obviously influenced by the literary giants who came before: Philip Marlow, Sam Spade, Mike Hammer. He's a touch of Bogart, and even a dash of Indiana Jones... But make not mistake. Mick Trubble is his own man, and any chump who says different might end up getting his ugly mug rearranged."
NOVELLAS & SHORT STORIES
Report respectfully submitted by Kevin Burton Smith.
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