PRELUDE TO THE MASSACRE, by Stan Miller

All  Due Respect recently got lucky. Very lucky.

That’s because a man who writes under the name Stan Miller offered us his incredible book, Prelude To The Massacre.

We’ve never read anything like it, you’ve never read anything like it, we can assure you.

Here is the synopsis:

Prelude to the Massacre tells the story of Lee Williams, who, on being mistakenly released early from prison, is confronted with the poverty, unemployment and crime of Recession Arizona.  As Lee struggles to survive and combat his own demons he comes under the influence of his cousin Jeff, a deranged, disfigured Iraq war veteran, militia member and Neo-Nazi prophet.  A vicious chemistry forms between the two and a race into madness begins.  But are the stakes even higher than Lee imagined?  Are they in fact, the World?

Okay, that’s a nice outline, I guess, but the only way to really experience this terror of a book is to read it cover-to-cover. Which is what we did, quickly, after digesting the first sentence. It seems Mr. Miller took our submissions page seriously where we write:

What we want: low-life literature. Criminals, thugs, douchebags, cheaters, gamblers, pickpockets, ne’er-do-wells, guns, cigarettes, bath salts, booze, beer, strippers, whores, wheelers, dealers, schemers, robbers, adulterers, embezzlers, loan sharks, losers, and lottery winners (who are, of course, losers).

All at 100 mph with the brake lines cut and a shitload of speed running through its veins.

What we don’t want: straight-laced, upstanding folk of any kind. White House-‘n-terrorism thrillers. Police procedurals. Amateur detectives. Professional detectives. Mysteries. Cats that do anything besides be cats.

Prelude To The Massacre is a completely uncompromising look at people and places and events that are truly criminal and truly awful–and completely believable. It’s not a horror novel, not at all, but, it’ll scare the shit out of you.

Coming summer of 2016.

Stan Miller was born in 1981 in Reading, Pennsylvania.  Dead Steel had eighteen years to kill him but it failed.  An economic drop out of Bard College and a graduate of Temple University, he’s lived in Sicily, Spain, Mexico, New York City, Phoenix at the nadir of the recession, and Hollywood.  He currently resides in California’s Central Valley, where they murder in the streets and walk away clean.  He likes animals more than people.

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