B O O K S W O R T H B U R N I N G
Paul D. Miller
Albrecht Drue, ghostpuncher.
Albrecht Drue, ghostpuncher. punches ghosts, right in their goddamn ghostfaces.
Al’s a shady drunk who used to be a fighter, but now spends his time pounding shots and starting brawls at his local pub. After a particularly nasty fracas, he gets his wasted ass lost in a haunted ghetto where he runs afoul of the ghost of a brutal seventies-era pimp. With said pimp-ghost threatening to shuffle him right off the mortal coil, Al reaches back and punches that mother#$%&@# straight to Hell. Once he sobers up and takes stock of what just went down, Al realizes he’s got something he never had before: a reason to drag himself out of his $#%&@ life and find somethingreal in the unreal world. See, Al lives in the Quiet City of Bitburg, a place whose residents have turned a blind eyeto the messed-up paranormal #$@% infesting their home since its inception. The rotting metropolis hides innumerable unnatural horrors, and one little ghostpuncher ain’t gonna be enough to fight them all. Now Al don’t know #$%@ about all that. But he’s gonna learn quick, because Bitburg is an old place with a past darker than his blackest blackout, and the things lurking in that darkness aren’t likely to take too kindly to the light he’s about to shine on them. With a little help from some unlikely friends and whole $%#&load of booze, he might just survive the tropes and trials that come with playing his part in the horror story unfolding around him.
“I can still smell the stale beer and ectoplasm.” —Brian Jacobson
“...Bukowski meets Bachman.” —Pete Peru
“Albrecht Drue, ghostpuncher. delivers action and laughs, with a big boozy grin. — SS Whitaker
“Paul Miller’s Albrecht Drue Ghostpuncher... pulls you in and hits you with paranormal visions with a technicolor punch.” —Gabriel Boyer
“A bizarro must read!” —James Bodden
“Paul Miller has managed to create a saga so drenched in beautiful filth and visceral savagery that the laughs come from a place of fantastic, surreal fatalism — or just the gallows. A fever-dream of violence and visceral humanity, written masterfully and with an incomparable wit. Macabre, funny, poetic, uncompromising.” — Nicholas Morine