Adventures of Cash Laramie and Gideon Miles by Edward A. Grainger
I have a confession to make. As a general rule, I don’t read Westerns. I find that too often the stories get lost in the author’s desire to provide the reader with every little period-accurate detail they’ve researched, and bogged down with unwieldy “cowboy” lingo in the dialog. And while that may appeal to some, it’s just not my cup of tea.
I have another confession to make. Edward A. Grainger, aka David Cranmer, is turning me into a convert. You see, Cranmer doesn’t write Westerns per se, he writes well-crafted stories with engaging characters that just happen to take place in the Old West. And he does it very, very well. Don’t get me wrong, the adventures of Cash Laramie and Gideon Miles are unquestionably Westerns, but Cranmer never loses sight of the real prize: character and story. And that makes all the difference in the world to this reluctant reader of Westerns.
It helps that Cash Laramie and Gideon Miles, both U.S. Marshals, are charismatic and unique individuals. Laramie is known to display an unorthodox streak as questionable as the outlaws he hunts, his behavior often fueled by the approach to life that was ingrained in him having been raised by Native Americans. For his part, Miles brings the challenge of being one of the first black Marshals into play, showing how his status as a black man in the 1880s Old West can make both all the difference in the world and none whatsoever to how he does the job… often at the same time. (more…)
Having previously read Julie Morrigan’s short stories various places online, I was quite pleased when she offered her first collection, the outstanding
Over the past nine days I’ve reviewed four short story collections (Crime Factory: The First Shift, West Coast Crime Wave, The Chaos We Know, and Noir at the Bar), am serving up Pulp Modern today, and have at least two more on the immediate horizon. Clearly the crime fiction/pulp/noir short story is enjoying a resurgence in popularity.
Birthed in the mean streets of Philly, escaped to the back alleys of St. Louis, recently spread to the dark side of the City of Angels, there’s a disturbing phenomenon that threatens to expand to even more unwitting cities in the future. It is… Noir at the Bar.
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I don’t know how to pray but I close my eyes and ask God for help anyway. God doesn’t answer, doesn’t even send happy thoughts, just reruns of nightmares. – “Plastic Soldiers”
From the bestselling author of The Blade Itself and Good People comes an anthology of short stories, Scar Tissue: Seven Stories About Love and Wounds. 










