THE DOWNRIVER HORSESHOE draws its stories from the landscapes and people of the industrial, south side of Metro Detroit called Downriver. It is Americana with a gritty, blue-collar twist-filled with quirky, rough-hewn characters like Duke Peterson, a retired cookie-truck driver who, at the behest of his nasty, invalid wife, has to hock his grandfather's old shotguns to make rent; there is George Rimbaud, a morally confused mailman who continually crosses the line and intertwines his life (and sex life) with people along his route; and also Simon Touhy, a young man who falls in love with a prosthetic leg found at his worksite on Mt. Trashmore, a landfill converted to public ski slope. With the luck and pride of Downriver at their side, these men march on, making the best decisions they can in an area that can be bleak and beautiful and dangerous on the same block.
All of the stories have previously appeared in nationally distributed magazines such as "LIT," "Cimarron Review," "Storyglossia," "Beloit Fiction Journal," "The MacGuffin," "Atticus Review," "Crime Factory," "Needle: A Magazine of Noir," "Thieves Jargon," "Avatar Review" and "Pebble Lake Review."
Praise for THE DOWNRIVER HORSESHOE:
Every story in THE DOWNRIVER HORSESHOE is full of secrets, and so many of the lines keep surprising me. The way Scott Miles sees the world is fresh and effortless, like a kid coming across a new animal he's never seen before. What do you name it? How do you describe its sound? That's the experience-except with strippers, suicide, brutality, and a whole lot of pain.
-Anthony Neil Smith, author of ALL THE YOUNG WARRIORS
Scott Miles's writing is funny and dark, often on the same page. His compelling characters and original stories make THE DOWNRIVER HORSESHOE a must-read collection. Highly recommended.
-Steve Weddle, author of COUNTRY HARDBALL
Good writers know how to flip a phrase, coin a simile. A great writer, like Scott Miles, makes other writers want to steal from him. Visiting and revisiting Scott's stories are like hitchhiking barefooted on the side of the road. As you scan for signposts, you cut the soles of your feet on shards of shattered glass. The jagged edges sting, prick, and splinter your skin, and you're sure you'll never make it to the ball on time. But once you get past the pain, you're amazed by how the pieces fit and form a whole-not of a magic slipper-but a steel-tipped work boot made of grit and kerosene.
-Dan Cafaro, Founder and Publisher, ATTICUS BOOKS