The Terminal Bar

Larry Mitchell’s super-sophisticated nymphs and fauns live on a brink that might be a new frontier. As America collapses, these marvelous mutants huddle in their uncertain sanctuary: the chaotic, quixotic, quicksand of the Terminal Bar. Whole-wits in a half-world, they’re trying to live in society determined to die, trying to love among cannibals, write among illiterates, think among lobotomites . . . It’s Waugh and Peace, Perelman before swing, the Firbank of America, Isherwood to keep the home fires burning. Yes, these gallant gremlins do exist, and nowhere more vividly than in Mitchell’s brave book.