From the first singular sentence, Banker's Holiday — a euphemism for a federal bank closure — conjures the bleak and humorous world of Cincinnatus Stillman Fuller, a billionaire financier who unravels in the middle of a Monday morning staff meeting. In a flash of grim clarity, Fuller comes to the sudden, disturbing realization that his "brooding, luxurious zombies, otherwise known as senior management" have become just that, and that he must either escape, or become one of them. Fuller flees his discorporate horror, disguises himself as a janitor, and heads crosscountry in an old pick-up, eventually finding his way to an odd Shangri-la in New England. But will he escape the bizarre phantasms that continue to dog him? And can anyone dispel a thousand-foot Nixon?
Part magical realism, part "corporate fantasy and horror," Gary Clemenceau's highly prescient debut novel (originally written in 1997) — now unexpurgated for the first time — illustrates Capitalism's mid-life crisis, and offers a unique solution to the problem of being human in an increasingly inhuman world.
