Nothing satisfies man’s tortured soul and restless craving for misadventure quite like the dive bar. Defiantly distinct from the cozy vibes implied by the word “pub,” or the sophisticated pleasures of an upscale nightclub, the dive is not the place where everyone knows your name. If the bartender is doing his job, everyone there has already forgotten their own. Yet the best dive bars—such as those celebrated here—offer a lot more than beer-and-a-shot obliteration in the film-noir glow of a neon sign. They’re dusty, unread archives of a city’s history, full of teetering tables with professional drinkers muttering bad jokes to themselves and, on a good night, a gallery of mugs that would do any police station line-up proud.