[.ca] Bacchus and Me: Adventures in the Wine Cellar (ISBN 037571362X)

From Amazon.com:
Bright lights: Krug, Latour, Lafite, Montrose. Big cities: Montalcino, Hampstead, Reims, Geyserville. Welcome to Bacchus & Me: Adventures in the Wine Cellar, bestselling novelist Jay McInerney's mixed four-case lot of wine essays culled primarily from his output of "Uncorked" pieces written for House & Garden magazine. Reflecting the author's wit and opinion, it's tasty and stylish stuff. And nestled between glossy pages of photos depicting, say, a 396-square-foot TriBeCa loft decorated with a pair of Eames chairs purchased at a Brooklyn swap meet for $45, McInerney's blend of self-deprecation (his "eyebrows raised and jaw dropped" when H & G editors broached his name as wine columnist) and irreverence (on straw-covered Chianti bottles: the "bong component of choice in dorm rooms around the world") is refreshing juice. Unfortunately, as a compilation, it serves more to unmask a Eurocentric name-dropper: the bon-mot-coining D2 dilettante on an expense account who got the gig because he knew the editor. It's distressing, because there's so much to like here: "A Ticket to the Veneto" is a sparkling meld of ego and yeast; questioning whether or not to cellar wine, he concludes, "What could be more all-American than instant gratification?"; and his dead-on description of a Port hangover is quintessential McInerney. But numerous repetitions, imperceptible when published monthly, irritate when separated not by 30 days but 30 pages: Sauvignon Blanc's aroma of "pipi du chat" is funny the first time you read it, less so two essays later; likewise you won't find a single California piece that doesn't contain the words "dude" or "Helen Turley." And while it's admirable to break the mould of stuffy wine writing, McInerney's a bit long in the tastevin to adopt a "Wine Brat" posture comparing, for example, Martinelli Jackass Hill Zin more to "Free Bird" than "Jumpin' Jack Flash," or describing his first sip of Mouton "like hearing Nirvana on Saturday Night Live." Blame it on the editor, or maybe it just depends on how you devour Bacchus & Me. Sipped slowly, McInerney's words taste of the passionate amateur oenophile and skilled raconteur. Gulp 'em down and the finish is of the bestselling bon vivant with a blank check. --Tony Mason

Wine...by a wine lover:
This book is the most fun I've experienced, doing something that sounds instinctively wrong... reading about wine! McInerney is well-versed in the lore and diversity of the wine world and converts his knowledge and experience into an informative, entertaining and engrossing read. I should warn you the content is laden with McInerney's quirky sense of humor - it's not for everyone. For those who don't like smart, intelligent use of humor as metaphor, don't buy this book. For those who can handle wine with a twisted sense of humor, no matter how much you know or don't know about wine you will find value in this book. It is perfect for reading on a trans-atlantic flight (perhaps to France) or on a rainy afternoon at your place at the beach. In fact, you will read this book again and again, it's that magnetic.

One trick pony:
Jay McInerney was one of the voices of the 1980s, the era known for its conspicuous consumption, self-absorption and decadence. With this book, he seems intent on singing the same song years after the curtain was drawn. Ostensibly, this is a book about wines -- one of my passions -- and for the first few dozen pages it appears to be just that. There are some interesting and unusual observations about wine on the pages of Bacchus & Me, and Mr. McInerney deserves credit (hence the three stars) for breaking many of the crusty and useless conventions that limit most wine literature. But the more one reads the book, the more one realizes that the chapters are less about wine than about Mr. McInerney himself. He reveals himself as a shameless name dropper, and someone most interested in repeating a half dozen humorous and entertaining observations in a variety of contexts while boasting about his fat expense account and privileged access to bottles of wine that most of us will never even see. The problem is not that these lines are uninteresting or irrelevant -- as an occasional aside they would add to the intriguing take on one of the world's most written-about subjects. But in the frequency in which they appear here they can leave a throbbing in the head like an old bottle of jug wine does, when what we really wanted was one of those fine bottles of Bordeaux Mr. McInerney seems to be in love with.

Not your average Wine book:
I'll admit it I bought this collection of wine essays because I liked the title. Also, because there was a blurb in the dust jacket about French and German wine. I began reading the chapters in order of interest, not in the order in the book. After the first essay I was blown away with the descriptions. McInerney doesn't talk about wine like the rest of them. I thought, "this guy writes so well, this is like reading a novel." Then referring to the dust jacket again I discovered he um well has experience in that area too. Despite being fun to read, McInerney packs a lot of information into each essay. This book will not tell you everything you want to know about wine - it isn't an intro to wine collecting or a reference to keep through the ages as you collect wine. It is a collection of unique musings on the wonderful subject of wine. I loved it.

Enjoyable and Unhelpful:
Would it have been so much trouble to subject McInerney's collection of wine columns to some minor editorial work before publishing them as a book? There's much to like about the individual pieces here, but reading them sequentially becomes kind of annoying. First off, the repetition is ridiculous. Helen Turley, "the wine goddess," should pay or possibly sue McInerney for mentioning her every third paragraph, and even some jokes get recycled. More frustrating is the lack of context: as this book is squarely pitched to the uneducated wine enthusiast, a little contextualizing would go a long way to making the columns actually useful(as would the occasional sop to those of us not regularly spending over $100 a bottle). And eventually we tire of hearing about the fabulous literary/oenophile dinner parties to which Jay is constantly invited. All that said, the columns are funny and opinionated, and give a nice overview of a wide range of grapes and manufacturers. I'm sure reading one a month would be perfectly satisfying. It's just a shame the publisher was so lazy in assembling this package.

A wine guide with humorous shade:
When I heard Jay McInerney composed a non-fiction book about wine, I figured he'd finally run out of ideas for his hipster novels. (And maybe he has.) But this book proved to be more entertaining than his last few novels. As far as a wine guide, you could certainly find others that are not only more comprehensive, but a bit more detailed (his dislike of certain wines not only seemed obvious, but labored.) The up side to this book is it's entertainment value. Most wine guides are (for lack of a better word) dry. They become tedious to read which is why most of us never finish them. You will likely finish this one, and learn a few thinsg on the way. Don't expect to become a master vintner, but do expect a few laughs.