Books have a powerful sway over me. For one thing I generally believe and am influenced by the well-written good ones, so you may say that they exercise some control over my mind. Secondly, I also compulsively purchase used books. I have to have more books. You could say that my economics are in part textually oriented. (the good thing here is that I rarely buy new books, the covers are too colorful and you spent as much on a paperback as what you might spend on a nice used hardback in perfect condition). A lot of the words I use, whether writing or speaking, are in my mind because of books. My moods are even influenced by the atmospheres created by the texts I continually immerse myself in. There is one more area in my day to day life that books have inexorably gained control over, and after I describe it to you you may conclude that books dictate my life.

Earlier this week I was at Trader Joes with the intent of stocking up on some wine. I love wine. Very few sensory pleasures are as good or better than the joy garnered by drinking a cool glass of full-bodied moderately dry chardonnay, or by consuming a richly spicy merlot, tempranillo, or cabernet tempranillo. While I was at the store my eyes fell on something else besides the wine I was after: Vintage Ale. Now I wouldn’t describe myself as a beer man. I can drink beer, but I don’t like it very much. However I HAD to purchase the Ale, buying it was completely inescapable. And books are completely to blame. You see, there are certain drinks that are textually pervasive in the sort of works I frequent most often, and the image and idea of these drinks that I have read about, but never consumed, demands more scrutiny. Here is a list of literary drinks that I will inevitably have to try at some time:

Sack (prominent in Shakespeare’s Henriad, Falstaff drinks it by the gallon). Sack is a dry Spanish white wine, and I have even seen high level academic papers devoted to it and its prominence in Falstaff’s life. Sack is a wine that I must have at some time, and judging by its description I will probably like it.

Claret (found in lots of English works ranging from CS Lewis to TS Eliot to Dorothy Sayers, I’m sure Lord Peter loved Claret). Claret is the chiefly British name used for red wine from the Bordeaux region of France, which means it shouldn’t be that hard to come by, though it may be a little pricey. My impression of Claret is that it is spicy and is sometimes served warm—in my mind I envision myself loving Claret, but the fact is that it might be a bit too dry for me to really drink a lot of it.

Ale (had) (prominent in all medieval themed works). Ale is a rich and frothy beer that is actually aged like wine. The Ale that I just had was dark and sweet, remiscent of licorice. Ale is the drink of yeomanry and has lots of backwoods Robin Hoodesque appeal, but the truth is that I didn’t like it that much. Remember I don’t like beer. However, I had to check this one off the list, it couldn’t be helped.

Absinthe (Evelyn Waugh and Ernest Hemingway are two authors responsible for perhaps the majority of textual alcoholic content, and since I’m not really in to Hemingway, Waugh is responsible for Absinthe references). Absinthe is actually illegal in the United States, as it is a hallucinogenic. I have already had a chance to try Absinthe, which I passed by, perhaps out of fear. A friend of mine actually has some and I know that eventually I will have to try some, if only a drop or two. Wikipedia has a fascinating explanation of Absinthe (and yes this reference is true): “Alcohol makes up the majority of the drink and is extremely high, between 45 percent and 85 percent, though there is no historical evidence that any commercial vintage absinthe was higher than 74 percent…Traditionally absinthe is poured into a glass over which a specially designed, slotted spoon is placed. A sugar cube is then deposited in the bowl of the spoon. Ice cold water is poured or dripped over the sugar until the drink is diluted 3:1 to 5:1. During this process, the components that are not soluble in water come out of solution and cloud the drink; that milky opalescence is called the “louche” (Fr. “opaque” or “shady”). A modern, more dramatic and potentially very hazardous “fire” ritual was invented by a Czech manufacturer, in which the sugar cube is drenched in absinthe then set on fire. Water is then added to drown the fire and dissolve the caramelized sugar. Generally less water is added than the traditional method.” Finally, Wikipedia calls into question the hallucinogenic qualities of Absinthe: “The effects of absinthe have been described by artists as mind opening, and even hallucinogenic and by prohibitionists as turning good people mad and desolate. Both are exaggerations.” I suppose that makes me feel a little better…

Port (Port is distinctively allied with sea literature, such as the Horatio Hornblower novels). Port is a “sweet, fortified wine from the Douro Valley in the northern part of Portugal. Port wine is typically thicker, richer, sweeter, and possesses a higher alcohol content than most other wines.” Based on this description I am not sure that I would really like Port all that much, I don’t typically go in for sweet drinks—I can’t stand Rum, and I imagine that Port is a wine with similarities to Rum.

Sherry (Dorothy Sayers or Charles Williams, perhaps Kipling, are responsible, also Shakespeare hails Sherry in King Henry IV). Upon some further research I have found that Sherry and Sack are the exact same thing, with Sack being an earlier name for Sherry. I suppose that narrows the list by one.

Rum (had) (a distinctively sea drink remiscent of pirates, “10 men on a dead man’s chest, yo ho ho and a bottle of rum…” think Robert Louis Stevenson). I have had rum and I don’t like it. It is too heady and sweet. The Germans put it in candy and sometimes even drench Italian Ice with it, and it was in Germany that I was first exposed to it. I am tempted to psychoanalyze the pirate temperament as result with their fascination with this drink, but that will be saved for a future post.

Well, I’ve certainly gone on for a while. This list is by all means not definitive (yet), and no doubt I will update it as I remember more classic literary drinks that I have to try. Perhaps I’ve passed over some obvious ones and you want to remind me of them—go for it, and while you’re at it let me know what your experience is with the drinks mentioned above.