Date: December, 2012
Whisky: Aberlour 16 y.o., ?
It was bound to happen. The best laid plans of mice and men, and all that. I’m writing this in January of 2016 as I do a sweep-up of event gatherings that never got recorded for posterity; a good three years removed from this one. To date I am the only one who has attended every Liquorature gathering. However…that iron man streak has an asterisk beside it.
An hour or two before heading out to Chris’s place for this meeting of the minds my wife came down with something nasty. I mean really nasty. Out of commission nasty. Guess who had to pull the plug on his evening of intellectual dick-measuring and liver-drowning? Yep. This guy. So be it. The problem was that I had agreed to be driver for the eve. The ‘stay sober and put up with the drunken idiots’ guy. It’s kinda tough to back out on that sort of commitment, so I made the rounds, picking up the lads, and drove ’em all down to Chris’s place. I stuck it out for about 20 mins of quick chat before having to hit the highway for home.
So…yes I attended. I shared a few bits of opinion, heard a couple others, and sprinted for the door before I found myself relegated to the couch for the night. Obviously I can’t share a lot of details about this event. I can, however, weigh in on the merits – or lack thereof – of Wolfe’s ‘Back To Blood’. Let’s just wrap this one up with a resounding ‘meh’. 700 pages should result in a much more epic tale than this. And when your protagonist is a musclebound, primping wank…well…it’s hard to root for the guy. I’ve heard ‘Bonfire Of The Vanities’ is supposed to be great, but I can honestly say I’m not keen on self-immolation, so could happily live out the rest of my days without reading another turn of phrase by Mr. Beatnik-cum-hippie Journist. In short…this book fucking sucked.
Onwards and upwards…