Overview
Hugh Johnson, the preeminent wine writer of our time, now brings to his fans around the world his first major new book in a decade: this stylish, intimate, and delightfully opinionated autobiographical tour through the world of wine. A Life Uncorked weaves Johnson's wide-ranging ruminations, memories, and observations on his remarkable life together with information on every aspect of wine—from its technical production to its cultural significance.
In luminous, utterly engaging prose, he taps into his enormous experience to consider topics such as tasting, cellaring, choosing, understanding, comparing, and buying wine, as well as wine's more ephemeral and personal pleasures, lures, and mysteries.
At the heart of A Life Uncorked is the idea that wine is more than a drink; its characteristics link it directly to memory, to locations around the world where grapes are grown and wine is made, and to the dining rooms, restaurants, bars, and gardens where we consume it. Johnson takes us to all of these places and many more in this delightful and revelatory memoir. Peppered with anecdotes throughout, A Life Uncorked simultaneously educates and entertains with its absorbing perspective on the complex and fascinating world of wine from one of its most well-known and well-liked aficionados.
Synopsis
"Vintage Johnson—lively, graceful, and satisfying. An engaging read."—Gerald Asher, author of The Pleasures of Wine and Vineyard Tales
The New York Times - Adam Platt
Wine writing tends to be either chalk dry or perversely florid, but Johnson manages to cultivate a literate, self-deprecating style. He apologizes in advance for a particularly baroque description of a red Burgundy from Château Figeac ("This is a long attempt, but you can always turn the page"), and, in a fit of cheery, un-Parker-like self-doubt, admits that a cliché or two may have found their way into his book. He's right, but it doesn't really matter. Hugh Johnson has done enough scholarly heavy lifting during the course of his career to indulge in as many jolly stories as he wants.
Editorials
Adam Platt
Wine writing tends to be either chalk dry or perversely florid, but Johnson manages to cultivate a literate, self-deprecating style. He apologizes in advance for a particularly baroque description of a red Burgundy from Château Figeac ("This is a long attempt, but you can always turn the page"), and, in a fit of cheery, un-Parker-like self-doubt, admits that a cliché or two may have found their way into his book. He's right, but it doesn't really matter. Hugh Johnson has done enough scholarly heavy lifting during the course of his career to indulge in as many jolly stories as he wants.— The New York Times