Everyday Drinking:
The Kingsley Amis Guide to a Life Fulfilled
It finally happened. After years of painful literary wandering I have at last come across a book that truly changes lives. Not quite as sprawling as Ulysses, far less risqué than Lolita, yet still better written than Gravity’s Rainbow — this particular number outdoes all in one lovely aspect: use. If you too ever found yourself wondering what to answer when an attractive Italian and aspiring bureaucrat asks: “What, if anything, is the point to art?”, then this is what you’ve always wanted: Everyday Drinking, by the venerable Kingsley Amis.
Forget Oscar Wilde’s “it is Art, and Art only that reveals us to ourselves”, just as you can Théophile Gautier of “art for art’s sake” fame (amongst other things), or even the obvious realization that art is the only worthwhile way we have of describing emotion, because here’s a much more tangible point: it can help you with the drink (and not the other way around, as some would have it).
A few of you may know Amis Sr. from Lucky Jim — easily the funniest novel of the past 61 years — and his other satirical masterpiece Girl, 20, as well as perhaps The Alteration, described by Philip K. Dick (yes, the Philip K. Dick) as “one of the best — possibly the best — alternate world novels in existence”. Yet this brings him to a whole new level. While still delivering plenty of laughs, the curmudgeon is no longer concerned with relieving us of our worldly pains with comedy, or intellectual discovery. Rather, he wants us to know how to achieve perfection in the form of an effective yet pleasurable alcoholic refreshment. As this reviewer puts it, in a better manner than I ever could: “You’ve read Lucky Jim, now try drinking it”.
A collection of three books written between 1971 an 1984, Everyday Drinking offers thoroughly researched information on a variety of topics, from the ‘metaphysical hangover’ and timeless ‘how not to get drunk’, to the ‘Mean Sod’s Guide’: teachings on the art of cheating guests into cheap and cheerful meals, no doubt a favorite of young couples everywhere.
Nonetheless, Kingsley Amis is at his best when allowing glimpses into his extraordinary knowledge of drinks themselves. Rare are the secrets of liquor (and liqueur) not elucidated by our most graceful erudite, and for our sake (no not the drink) the whole spectrum of cheap and expensive alcohol is expended upon. It will come as no surprise, I expect, that the former was found to be the more rewarding. Indeed, as is the case for most students and professional debutantes of my age, I’ve come to realize that enjoying willful poisoning’s higher pleasures — without the prohibitive prices of specialized bars — is nearly impossible (and I would know).
On that point the author gracefully provides us with a wealth of advice and combinations, associating the obvious (always go for cheaper base alcohol when mixing, etc.), to clever expansions on the likes of punch, sangria, mulled wine, and cocktails. With perhaps some exception to ‘his’ dry martini, my favorite there is undoubtedly his — this time absolutely so — Singapore Sling. While the original Singapore Sling is made with around eight to eleven ingredients, including such costly exoticisms as Bénédictine and Cointreau, our good man manages to bring this down to just three: 2 parts gin, 1 part cherry brandy, and 2 parts fruit juice. The last ingredient is crucial, and provided you get it right the result should be both excellent and, to put it mildly, fulfilling. Varied experimentation on the matter has led me to confirm that the best combination splits it in 2, with equal parts fresh lemon (or lime) and orange juice. If your stance is firmly against fruitiness, you may substitute cheap ‘normal’ brandy, or even pisco, for the cherry without much degrading the whole thing. Some go as far as calling it an upgrade, but I’m still undecided on the matter.
In any case, as decent enough (i.e. drinking them neat isn’t recommended) gin and cherry brandy are priced at $15–20 a bottle, the whole affair definitely verges on the affordable. Do be careful, however, since even stirred in ice (as it should be) the cocktail is still more than twice as strong as wine — if properly mixed — and infinitely more delicious.
A Note For Teetotalitarians
If any of you have gotten up to this paragraph gasping steadily in silent horror, or even shaking your head and humming disapprovingly, consider the following. Modern life, for all its glory, can be said to host a great many sources of anxiety. Chief among them, as Kingsley puts it, is the “sudden confrontation with complete or comparative strangers in circumstances requiring a show of relaxation or amiability”. In that regard, I challenge anyone to find a better and more efficient method of “dissolving barriers” or “breaking the ice”than the slight tipsiness accompanying an imbiber when him and his surroundings cease to be totally sober. There simply is none.
It should also be noted, like Christopher Hitchens has, that alcohol does make “other people, and indeed life itself, a good deal less boring”. A thing worth remembering, especially if, as Kierkegaard is to be believed, there is no greater source of unhappiness than boredom. What slight risks could be more rewarding than those of drinking, then?
— Simon Mercer (@Tiddlebits)
