100 Books Like Alcohol

A sensual cultural history mixed with economic history, specifically the rise of capitalism, Schivelbusch launches an interesting argument—that one particular substance, or taste, has often defined the zeitgeist of whole nations for definitive periods. This book is wide-ranging and general in its treatment of alcohol, as well as several other drinks and spices. There are excellent imaginative connections made, and the book invites thinkers to think deeply and broadly about the meaning of intoxicants in history and in their own lives.

Mintz’s book is about sugar, but it is still a key work in the history of coffee. It served as one of the major inspirations for my own study of the reception of coffee in early modern Britain. Sugar was a key ingredient in coffee by the later seventeenth century and would become a staple in the hot drinks consumed by the English working class. Mintz shows us how this symbiotic relationship between sugar and coffee developed, and he places the construction of an Atlantic slave system and the industrial revolution at the heart of his story. This is a classic work of both anthropology and history; it inspired a whole new way of thinking about the Atlantic world and the history of consumption at a time when both of those fields were still newborn. 

Rorabaugh argues convincingly that alcohol of several types—but mostly rum and whisky—were part and parcel of, and at times even drove, early national American culture. Solo and group binges increased from 1790 to 1820 as the population tried to adapt to anxious and uncertain changes in their lives. Drinking became aligned with liberty—taverns were the “seedbeds of the revolution” and the “nurseries of freedom.” And although boozing came to be an early element in what was defined as the American character, the temperance movement was not far off.

Quick, name a beverage that has not been derived from or flavored by a plant? Not surprisingly, only water and milk leap to mind. Bestselling author Stewart delves into the natural history and cultivation of scores of plant species with witty and authoritative accounts of how they have been used in coffee, tea, all manner of spirits, wine, and beer. Cocktail recipes are included throughout as well as invaluable cultural context. I loved the bit about sorghum-based baijiu which figured in Nixon’s famous China trip. – “Alexander Haig had sampled the beverage during an advance visit and cabled…’Under no repeat no circumstances should the President actually drink from his glass in response to the banquet toasts.’” 

Nixon drank it anyway. Impressive since Dan Rather said it tasted “like liquid razor blades.” 

I worked with Erin on a deeply personal essay when she was an editor at Ravishly and was so excited when her memoir was published. Though we used different drugs and came from different backgrounds, our stories were similar, as are most addicts. We use to get rid of the pain, the shame, the anxiety/depression, whatever ails us. We find reprieve through our addictions, but find a loving life in recovery. 

The fictional account of Kailee’s progression from risky promiscuity into recovery from abuse denial arrested me as Author Martin did not hold back in details. Kailee is successful and independent but her need to control men sexually to feel safe, while medicating herself with alcohol, prevents her from real intimacy. While books like Fifty Shade of Grey glorify sexuality and dominance, Fuchsia Parade unveils the truth behind an unquenchable sexuality, and a woman’s path to recovery. Any woman who is a survivor who aims to understand her sexual agenda will relate to Kailee’s redemption.

Mancall’s background as an economic historian of the Atlantic world provides an interesting take on early interactions between European colonists and Native Americans in the early New World colonies. As an anthropologist, I am always pleased to see historians, especially economic historians, integrate ethnographic evidence and anthropological literature into their research.

In this book, Mancall explores the way rum and other alcoholic beverages connected Native peoples in North America to broader Atlantic markets. Moreover, Mancall highlights the way rum connected the plight of enslaved peoples in the Caribbean to the plight of Native peoples in colonial North America.

Revealing a relationship between alcohol, violent crime and rebellion, this book pioneered historical studies of alcohol.

I love the way Taylor uses alcohol as a lens through which to think about the past. Examining the social meanings of alcohol, he demonstrates how the beverages one drank helped to determine their identity. Indigenous consumers who turned to alcohol to temporarily escape their plight and privations also played upon colonial Spaniards’ assumptions about their penchant for alcoholism to subvert colonial rule.

Among the first to study governments’ contradictory goals of controlling inebriation and profiting from the alcohol economy, Taylor reveals the complex roles that alcohol played in colonial Mexico. His approach and insight inspired and informed my pursuit of the influence of alcohol in Guatemalan history. 

I love all of Lynda Barry’s comics, but It’s So Magic! is my favorite collection.

Barry’s adolescent heroines steal wine from parents and from synagogues; they drink the cheap stuff like Boones Farm Apple Wine, and concoctions of mixed hard liquor made from whatever they can find in their houses that give the reader a hangover just thinking about it.

Barry’s graphic narratives also include stories of sexual abuse that are visually overlaid with gross-out drinking humor that will make some laugh and others turn away. Through visual humor, she brings into view both drinking girls and knowledge about sexual assault often hidden from view.

Barry’s alternative lessons remain radical in this politically fraught time when neo-temperance advocates attempt to tie #MeToo to abstinence, once again trying to enforce the idea that girls and women are to blame if they drink too much alcohol.

If there were a single riposte to the cliché that men inherently know more about booze than women, then Girly Drinks by Mallory O’Meara would be it.

Mallory is neither a drinks journalist nor a professional bartender, but she is an unstoppable force on a mission to set the record straight about women and booze. Going deep into women’s history while simultaneously reflecting on her own experiences with alcohol, she takes us on a whistle-stop tour across the ages and around the world.

Her style is witty, assertive, and just the right side of combative. I couldn’t help but fist bump the air in solidarity as she dispels myth after myth about the so-called girly drink.