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    <user id="152399">
    <name><![CDATA[Andrew]]></name>
    <location><![CDATA[The United States]]></location>        
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  <id type="integer">3644830</id>
  <isbn>0747599785</isbn>
  <isbn13>9780747599784</isbn13>
  <ratings_count type="integer">20</ratings_count>
  <text_reviews_count type="integer">10</text_reviews_count>
  <title>Everyday Drinking</title>
  <average_rating></average_rating>
  <link>http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/3644830.Everyday_Drinking</link>
<author>
  <id type="integer">13078</id>
  <name>Kingsley Amis</name>
  <ratings_count type="integer">3112</ratings_count>
  <text_reviews_count type="integer">475</text_reviews_count>
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    <rating>3</rating>
  <votes>2</votes>
  <spoiler_flag>false</spoiler_flag>
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  <recommended_for><![CDATA[alcoholics, high-functioning alcoholics, drunks, alcophiliacs, the curious]]></recommended_for>
  <recommended_by><![CDATA[]]></recommended_by>
  <read_at></read_at>
  <date_added>Mon Aug 04 20:19:06 -0700 2008</date_added>
  <date_updated>Tue Aug 12 13:04:47 -0700 2008</date_updated>
  <read_count></read_count>
    <body><![CDATA[This cute recollection of Kingsley Amis' newspaper columns on the life of a professional drunk is edited by Christopher Hitchens (friend of son Martin and resident avatar of English alcoholism in American letters). The writing is gin-saturated -- themes recurring in their wet wit seem half-remembered; the prose seems dictated, with the loose, conversational imprecision of a  drunk and self-satisfied autodidact. But what else would you want, let alone expect, from a collection of brief High English epistles on the art of staying drunk, often on ridiculous cocktails, for half a century? <br/><br/>One humorous theme is Amis' blithe and recurring dismissal of wine as a legitimate category for the professional &quot;drink man&quot; -- a great phrase that we teetotalers from the leeward side of the Atlantic ought to appropriate. Wine for Amis is a kind of French shell game played on the English, who are better off, in Amis' reckoning, staying true to their &quot;real Ale&quot; and London gin. <br/><br/>Throughout, Amis plays the faux cabala of wine appreciation off the purer secrets of the booze aficionado, but his own understanding and taste are warily suspect: after months of columns disparaging the new lager culture ruining English pubs and praising the virtues of &quot;real Ale&quot;, Amis settles into effusive praise for cans of Carlsberg. There are also eccentricities of taste one might blame generally on England rather than poor Kingsley: gin, he lies, is at its best served warm with water; ketchup is the key to a perfect Bloody Mary; sangria is made with wine and soda. <br/><br/>Perhaps the most pleasant aspect of the book is Kingsley's shameless embrace of drunkenness. Now five long decades past the three martini lunch, it is a helpful tonic to our woeful American obsession with sobriety and the self-immolating fires of hyper-productivity to remember that once Knights of the British Crown drank from morning to night and still managed to keep their Empire on the rails.]]></body>
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