As I say, I was lighted up. In my brain every thought was at home. Every thought, in its little cell, crouched ready-dressed at the door, like prisoners at midnight, waiting a jail-break. And every thought was a vision, bright-imaged, sharp-cut, unmistakable. My brain was illuminated by the clear, white light of alcohol. John Barleycorn was on a truth-telling rampage. . . . And I was his spokesman.
—Jack London, John Barleycorn (1913)
Humankind has been turning to booze to help summon up creative inspiration since before the days of Bacchus. The history of alcohol, and its use by writers, artists, and musicians to stimulate the imagination and elicit the elusive muse, is well documented. Temperance zealots over the years may have decried the evils of drink, but there are considerable examples in the canon of literature to suggest, at the very least, a connection between alcohol and great writing.
In the case of some writers, the eventual toll booze exacted on mind and body was significant, and access to the muse short-lived. Jack London, Malcolm Lowry, Ernest Hemingway, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Edna St. Vincent Millay, and Jack Kerouac all soared to great heights under the influence, only to crash and burn. Other writers—James Joyce, Herman Melville, Maya Angelou—managed to reap the creative benefits of alcohol’s mind-loosening properties without succumbing to its ravages.
A 2012 study reported in the journal Consciousness and Cognition (conducted by Andrew F. Jarosz, Gregory J. H. Colflesh, and Jennifer Wiley, at the University of Illinois at Chicago) supports the notion that thinking “outside the box”—a necessary precondition for creativity—can be aided by a few drinks. In “Uncorking the Muse: Alcohol Intoxication Facilitates Creative Problem Solving,” the authors share their finding that sober subjects took longer to solve creative word problems than their tipsy counterparts.
In addition to alcohol’s creative benefits, we would argue that there is no greater pleasure than a good book, paired with a good drink! Certain writers, and certain bottles of alcohol, now fetch eye-popping sums on the auction block. Recently, ten bottles of 1945 Château Mouton Rothschild Bordeaux sold for $343,000, while an inscribed 1925 first edition of Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby sold for $162,500. Proof positive that we like our booze, and we like our authors who like their booze.
Perhaps unsurprisingly, the idea for this book, a history of spirits and great literature accompanied by copious visual tomfoolery, was conceived in a dimly lit bar following a tough week at the studio—and the consumption of several rejuvenating sidecars. Two years and many cocktails later, the Muse of Booze has blessed us with this book. Cheers!
—Monte Beauchamp and Greg Clarke, October 2018