Book #56 Raw Spirit: In Search of the Perfect Dram

Raw Spirit by Iain Banks
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

My brother picked this up in a charity shop and thought I would enjoy it, knowing my love of single malt Scotch whiskies. It was originally published in 2003 and remarkably the content remains fairly contemporary. A poignant read in many respects; Iain Banks died in 2013 aged just 59. So, to talk about having enough single malt after this trip around the distilleries of Scotland, to last him into his 70s lent a subliminal tone to the content of this book.

I did enjoy it. I love single malt, I love Scotland. I would love to embark on the same journey that Banks took, sometimes alone, sometimes with his wife, often with close friends. He drives around in a number of vehicles he owns (or should I say owned), including a BMW M5, a Landrover Defender and a classic Jaguar MK ll. His quest is for the perfect dram and his conclusion(s) include some of my favourites, 12 years later. So not a great deal has changed in the world of single malt. He journeys to remote shores and hidden glens, discovering the breathtaking and often inaccessible distilleries where tiny quantities of malt whisky are produced.

Banks was a left-wing fanatic, a hell-raiser, an atheist, a confessed petrol-head - and a great writer. At times his irreverence echoes loudly through these pages. He does it to 'Dubya' and Blair (this was written at the time of the Iraq war and the search for those WMDs), pours scorn on Faslane and the nuclear deterrent, admits to being 'stoned' and inebriated on many occasions and buys shed-loads of whisky as he continues his journey through Scotland and the Isles. The book is not just a drinking guide but a travelogue and a social commentary on the early 21st century. In places it is highly amusing, at times it made me laugh out loud, but moreover it provided me with an education about the creating of the greatest spirit on earth.

That's it. I love single malt whiskies and I enjoyed sharing Banks' journey. It made me want to get on a train or a plane and head for the Highlands. And, perhaps, never come back....

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