The Hour

by Bernard DeVoto

A Pulitzer Prize winning historian tells you why straight whiskey and the dry martini are the only true cocktails, and the great American invention.

Genres: Nonfiction, Food, Food and Drink, Cocktails, Cookbooks, Essays, Humor

Hardcover

First published January 1, 1948

About the author

Bernard Augustine DeVoto was an American historian and author who specialized in the history of the American West.

Reviews

[Kimley · Rating 4 out of 5]

There's no doubt that Mr. DeVoto would consider me an olive-chomping barbarian, a fruity-cocktail-sipping heathen. I'm everything he despises - a woman who loves a good fruity cocktail especially if it has an umbrella or better yet a clear plastic monkey hanging on the edge of the glass by its long skinny tail! But he and I do agree on one thing which is that there is nothing better than getting together with some friends at the violet hour and having a few cocktails. And if someone is going to look down upon me and my fruity ways, I'd prefer it to at least be someone with the deliciously condescending wit and cleverness of Mr. DeVoto.

In DeVoto's world there are only two legitimate cocktails - a slug of whiskey and a properly-made martini. And that martini better NOT include olives or shudder onions - cocktails are beverages, not food!

"And I suppose nothing can be done with people who put olives in martinis, presumably because in some desolate childhood hour someone refused them a dill pickle..."

DeVoto has no end of rules about his cocktails and this book is called a manifesto for a reason. With chapter titles like "For the Wayward and Beguiled" and "The Enemy", you can be sure there's an agenda here. I suspect he'd become apoplectic by today's dirty martini. And an appletini would surely do him in.

The book, originally released in 1948, is a bit dated at times but in that kitschy way that Mad Men is dated but thoroughly enjoyable despite or maybe because of its politically incorrect pronouncements and bad behavior. There's a romance here for a certain way of life that we all know never really existed as anything other than facade but what a fine romance my friends this is.

"For instance, there is a widespread notion that women cannot make martinis, just as some islanders believe that they cast an evil spell on the tribal fishnets. This is a vagrant item of male egotism: the art of the martini is not a sex-linked character."

Damn straight! I make a kick-ass martini! Think I'll go make one now - and put three olives in it!

[Christy Stewart · Rating 1 out of 5]

Let's concentrate on the chapter entitled 'The Enemy,' shall we?

Mr. DeVoto, I couldn't agree with you more. The real problem isn't alcohol, it is this country's preocupation with sweets. Why, I can't count how many times I've been wandering the streets at the middle of the night, smashed on cupcakes, and raped and beat some random guy.

Now that that's out of the way, indulge me my silly feminist ideas, if you will.

I don't appreciate his comment that the reader should go into the kitchen and see what his wife's books are; that being cookbooks. He rants that there are too many cookbooks in press and that women waste their efforts on them. Ruining good alchohol with fancy concoctions. He urgers not only that women learn to make a correct cocktail but also serve her husband and his guests well and "...for God's sake, develop a little skill and then do the job unostentatiously." He warns the reader, "By the way, never accept a divorced woman's invitation to cocktails until you have looked into her divorce; it may very well have resulted from something that began 'take a cupful of gin and four tablespoonfuls of grenadine.'"

But what is worse to Mr. DeVoto is that single women buy these books as well! "Some of them may be attractive, all are at least well-meaning, and a moment of unwariness or even simple good manners may land any of us at a party that one of them has worked up from a cookbook." He goes on to say, "She," she being one of these single woman you may get tricked into spending time with, "is a bright girl, though, and when a man takes her to a bar she suppresses her impulses and orders what he does or else says 'Scotch on the rocks.' (The only innate fault in women drinkers is that they think too highly of Scotch."

And the cherry on top is that DeVoto refers to women as bitches and wentches.

Fuck you, everyone who gave this book a good review

[Ben · Rating 4 out of 5]

Pompous, pretentious, and hilarious. It’s great fun reading how a man in the 1950s felt was the proper way to drink at happy hour.

DeVoto thinks rum is an abomination, mixers are a disgrace, and pretty much the only acceptable drinks are whiskey straight or on ice, and the classic martini. (Without an olive. Never with vodka.)

His rants against improper drinking are funny and, at times, he’s even insightful about the reasons why humans enjoy a good drink.




*I found this book at community library/BookCrossing, and it contained the inscription in the jacket:

“November 26th 2011

Sharon,

A little extra—may we share many a cocktail together. This book was originally published in the 1950s and has recently been reissued.

With love,
Sophie xx”

[Sam · Rating 4 out of 5]

Sexist, obnoxious, and incredibly arrogant. The Cocktail Manifesto spews such blasphemes as calling Rum the worst blemish in American history and that the Manhattan is a sin against piety.
Still, even with hyperbolic and absurd rantings, DeVoto manages some particularly beautiful insights and descriptions of how and when to enjoy a cocktail.

It's certainly worth a read for the sake of itself.

[Jeremy W]

DeVoto's dogmatism about his incredibly narrow drink opinions would be easier to swallow if not accompanied by so, so much regressive and condescending misogyny. Having just finished reading this, I am worried that before I can get rid of it someone will come over and see it, and think that I support anything he says.

[Brandon · Rating 5 out of 5]

A few weeks ago I was fortunate enough to be caught outside on a warm spring evening by my neighbor, Dan, while I was pulling weeds. I had been gardening all day and was tired and dirty but throughly enjoying the day. He suggested Susan and I come over and have a cocktail with him and the invitation struck me perfectly. We rounded up our other neighbor, Barbara, and the four of us sat on Dan's front porch for the rest of the night watching the sun set through the trees, talking politics, listening to the birds, etc. We had the pleasure of enjoying each others company and relaxing over the bonding effects of a few drinks. No TV, no radio, no board games. Just friends relaxing. When the topic of alcohol came up, Dan brought out an old, out of print copy of The Hour. It was written exactly about the same "hour" we were enjoying and the cultural significance of both cocktails and the cocktail hour. After reading us a quick passage that summed up our evening I was convinced I had probably stumbled upon a rare treasure. I borrowed the book and couldn't have been more correct. The writing is beautiful and on the mark. Anyone who has ever enjoyed a drink and looked for the words to express their gratitude need look no further. This is not a celebration of drunkenness by any means. It is a celebration of our American heritage and our need to unwind and enjoy the fruits of our labor. It's a celebration of our humanity and the spiritual significance alcohol has in bringing us together. This is by far one of the best books I have read in years and I highly recommend it to anyone who had ever enjoyed a drink with friends.

[Cristhian · Rating 2 out of 5]

Si este libro hubiese salido en esta época no sería un libro si no un hilo en tuiter de un tipo dando su opinión que nadie pidió sobre un asunto del cuál no podría estar más equivocado.

Solo no tiene 1 estrella porque el foreword está muy bueno.

[Nikolas Xenophon · Rating 5 out of 5]

I was absolutely taken by The Hour; DeVoto's writing is incredibly passionate. There is the essence of curmudgeon throughout the book, but the sarcasm is immediately evident, and makes it that much more hilarious. I would trust that he wasn't ready to start our granddaddy's war over a person making a cocktail other than the two he specified, but even if he was, his views are outlined so strongly that you have to give him credit for them! The detail he offers, with such illustrious nuance and vision, is a style of writing that many of us should undertake in our own offerings.

I did just that, in creating my blog -- The Congenial Hour, on the Tumblr blog platform. Taking a note from Mr. DeVoto, I make a post every weekday during the 6:00pm hour, either CST or EST, depending where I am. My first post states why I post in this manner, as DeVoto mandated, "At 6:00, we must have action." DeVoto speaks of the hour of 6:00pm, the threshold between work hours and personal hours, when things start slowing down and we're in reflection about the days' events; this was the perfect time to publish my blog posts. The blog illuminates connections of drinking culture, as they intersect areas of architecture, music, ancient Greek history, spirituality, careers/industry, fashion, among other areas of culture. I hope that you will join me, daily, as we toast to The Congenial Hour: the hour for cocktails....the hour that should be not just happy, but congenial....when all the elements of drinking culture are manifested -- diverse peoples exchange stories, numerous topics of culture are discussed, and the "glory of the discourse" is set forth....see you there!

[Zach · Rating 5 out of 5]

“The surest proof of the moral condition of the universe is that you can always find good whiskey if you go looking for it.” So declares Bernard DeVoto in The Hour, and I think that sentence serves as the real thesis of his manifesto. While he rails against rum and the various cocktails that were just becoming popular at the time of the book’s writing (he particularly dislikes soda as a mixer), the big point he’s making isn’t about a proper drink, but about the proper way to enjoy one. It’s called “The Hour” and not “The Cocktail” for a reason. Drinking for DeVoto is a social act and a personal one, and the ability to appreciate liquor in its purest forms is a sign of high morality. The purity of the spirits reflects purity of spirit. When all the one-liners and rants are put to the side, the core of The Hour is a human one. It’s a story about why, since even before recorded history, we’ve sought ourselves at the bottom of a glass (or a bottle or a cup or a flagon). And it’s DeVoto’s simple wish that we be able to do so smartly.

This is a highly enjoyable book (made even more so by Daniel Hander’s introduction), and all fans of the drinking life should welcome this reprinting.

[Tosh · Rating 4 out of 5]

Reading this book you can actually smell Manhattan circ. 1953. Bernard DeVoto was a Historian, who wrote the ultimate love object (the book of course) to the serious art of drinking, and drinking well. The man has a strong hatred for the drink "Manhattan" as well as Rum. In fact he hates all sweet cocktails with a passion. And if you think you should add that olive to the martini, forget it. Cocktail is not a food, its a drink.

The great thing about the book is the packaging - all the original illustrations are here, and it makes you think that there was a better time once, a time where you can control your world. "The Hour" is such a time when you have the perfect (unsweet) cocktail in a location that serves your aesthetic and well-being.

[TinHouseBooks · Rating 5 out of 5]

"The Hour is not simply a piece of humorous cultural patriotism either. It is a manual of witchcraft, a book of spells and observances."
—Wallace Stegner, author of Angle of Repose

"In an age when all that was old seems new again, Bernard DeVoto's The Hour couldn't have made a more timely reappearance. This book reminds me of one of the joys of being an adult—cocktail hour!"—Graydon Carter

"If in the well and truly made martini DeVoto finds "water of life" and the blessing to the spirit, so also DeVoto's The Hour brings to its readers the breath of life and a vision of themselves made generous, indomitable and wise."
—Lewis Lapham

[Patricia · Rating 5 out of 5]

A meditation and appreciation--no, truly, it IS a manifesto, occasionally verging on a rant--on the pure, philosophical beauty of the 6 o'clock hour and its appropriate libations. The latter number only two: whiskey (optionally with ice and/or water) and the properly made martini (gin and very dry vermouth only, never sullied with anything sweet or salty). Wonderfully written with an eloquent wit seldom found nowadays (this book was originally published in 1948). A hilarious gem of philosophy and fine living.

[Jeff · Rating 3 out of 5]

The Hour of, of course, is the cocktail hour. Perhaps this would have been a better read had I a few drinks first, since, no doubt, it was written under the influence of a few.

You get the feeling when reading this that the author might have eventually reread this while sober and scratched his head wondering what exactly he had meant to say. Sort of like getting up in the middle of the night and writing something down only to wake up the next morning wondering what it meant.

Nevertheless it was an enjoyable read.

[Jon · Rating 4 out of 5]

Curmudgeonly. Opinionated. Old school, when that school did not admit women, Jews, blacks, foreigners, the poor, or the handicapped, and gay was what you were after an hour of Beefeater and vermouth at 3.7 to 1. If your social sensibilities will allow it, this is enjoyable tongue in cheek or as a privileged period piece. Otherwise, put it on the back shelf with Evelyn Waugh and Rudyard Kipling, next to The Great Gatsby .

[Brian · Rating 5 out of 5]

Fantastic book, if you have a sense of humor about it. Obviously, DeVoto takes shots at all sorts of targets, and you can argue whether he hits the mark or not. But to me, I was laughing all the way through. Funniest book I've read in a while. Just don't take it too seriously, and you'll be fine. Except for his recommendations on how to make a proper martini. That's serious as a heart attack.

[Edward · Rating 5 out of 5]

You will never again look at a Martini or think of rum the same way. Wonderfully entertaining.

[Marci · Rating 5 out of 5]

Rec'ed by a friend who has a consistent eye for what I will enjoy:, this was a delight.

[Steven Lanasky · Rating 4 out of 5]

Funny, odd, verbose and rambling, a fun read of the art of the cocktail and the virtues of simplicity.

[Graychin · Rating 4 out of 5]

Bernard DeVoto’s The Hour: A Cocktail Manifesto (1948) begins like this:

“We are a pious people but a proud one too, aware of a noble lineage and a great inheritance. Let us candidly admit that there are shameful blemishes on the American past, of which by far the worst is rum.”

On the other hand, if the American experiment had produced nothing more than bourbon and rye, DeVoto says, we would have done the world a princely service. For whiskey has ennobling virtues:

“Look, for instance, at the Irish, for many centuries a breed of half-naked cave dwellers sunk in ignorance and sin and somewhat given to contentiousness. Then gentle, learned St. Patrick appeared among them. He taught them to make usquebaugh and at once they became the most cultured people in the world. No one challenged their supremacy, certainly the Scotch didn’t, till inspiration crossed the Atlantic and set up a still in Pennsylvania.”

Here in Oregon the state holds a monopoly on the sale of liquor. If you want to buy a fifth of Wild Turkey, you must visit one of the few and far-between liquor stores licensed by the bureaucrats in Salem. These shops are privately operated but all the liquor they contain is state property – until, of course, it’s paid for or liberated at gunpoint by a citizen-philosopher.

It’s an old-school system, a relic (maybe) of prohibition sensibilities, which our neighboring states have already discarded. Across the river, in Washington State, you can buy your liquor at the grocery store.

Anyway, it recently came out in the local press that several high-ranking members of the Oregon state liquor control board have for years been using the privileges of office to hoard the good stuff for themselves. And by the good stuff I mean the expensive stuff, bourbons like Pappy Van Winkle that most of us are less likely to see this side of Paradise than to glimpse Sasquatch dancing in the ferny woods.

The bastards.

Not that yours truly would ever shell out the simoleons needed to secure some Pappy Van Winkle. Happily, there is consolation enough for me in the occasional bottle of Russell’s Reserve bourbon or Michter’s straight rye. But the affair nicely illustrates the dangers of generalization. It’s a fine thing to affirm, like DeVoto, that American whiskey is a pure and civilizing spirit, but we see that even pure and civilizing spirits may tempt some into corruption and brigandage.

[Jc · Rating 4 out of 5]

An amusing, tongue-in-cheek collection of DeVoto’s essays, written between 1948-1951, on the subject of drinking in America. Pulitzer Prize winner DeVoto has been described as an “author, literary critic, and historian.” He certainly did NOT receive his Pulitzer for this work, but that is part of what makes The Hour fun. He definitely wrote most of the columns included here with a either a “slug of whiskey” (likely Rye or Irish) at his side, or maybe a garnish-free Martini (preferably 3.7 to 1!).

Warning: Wallace Stegner described Devoto as "flawed, brilliant, provocative, outrageous, ... often wrong, often spectacularly right, always stimulating, sometimes infuriating.” I cannot disagree with any of Stegner’s characterizations—especially the “flawed… outrageous” part—so take the criticisms seriously. DeVoto’s comedy has both an in-your-face bluntness and a snobby (!) mid-20th century white-male (!) “sophisticate” attitude. This combination can make him difficult to read in the 21st century. However, I [and Daniel Handler, author of the introduction to this edition] insist that if you can get past that, and are someone who enjoys their own "Hour,” then this humorous, magical paean to drinking is well worth the read. So, grab your favorite libation (but nothing sweet, fruity, or flowery), and enjoy (after re-reading this warning first).

[Rebecca Wilkins · Rating 3 out of 5]

A short little book about drinking by Bernard DeVoto written in 1948. His was the generation who venerated the cocktail hour. It was not the get drunk at all costs that modern drinkers seem to do but a end of the day 6 p.m. relief that he claims "let six o'clock never find you alone." It is a social hour and limited to 2-3 drinks at most with friends and then dinner. It is for conversation and unwinding. My in-laws were of that generation from the 30's and 40's when the cocktail hour was popular and they always observed it and the conversation was pleasant although the drinks could be strong. They always considered themselves "social drinkers." DeVoto considers the only drink worthwhile to be a martini made with gin and splash of vermouth. My in-laws did martinis but with olives and gin and tonic was a favored summer drink. My generation just never got into the cocktail hour. I came from a basically non-drinking family so had no tradition to follow. The new generation has gone to huge water bottles and a cell phone. Not exactly a social hour!

[Kurt · Rating 3 out of 5]

This book has an entertaining style and should be read more as humor book than as a bartending guide. Readers should be aware it was written in 1948 and is a product of the time - when it's assumed all people are heterosexual, single women are looking for a husband and should be attractive to the men in the group if they are to be invited, etc.

Some of the illustrations are charming - the cover illustration is one of my favorites. Others again reflect the times - in a way that can now be off-putting.

I enjoyed the book - but keep in mind it was written 70 years ago.

[Daniel Benevides · Rating 3 out of 5]

Se considerar apenas o estilo, este pequeno livro merece 5 estrelas. Que frases magníficas! O problema é o excesso de conservadorismo, paternalismo e patriotismo (no caso, norte-americano). Para o autor, só vale a pena tomar bourbon ou rye, com gelo ou puro, ou martini, com gim dos EUA. Ele execra com veemência engraçada manhattans e qualquer coisa com rum. Mulheres são vistas como belos acessórios e qualquer influência estrangeira merece a forca. Ainda assim, tem momentos impagáveis, de humor e inteligência finos.

[Stephanie · Rating 1 out of 5]

Aside from one absolutely excellent quote — "nothing can be done with people who put olives in martinis, presumably because in some desolate childhood hour someone refused them a dill pickle and so they go through life lusting for the taste of brine" — this book is So. Of. It's. Times that it should not be read by anyone who isn't a historian studying the opinions of a pompous white man about mid-century drinking.

Now excuse me while I go put another olive in my martini.

[Marlon Austin]

a somewhat amusing rant against sweet cocktails which claims the only acceptable drinks are american whiskey and a martini✋ i wish i could make the author a piña colada

[Jacob Neisewander · Rating 5 out of 5]

“The day was not bad, the season has not been bad, there is sense and even promise in going on.”

Martinis. Whiskey. No botulism (rum).

[Mark · Rating 4 out of 5]

Bernard DeVoto's The Hour is a clarion call for adults to have a quiet hour of conversation with friends or loved ones over a good cocktail. His votive hour is right before dinner; in my household it is the hour before bedtime. I guess DeVoto would classify it more as a nightcap, but the same principle is at work. It is a time to talk and unwind, a time to be civilized as the troubles of the day recede away. DeVoto spends much of his time railing against "alien" liquors such as Scotch whiskey or the overly sweet cocktails that were coming into vogue in the early 1950's. But these are secondary concerns to the eroding away of a preordained time to relax and talk with the special people in your life over a good adult beverage. In many ways this book made me think of Robert D. Putnam's Bowling Alone: The Collapse and Revival of American Community whose sociological research showed since the mid 1960's Americans are becoming more and more isolated from each other. So gentle reader, turn off the television or the high speed internet, invite a friend over to your abode, and make her or him a good drink of any variety.

[Steve · Rating 3 out of 5]

Kind of disappointing. Popular historian DeVoto (Twain, edited Lewis and Clark journals down to 1 volume, Year of Decision) gives us a short volume here on the Cocktail Hour. Cranky and opinionated, and the writing is oddly archaic, even for 1951 when it was originally published. Humorous at times, and a nice record of times past (when bars watered down their liquor!). You can buzz through this in a couple of sittings (small pages, large type, lots of white space on the page, quotes and illustrations taking up whole pages) and on that I'd recommend it is worth your time. A sometimes charming period piece. Of course I love his "there are only 2 drinks - bourbon and a martini" (and No, Cosmos and chocotinis do not fit into the latter category) and his hatred of drinkers of rum!

[Donna · Rating 4 out of 5]

After reading, “Always, Julia: The Letters of Julia Child and Avis DeVoto”, Bernard DaVoto, Avis’s husband became as familiar to me as Julia and Avis was. His books and work were mentioned so often I was intrigued. This book was not in my library’s system and had to be requested. It came from Washington, the other side of the country! I’m in NJ. This impressed me, why I don’t know.

This was a fun book…I knew it would be. I even loved the book’s jacket. It is a short rhapsody to the cocktail….and he was the quite the purist. He has strong hilarious opinions on what is “correct” too. No mention of my beloved vodka. I wonder why. Anyway…this is a very entertaining little book!

A favorite quote, “And, I suppose, nothing can be done with people who put olives in martinis, presumably because in some desolate childhood hour someone refused them a dill pickle…”

[Bill · Rating 5 out of 5]

(Actually 4.5 stars, but rounding up. Also, I read the 1951 edition, but Goodreads doesn't seem to have an entry for it.)

This is a series of four essays by the noted historian about cocktails and the cocktail hour. For DeVoto, the Martini and whiskey (bourbon and rye) are the pinnacle of American achievement, and the Martini and whiskey slug are the only two cocktails. (He'll allow you to make an Old Fashioned for a demanding guest, but no Manhattans; and don't get him started on rum.)

It's very much a product of its time, and I don't agree with any of his assertions (I happen to enjoy Manhattans and Scotch), but the writing is so amusing that I can't help but love the book. I'm pretty sure I could find a great quote on just about every page. It's a slim volume that shouldn't take more than an hour or two to read. A must-have for readers of good food writing.