i enjoyed reflections... but i certianly don't think it's going to go down as one of the greatest wine books ever written, and i don't think it makes as much of a statement as it could have.

the book is essentially a collection of stories about people rosenthal has encountered over the years, and how their story fits - or doesn't fit - into rosenthal's importing business and view of what the wine world should be. for instance, the story of a family/producer in piedmont embodies everything he loves about wine, while a relationship with a producer in burgundy crumbles as they insist on making changes he doesn't feel are for the best. the stories are generally interesting, however i don't feel they'll appeal to those who aren't truly interested in the subject matter. (however if you've made it to this page, you probably ARE interested in the subject matter.)

i echo the sentiment that rosenthal spends a bit of time ranking on people by name. it's not really vengeful stuff as some other reviews have implied, but the problem is that it's not really done with a lot of finesse or class either. it doesn't portray the author in the best light, and makes you question his own personality to some extent. this doesn't destroy the book, but it does detract from the experience a bit.

finally, i feel the book doesn't have a ton of focus. there's not a really strong thread running through it. i know it's a collection of stories, but considering the experiences rosenthal has had over the course of the last 30 years, in addition to his very strong feelings about what wine should be, i think the book could have driven home more of a message. maybe rosenthal didn't want this to be too agenda driven, but i thought the result made it a little light.

all this said, this is worth reading, especially if you're a fan of rosenthal's views on what wines should be. come to think of it, you should probably read it if you *don't* share rosenthal's views on what wines should be.

Neal Rosenthal is the real deal, and so is Alice Feiring, whose My Battle for Wine and Love or How I Saved the World from Parkerization. Both echo themes about the authenicity and sense of place in truly great wines and rail against the tragic (for real wine lovers) imposition of industry homogeneousness and wine manipulation over the real thing.

Both these books are deep--not frivolous, as some people would like to paint Alice Feiring's book--complex and filled with nuances that everyone who really cares about great wine should know and appreciate. Neither book is jammed with appreciation for overripe fruit, residual sugar, palate numbing alcohol levels and, Thank God, neither comes in a horrid new oak binding (barrels where supposed to be aging vessels, not gross flavoring agents that override grape varieties, terroir, etc.).

My prediction is that these two books are going to have an enormous impact on young (and not so young) sommeliers, wine directors and wine buyers (especially non-retail types, who don't use Parker scores to flog wines), because they both espouse the greatness and distinctiveness of terroir-driven, authentic, artisan wines that have a sense of place. Since these are not mass market Parkerista wines, I think this philosophy will not have an immediate effect on the Parker consumer, but it will have on restaurant wine lists run by younger sommeliers, who believe it or not have been fed up with tasting Parkerista wines for quite some time. They will seek terroir-driven wines to lend distinction to their lists and push these wines as those which help set their wine lists and restaurants apart.

Restaurant goers will discover these wines and begin to look for retail stores that carry them. It will not be long before the already choppy anti-Parkerista waters build into a very big wave, which, pardon me, copycat American wine journalists will soon see as a bandwagon to jump on, at least those who still have a palate left after tasting all the overripe, sweet, over-oaked, alcoholic junk that they have been barraged with over the past decade or so. And with greening and organic movements growing stronger in response to environmental changes, more and more conscientous wine drinkers will begin to question the manipulation of wines.

Neil Rosenthal: ". . . proof that there is some seriously fine terroir to be found in California and elsewhere, terroir that merits being left to express itself rather than being dominated and destroyed by human manipulation in the form of superextraction or immersion in new oak barrels or any of dozens of other laboratory tricks that "correct" what nature gives us."

Alice Feiring: ". . . At stake is the soul of wine. This is giant corporation vs. independent winemaker. This is international and homogenous vs. local and varied. This manipulated and technical wine vs. natural and artisanal. . .wine is being reduced to the common denominator. . .I visit producers who make wines that inspire love and devotion. . . I unmask the modern way--the reverse osmosis, the tannin addition, the yeasts, the enzymes, the cold soaks, the sawdust, oak chips, the barriques, the micro- and macro-oxygenation, the rotor fermenters, and the cherry drops. There will be scientists and consultants, who help create cookie-cutter wines for the mass palate. I will deal with those who say terroir (the magic that brings soil, climate, vintage, and winemaker together in a bottle of wine) and natural winemaking are simply excuses for making bad wine."

Neal Rosenthal and Alice Feiring are hero and heroine!!! Buy both these books and take a trip through the world of real wine, you will never turn back.

And as to the reviews that claim Neal Rosenthal's book is filled with bad writing--sounds like some of you have been drinking too much of the wine that Neal disdains.

Gerry Dawes
Blog: Gerry Dawes's Spain: An Insider's Guide to Spanish Food, Wine, Culture and Travel.

I must have read a different book than the one reviewed so unfavorably here, although the title and the author are the same. "Reflections of a Wine Merchant" was exactly what I had hoped it would be when I bought the book for my husband, the winemaker in the family. He found the book opinionated but dead-on right, and he felt that it was about time that someone wrote to decry the industrialization of wine and the homogenization of taste. When we have finally lost the ability to appreciate terroir or even the opportunity to experience it, we will be all the poorer for it, and we can only hope that through the efforts of people like Rosenthal that never happens.

There are huge philosophical differences among vintners and wine merchants about what constitutes good wine; my husband and I have read quite a few books on the subject. My husband's methods are of the old school which lets the grape speak for itself and turn into whatever it will become, whereas the newer school, represented more by California, Chile, and Australia, wants a product that will be the same across batches and regardless of the provenance of the grapes, and so they use embellishments to enhance the wine in order to be able to sell it young and standardize the product. What one prefers is a personal choice but it's important to recognize that there is a difference.

Rosenthal's descriptions of his interactions with vintners, positive and negative, were fascinating and offered insights into both the sociology and the techniques of the ancient craft of winemaking. I found his writing to be adept, descriptive, and on point. My granddaughter is about to enter the sixth grade, and were she to express herself a third as well as Neal Rosenthal does here, her teachers would be amazed and ecstatic. Please don't let the previous reviewers discourage you from buying and reading this book, especially if you have an interest in understanding the possibilities and potential of wine.

I don't get the vitriol of the first three reviewers. Concerning their complaints that this book is full of Neal's opinions and rants: yes, it is. If they were looking for nothing but raw facts perhaps they should have selected a book that wasn't autobiographical. As for the quality of the writing: while Neal does tend to be a little over-the-top with his comparisons, his use of the English language is quite good albeit old-fashioned.

Personally, I really enjoyed this book. It's a quick, fun read as long as you take it for what it is: a collection of recollections and musings on wine and personal history by Neal. I found him to be relatively even-handed in his treatment of most subjects and it was refreshing to hear from someone in the world of wine who doesn't worship at the temple of numerical scores.

Perhaps this is an exercise in piling on, but it must be said... this book is a tremendous disappointment. Mr. Rosenthal vents his spleen on a variety of topics and people, with little in the way of real insight to offer. The prose is sometimes comically stilted and reads like bad legal writing. Often a single sentence rambles on for a good part of a page, bearing the weight three or four sentences should carry.

His heart is in the right place: wines with character and sense of place, made for keeping. But between the small minded jabs at a pantheon of enemies, the rotten writing and the sheer superficiality of it all... No. Don't bother. Instant bargain bin material.

Neil Rosenthal should be ashamed of himself. First of all, his command of the English language is at or near a 6th grade level - no wonder he could not make it as a lawyer. His goal in writing this book was simple: "Everybody pay attention to me!"

Neil wants to be a critic. Not an importer. He should stick to what he knows.

If his mother was, "Ugly, with horselike features and legs as thick as a country table" would he like it if that were how she was memorialized? Probably not.

Spend the $[...]-- on a bottle of his wine not this awful book. Neil, you really have no class. Shame on you.

If there was ever any doubt about the matter we now know that the skill set needed to discover wines of real character and the one that results in great prose are entirely distinct. Though I was looking forward to this book, from the outset I was sorely disappointed. The author spends much of the first several chapters settling scores with individuals who have disappointed him in the past. Before we join him on his first solo visit to the vineyards of Europe he already sounds embittered. Once we join him on his rounds, we do meet some lovely people for whom Rosenthal has genuine affection--and who seem inordinately cursed by personal tragedy. While the dust jacket promises that 'we will learn how they unveil the subtleties of their individual terroirs,' I don't believe we do. I was expecting something on the exalted level of 'Adventures on the Wine Route,' but this isn't it.