A thought-provoking and fascinating foray into the world of alcohol explores its historical and social impact on American life and describes its many uses as a symbol of democracy, social status, and control. 20,000 first printing. "It is not generally appreciated how extreme American attitudes about alcohol appear from the other side of the Atlantic." With an opening line such as that, it's not surprising that Drink: A Social History of America engages in its share of Yankee-bashing. British journalist Andrew Barr 's look at American culture through a glass (somewhat blearily) is an attempt "to understand the history of the United States through its attitudes to liquor and its changing tastes in drink." In reality, however, Barr lurches and staggers from topic to topic--from prohibition to martinis to ice to air conditioning to bland American beer in one 10-page sample--in this swirling cocktail party of a book. That's not to say that Barr's book isn't enjoyable--in fact, it's often delightful. Barr serves up amusing stories (such as that of poor King Charles II of Navarre, immolated in an alcohol-soaked sheet), interesting factoids (the first grapevines in California were planted at the San Juan Capistrano mission in 1779), and strong opinions. Some of his opinions are funny, some are bound to raise hackles (that alcoholism is not a disease, but a "failure of personality," for example), while others are somewhat sensible but destined to be unpopular. Barr feels that Americans have an unhealthy relationship with alcohol, so we should teach young people (and those who drink to excess) to drink sensibly, worry less about pregnant women having the occasional drink and more about prenatal care, and switch the focus from stricter drunk-driving laws to laws aimed at reducing dangers such as cell-phone use and road rage. Just when things get too serious, however, Barr is off again in another direction with another witty snippet. Unfortunately, like many partygoers, Barr tends to repeat himself--frequent footnotes direct the reader to "See Chapter 4," "See Chapter 4 again," or even "See Chapter 4 once more." Perfect for browsing or ingesting in small doses, too much Drink in one sitting may leave readers with a headache. --C.B. Delaney Barr employs the fields of history, cultural anthropology, pharmacology, religion, economics, nutrition, law, technology, and psychology in his consideration of alcohol consumption in the United States. A Sunday Times writer in London, Barr (Wine Snobbery: An Expos?, S. & S., 1992. o.p.) brings a unique perspective and biting satirical commentary to his work. His approach is thematic rather than narrative, with chapters on conflicting attitudes toward drink and drugs, the Americanization of European drinking habits, the utter failure of governmental authorities to control alcohol traffic effectively, and the many vogues of social drinking from the 19th-century workingman's saloon to today's yuppie clubs. Barr discounts the notion that alcoholism is a disease. He chides Alcoholics Anonymous for its outmoded precepts of uplift and teetotalism and criticizes Mothers Against Drunk Drivers for pursuing the bogus issues of a minimum driving age and a ridiculously low blood alcohol content standard. While the book is thought-provoking and impressively researched, Barr's polemical digressions are too numerous and too long, his proffered solutions to America's problems unconvincing or downright "over the top," and his lack of an overarching historical narrative makes for an uneven and laborious read. Recommended for larger public and academic libraries.AJohn Carver Edwards, Univ. of Georgia Libs., Athens Copyright 1999 Reed Business Information, Inc. An exploration of American drinking habits through time from a British scholar of booze. Barr (Wine Snobbery, 1992), a journalist for the London Sunday Times, offers a social history of drink in America, one organized by theme rather than by strict chronology. Throughout, one suspects that Barr never met a drink he didn't like (at least, that is, as a subject of inquiry), and he defends alcohol as ``a means of sharing, of cementing friendship, of defining status, of establishing loyalty, of entering adulthood, of declaring freedom.'' Of sclerotic livers and broken homes he has little to say, preferring instead to puzzle over Americans' puritanical attitudes toward such things as a lunchtime mug or two of brewa good source of nutrition, he insistsand our insistence on keeping minors away from the Ripple. Supporters of MADD won't much like Barr's sensible yet controversial discussion of the flaws of lowering the acceptable blood-alcohol content of drivers, which, he says, will lead only to the creation of a whole new class of lawbreakers and thereby assure that ``drink-driving laws will lose credibility''; they will also frown on Barr's view that a little alcohol every now and then is a good stress-reliever for pregnant women. But collector