It's Boxing Day*. You've got a platter full of cold turkey sandwiches, a hangover that would scare a pig and a stack of vouchers to spend. You like beer. You like beer books. If you're rabidbarfly you like beer books with big pictures in that you can point to and grunt.

So, if you're sat on your sofa in just your pants, turkey in your navel, muttering to yourself "I wonder if there's a handy and impartial internet guide to buying the kind of books that I wished I'd asked for so I would have ended up with better presents than novelty socks and some out-of-date Toblerone?" then

a) you really need clinical help, but

b) here's a round-up of some books wot people wrote about beer this year. Ish.


IPA: brewing techniques, recipes and the evolution of India Pale Ale - Mitch Steele

Let's cut to the chase: buy this book. If you haven't any vouchers, sell other stuff so you can buy this book. Diligently-researched history, fascinatingly-detailed recipes, insightful prose, clearly illustrated. Destined to be the cornerstone reference work on IPA.

Beer, food and flavour - Schuyler Schultz

A classic example of how to make one not-great book out of four potentially good ones. There's very little about flavour; what there is hints at the importance of sensory elements but seems to lose itself before it's started. Forty pages of fine dining menus and recipes start to get rather repetitive. The beer and cheese chapter is OK - although I don't need eleven pages of cheese photos, I know what it looks like. But then a third of the book is no more than a guide of US breweries along with regular features about Alesmith. An opportunity lost.

Shakespeare's Local - Pete Brown

I visited the subject of Pete's book - the George Inn in Southwark - a couple of weeks ago. It was difficult to conjure up an imagine of how this galleried pub would have hustled and bustled over the last six centuries. Mainly because I was looking out over a courtyard of skinny hipsters drinking pinot grigio. But this book does the trick. Pete has a canny knack for engaging narrative and so the tales and tribulations of the George seep from the pages. It's not a straight-up historical tome; put it this way, if you don't think references to the Sugababes and Trigger from Only Fools And Horses are suitable for a beer book, take your vouchers elsewhere. And maybe buy a sense of humour.

Let me tell you about beer - Melissa Cole

Yes, I know it was published last year but it's still the most cogent and entertaining book about beer on the market. One that I buy for others. And read myself. Just for fun. Like you should.

Beer & Philosophy - ed. Steven Hales

Yes, I know it was published in 2007. But I only found it this year. A collection of fifteen papers by a brewer or two and a fair few philosophy professors. Oh, and a Canadian attorney. I sat under the leaf-dappled sun by the walls of Nottingham Castle reading this during this year's CAMRA beer festival. After reading Peter Machamer's piece on beer evaluation, vocabulary and context I put the book back in my bag, drained my glass and did nothing but think about what I'd just read for a good twenty minutes. Particularly about the last line, in relation to offering others your evaluation of beer:

"We all like to play Pygmalion. We just have to learn when to stop".




Thanks to the Brewers Association and Skyhorse Publishing for review copies of the first two books. Thanks to Derbyshire Libraries for running a sterling reserve-and-collect service and for stocking brand new books like Shakespeare's Local in the face of egregious cost-cutting.


* this may or not be the case. Like beer itself, this blog is context-dependent

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I really enjoy writing book reviews. I've been writing them for ages, both personally and professionally, and I never tire of the challenge. To be laudatory without sucking up. To be castigating without resorting to personal attacks ( "Did the author present the first draft in phlegm-speckled green crayon?" has always, to date, been edited out of my offerings).

The truth is: reader, I love reading and talking about what I've read. Ever since the day I pulled Suzy Watkins' pigtails until she promised to read 'Charlie And The Chocolate Factory" because I'd decided it was The Bestest Book In The World. Nowadays my nagging consists usually of a blogged taut summary, a few witty observations and a quote that's ideally phrased (but rarely used) for inclusion on the back cover of the paperback version.

Today, it's simply this: 'Let Me Tell You About Beer' is the best book about beer since Michael Jackson's 'Great Beer Guide'. And then some.

Melissa Cole is so passionate about beers that I've drank a hundred times already that I want to drink them again - the piece on Kelham Island Pale Rider has already been photocopied and pinned to my noticeboard as the finest beer review I've ever encountered. Her informal and engaging style sets this book apart from all other contemporaries. She puts a spin on the hackneyed 'theory + style' approach that is genuinely engaging. And it's so beautifully put together; great artwork, not the usual stock photos, plenty of warp and weft to it.

It's beery perfection. As an introduction to the wide, wild world of beer. And as a reminder to those who know enough to be dangerous... this is what honest-to-goodness beer writing is all about.

I'll finish by saying these three things about the book.

"...I want to give you clear, easily understandable descriptions of beers that reference familiar smells, flavours and sensations. Not because I think you're a bit simple, but because I feel my job is to tell you more about beer using markers you already understand". Best. Introduction. Ever.

The "If you like this.. try this" section that converts wine styles over to beer styles is that slap-the-forehead moment where you can't believe someone hasn't already written one with such aplomb.

It's subtitled "A beginner's guide to all things brewed". Ignore that. This deserves a place on every beer lover's shelf, casual or geeky. You may know little or think you know it all. I guarantee you, Melissa Cole will make you think different.



Let Me Tell You About Beer is published by Anova Books. Many thanks to them for the review copy. >

For some, arrogance is a sin. For Stone Brewing Company, it's a badge of honour and a business plan.

In 'The Craft Of Stone Brewing', Greg Koch and Steve Wagner serve up a book of three and a half halves. The ever-obligatory "what is beer" section is handled with typical Stone panache and offers some genuinely useful info on differing malts, hops and water salts. A potted history of how the brewery came to be is genuinely interesting, with the lowdown on the trials and tribulations of Arrogant Bastard's difficult birth and how their passion for 'signature' beers led them to similar heights at their World Bistro.

There's a rundown of Stone's regular, special and collaboration beers although it doesn't approach the detail given on their excellent website. And for the DIY enthusiasts, there are recipes for both homebrew versions for a range of Stone beers alongside some of the popular Bistro dishes, paired with and cooked with the beers themselves.

It has that indelible Greg Koch footprint all over it - arrogance and passion - yet allows a step back for others to fill in the shadows or offer a differing viewpoint. As a primer on all that is Stone Brewing, the book is educational. As an illustration of how forward-thinking the brewery is - particularly in comparison to the pale imitators we've seen mouthing off in the UK - it's invaluable.

The Craft Of Stone Brewing is published by Ten Speed Press. Many thanks to them for the review copy.

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There's a moment in most drinkers' lives where they come over all introspective and glassy-eyed. Often after their eighth pint. But sometimes it's when they think about what makes the perfect pub. Thoughts turn to an Orwellian Moon Under Water: defining the essence of that ideal watering hole. I've certainly tried to pin such thoughts down on occasion.

Paul Moody and Robin Turner have gone several steps further. And then some. Having already visited some of the nation's most idiosyncratic boozers in their book "The Rough Pub Guide", they've been on the hunt for not only what makes the perfect pub but also why places have been marginalised and monetised, how "one of our most loved institutions have become so unloved and undervalued".

Their journey takes them from Edinburgh's side streets to islands off the Devonian coast, sharing a drink with the likes of Wetherspoon supremo Tim Martin and Manics frontman James Dean Bradfield along the way. It's a book of two halves and one theme; beginning with conversations about the state of the British pub with the sector's great and good (Bridgid Simmonds, Greg Mulholland, Pete Brown) before concentrating more on time at the bar in places such as Cardiff's Vulcan, Lundy Island's Marisco Tavern and The Butchers Arms in Herne.

Like all good pub-based arguments, Moody and Turner's is passionate, rambling, repeating, sometimes over-laboured, sometimes opaque but always engaging. I like a book that I can shout at, both in agreement and decrial, particularly as I read most of it in the pub and like it when people stare back at me like I'm about to go off on one.

Do they find the perfect pub? I'll leave you to find out. It's a very entertaining journey with plenty of input from the kinds of characters I'd love to spend a pint or three with. And I highly recommend you buy a copy. It's the ideal book to make you think as you drink in that pub that you love on a wet afternoon in winter.


The Search For The Perfect Pub is published by Orion. Many thanks to them for the review copy.

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Burton: beer town. It's difficult to over-estimate just how important a role the town has played in the history of English brewing. The story of Burton is the story of pale ale, of industrial complex, of international trade, domestic economy and the changing face of brewing through the centuries. It's one hell of a story to tell. And that's what Roger Protz sets out to do in his latest book.

From brewing at the Benedictine abbey, through to the Baltic and India export eras and the economic politics of British brewery mergers, Protz guides a familiar course past the recognised markers of Burton's beery history. The rise of Bass and Worthington are handled with aplomb, likewise the indelible effect that the town had on the growth of pale ale and the seemingly-hard-to-pin-down style of Burton ale itself.

After a first read-through, though, I found myself wanting to know more. More about the town and how being riven by brewing shaped Burton's development. More about the characters and the coopers. There are plenty of good-quality plates with excellent photographic reproductions, but the book cries out for at least one map to put the scale of the enterprise into perspective (something that "Brewery Railways of Burton on Trent" managed to do so well some fifteen years ago).

Maybe the problem is that Burton's history is so intertwined with that of English brewing that it's difficult to tell the tale without constant reference to the bigger picture. The problem then is that whole chapters seem tangential to the town. The Babington Plot makes for good history, but the fact that a Burton brewer was involved makes it feel more like filler than thriller in this context. And some content sits uneasily; towards the end of the book there's a number of chapters that are re-writes of articles that the author has already published on his website. I was hoping for a reflective ending that brought together the town's rich and diverse history. Instead, the book ebbs away.

I have a feeling that there's two great books yet to be written about Burton and beer; one which captures the complexity of the economic history hinted at by Gourvish & Wilson, another that emphasises the importance of personality as well as water chemistry to the rise and fall of Burton's brewing. The Story of Brewing in Burton On Trent hints at a few panels in the town's rich tapestry; it will be future work that revels in the overall splendour and/or reveal the fine detail.


The Story of Brewing In Burton On Trent is published by The History Press. Many thanks to them for the review copy.


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It's too easy to get dewy-eyed about beer. The breathless romanticism of the world's best long drink. Lest we forget - beer is a business. Whether it's the artisan in a converted barn or the multinational that can shape policy and culture, beer is a commodity. The result of an industrial process that is produced to be sold for profit.

The economic context of beer is often lacking in contemporary discussion. Maybe a new book by Oxford University Press will rekindle debate and inform opinion. The Economics of Beer stems from papers presented at the first Beeronomics conference at Leuven in 2009, addressing a shortfall compared to the study of wine economics. A wide range of academics have contributed eighteen articles, ranging from trade history through industrial organisation to analysis of newly emergent beer markets.

As with many academic works, the tone of each article is individualistic. John Nye provides a cogent history of how war and taxes helped shape the direction of the British brewing industry in the nineteenth century. The 'emerging markets' chapters are easy-reading but insightful, particularly from a quality versus quantity perspective. Some articles make for heavy going, though, for the non-academic; the growth of TV and the decline of local beer in the US is certainly interesting once you can get your head around the empirical evidence section. The chapter on beer consumption in a recession, however, tested by fairly-robust statistical knowledge to breaking point.

Which is maybe the issue with academic works such as this. Is it a work only destined for the university library shelf? I'd say not. There's plenty here to appeal to many beer enthusiasts from both a historical and contemporary perspective, plus detailed pieces on the esoterica that deserves formal academic analysis. The Economics of Beer deserves to be a staple addition to the bookshelf of anyone with a love and interest as to what makes beer sell.

Judge for yourself. The opening chapter, 'A Brief Economic History Of Beer', can be downloaded as a PDF. If you want to find out more, the book can be bought from Amazon.

The Economics Of Beer is published in hardback by the Oxford University Press. Many thanks to them for the review copy.

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I don't usually review homebrew books. Because, uh, I'm not a homebrewer, never have homebrewed and have no inkling to do so. But there was something about The Brewer's Apprentice that beckoned to me.

The cover, for a start. Bold, contemporary, eye-catching. With Stone Brewing's Greg Koch's name on the cover, there's a fair bet that the text will be feisty. And by the time I'd finished the introduction, I was won over. Why?

Imagine books are people. Most homebrew books are the slightly fusty, check-shirted dork who's just over your shoulder, the one who's memorised all the tables and temps. This book is a lounge full of truly expert brewers, chewing the fat and sharing a beer, happy to chat about whatever's on your mind.

It's a devilishly simple but effective approach. The eighteen chapters start with the basics - mashing, hopping, water chemistry - before moving onto styles - English ales, lambics, wheat - and ending up with what may be called advanced or even adventurous topics such as barrel ageing and hop growing. There's essential technical information, put across in a clear and cogent fashion. Hop blends, water salt profiles, yeast tolerance... this book makes such things look good even to the casual reader.

But what makes it for me are the interviews that accompany each chapter. Greg Koch has talked to the best in the business and the results are both insightful and entertaining. Want to know about hop bittering? Vinnie Cilurzo, inventor of the double IPA, tells all. Ever wondered why yeast strains are vital to English ale character? John Keeling of Fuller's explains why it's akin to riding a horse. Is lambic brewing mystery or mastery? All is revealed by the man from Cantillon who says he's not a brewer, Jean van Roy.

This is a book that delivers on its introductory promises. Perfect to have on the coffee table, to dip in and out of. Effortless in covering the "technical, diverse and spectacular". And here's the rub; the interviews are so engaging that it makes me want to read the detailed stuff. The detailed stuff is so clearly presented that I actually get it. And because I actually get it now...

... I think I want to brew beer.

If that's the case, Greg Koch and Matt Allyn will have a great deal to answer for in the future.

The Brewer's Apprentice by Greg Koch and Matt Allyn is published by Quarry Books. Thanks to Quarto for the review copy.

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I do love a good academic paper. Something structured, peer-reviewed, clearly referenced, heaps of jumping-off points into tangential arguments. Most of those that I (struggle to) read with respect to beer involve hop chemistry; I'm fascinated by how that humble herbaceous plant plays a role in brewing that still isn't even close to being understood fully.

History, anthropology, sociology is more my bag. I don't get to see as much beer-based research papers in these areas - so many journals, so little budget - so when I was offered the chance to review a cross-disciplinary collection of perspectives on global beer, I jumped at it.

The International Commission on the Anthropology of Food and Nutrition held a conference in 2001 which took a cross-cultural approach to examining beer, although it's taken another ten years for some of the papers presented to be compiled and published. The result - Liquid Bread - is a slimmish book that taps into a variety of academic disciplines to provide insight into some genuinely interesting subject areas.

Beginning with an attempt to answer the question as to why animals even bother to ingest ethanol, the short chapters move through a diverse topic list including German beer culture, fraternity binge drinking, sorghum beer in Burkina Faso and beer consumption in the Philippines.

Some of the chapters are truly excellent - Brewlab's Keith Thomas provides probably the best overview of the brewing process that I've read. I found the African insights particularly interesting, particularly those concerning Northern Cameroon and Burkina Faso. A few contributions don't gel quite as well - the piece on New Zealand's 'rugby, racing and beer' culture feels dated and the translations of some papers aren't exactly pulse-quickening. But there's plenty for an armchair academic to get their teeth into, take on board a basic concept concisely made and then go Google for more info.

Although I don't expect many of you to do so. The twenty chapters and 250-ish pages don't come cheap; Amazon list it at £55. Perhaps aimed more at a university bookshelf than an inquisitive reader, which is a real shame as there's something in there for most beer lovers to discover, learn from and shout at. Exampling the latter, in a chapter about the UK - "the two major categories of beer... are dark beer (ale) and 'lager'...". Or how about "... cask beers... i.e. beers which ferment in the usually wooden casks". Feeling groggy? Here's the suckerpunch: "Real ales are unique to the British Isles". Martyn Cornell, if you're reading this, breathe deeply. And in..And out. And in...

It's a combination of academia that works well, but at a hefty price for the layman. If the individual chapters were on sale as PDFs I imagine some of them would sell by the server-load. But at this price, I can't recommend it as a casual read.

Liquid Bread: Beer and Brewing in Cross-Cultural Perspective is edited by Wulf Schiefenhövel and Helen Macbeth. It's published by Berghahn Books; thanks to them for the review copy.


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There are many impossible jobs. Managing Nottingham Forest. Jeremy Clarkson's charm tutor. Cat-herding. To that list, let's add the editorship of beer guides.

Garret Oliver, brewmaster of Brooklyn Brewery, says he was minded to "politely refuse" the offer of being editor-in-chief of The Oxford Companion to Beer. With the book weighing in just shy of four pounds in weight,  there's over a thousand contributions by over a hundred writers. Is that potential burden too great for even Garret's immaculately be-suited shoulders?

Time for an admission. I haven't read every word of the book. Because it's not that kind of book. It's a dip-in-and-weave-around. Always wanted to know chapter and verse on 4-vinyl guaicol? You got it. Curious about the use of sorghum in African brewing? Sorted. If I wanted to read about hops for a week - and, yes, I get weeks like that on occasion - I could happily skip between the finer points of science as presented by the likes of Charlie Bamforth and Matt Brynildson. The page on the characteristics of essential hop oils is the kind of concise eye-opener that I daydream about.

It's when you get into the realms of history that this rich tapestry of beer reveals several dropped stitches. The perpetuation of hoary old porter, stout and scotch ale myths is bad enough. But why the contributors didn't reference books by the likes of Martyn Cornell and Ron Pattinson, both of whom have researched the styles, I can't be sure. Actually, why Cornell and Pattinson didn't get to write these style entries themselves is just as much of a mystery.

There's frustration. The cross-referencing doesn't always, er, reference: 'beer engine' links to 'swan neck' but not vice versa. Some entries seem illogical - why write about Hogarth's classic print 'Beer Street' but not show it? Copyright?

So, by turns, the book is lovable, engaging, annoying, frustrating.

It's the black labrador of the beer book world.

It gets on your nerves by repeating old mistakes. It stinks on occasion and lets itself and its owner down when it shits on the vicarage lawn. But it looks at you with big brown eyes and you forgive it. Because day it, day out, it gets it right more often than in gets it wrong. It's a slightly slobbery but still engaging companion.

The simple fact is this: someone had to contribute, someone had to edit, someone had to publish a work of this scope and scale. Somebody had to start the project that others will refine, amend, append and improve. Garrett Oliver and the Oxford University Press can't please all the beery people all the time. But at least they've made the impossible job a little easier the next time around.


Thanks to the Oxford University Press for the review copy >

Summer holidays when I was a lad meant the long haul down to Devon in the back of a Ford Escort. Annoying my sister kept be busy until Birmingham (and toast at Frankley services). The I-Spy Book Of The Motorway occupied me down the M5 to junction 31. And then it was time for a game of pub sign cricket. Spot a pub sign, score runs for every leg mentioned. The Cock Inn? Two runs. The Fox? Four runs. No legs? No runs. Arms or legs instead? You're out.

And that's where my interest in pub names first started. Nowadays, when I'm sat outside having a pint, I'm prone to wandering why there's a ubiquity of Royal Oak's, who was Sir John Borlase Warren or what a Bucket of Blood has to do with beer. There's now a book newly out in paperback that answers some of those questions.

Only some, mind you; that's because 'Green Men & White Swans' has a focus on folklore names. Author Jacqueline Simpson is a longstanding member of the Folklore Society and finds the "most fascinating" names to be those drawn directly from British lore. The result is an A-Z of over four hundred pub names with succinct and insightful explanations of their origins.Whether its the commonplace (Red Lion) or the unique (Flitch of Bacon) Simpson delves into legend, ballad and song to illuminate the sometimes not-so-obvious background.

Clear typeset is interspersed with etchings related to the subjects rather than illustrations of the signs themselves, giving greater clarity to the prose. Several mini-essays flesh out the story of particular themes, such as "Puzzling Pairs". The index includes placenames too so you can find unusual examples within a particular location.

It proves to be a great book to dip in and out of, especially at the pub. I now know more about Royal Oak Day and may suggest the celebration to the landlord of my local. Two pubs I'd previously visited  - The Case Is Altered and The Quiet Woman - are included and have descriptions that fit in perfectly with my earlier research. As for the Bucket of Blood - well, I get the feeling that the decapitation of a revenueman in a Cornish smuggler's inn may be a tale that just keeps getting taller.

It's one of those books that never fails to amuse and amaze. What's more, not only do I now know how the Seven Sisters pub got its name, but I know where I can score fourteen runs if I ever get to play pub sign cricket down south.


Green Men & White Swans is published by Arrow and can be bought from Amazon.co.uk


If the style of the cover illustration seems beery familiar, it's because it's by the illustrator Chris Wormell who produced the 'Beer From The Coast' series for Adnams.

And if you really want to lose yourself in the history of pub signs, you can download 'History Of Signboards', the 1907 revision by Larwood and Hotten, from archive.org.


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Despite the over-burdened bookshop shelves that argue the contrary, London hasn't deserved a great guide to its pubs and bars. Compared to other capitals it seemed to have lost its beery way; lots of grand old boozers and a few smart joints but no sense of cohesion, no sense of scene, almost a lack of pride. Larger brewers and pubcos had the lockdown - or so it seemed.

But the last few years has seen a radical change. Entrepreneurs and chains alike have realised that drinkers value great places to drink beer. And brewers - including that once-endangered species, London brewers -  have realised that those drinkers are demanding great beer. With old pubs revitalised, new bars trailblazing and London brewers springing up under railway arches and in pub yards, the time has arrived for a guide that can combine traditional information with contemporary styling.

And as if by magic, here it is. Des de Moor had the unenviable task of visiting over 250 of the capital's finest beery establishments to compile The CAMRA Guide to London's Best Beer Pubs & Bars.Why unenviable? Well, that's a lot of pubs to cover. It's not as if he could stop in each one for a serious session.  I caught up with him over a swift drink at Gunmakers to have a chat about the Guide and how London is in the throes of a beer revolution.

As he sets out in the book's introduction, the capital had become "the new city of beer". Once-dead-end pubs have been turned into thriving craft beer outlets. Major chains such as Nicholson's and Wetherspoons have brought great ale to some of London's most historic pubs. An ever-increasing number of microbrewers are carving their niche into neighbourhoods that are receptive to small batch, high-quality beers. High rents and low economic certainty are still a challenge to publicans and brewers but there's a real sense that London is beyond the tipping point. A new breed are finding their way; the genie is out of the bottle and the hops can't be stopped.

Road-testing the Guide started at Gunmakers and continued over the next three days at a wide range of places, from the beer geekery of the Rake via the very different brewery taps of Kernel and Brodies to the grandeur of the City. The layout is fantastically clear and concise, getting across essential info such as postcode and phone number whilst still finding space for Twiiter and Facebook details. The place descriptions worked well, just the right mix of history and detail, with the 'insider tip' adding a dash of colour to the write-ups. Nearby Tube stations are noted too but as Des pointed out to me it's quicker to walk between many of them.

The area maps are clear but perhaps too much so - they don't work too well in helping a newbie navigate between pubs (no road names) and there's no indication of what an adjacent map area is. I found myself using Google Maps and the postcodes from the Guide to help me get around.

My real bugbear with a printed Guide is that it's out-of-date even before it's printed. At least Des has met the update challenge; his site has a PDF of additions and corrections that he aims to produce quarterly. That greatly improves the longevity of the book and is an approach that I feel CAMRA ought to adopt to their other guides.

The introductory essays about London as a beer city are informative and an easy read, not the often-dreary filler that other guides rehash. With a handy background to the capital's breweries and a genuinely useful appendix that lists places to drink by themes such as landmarks or transport terminals, the Guide packs in plenty of useful ancillary information.

With London's stock in the international beer world on the up, this is an indispensable guide to the capital's best beer venues.

The CAMRA Guide to London's Best Beer Pubs & Bars can be bought from Amazon. CAMRA members may prefer to bolster the campaigning coffers by purchasing it instead from the CAMRA shop.






Thanks to CAMRA for the review copy. >

I don't usually have a problem with book reviewing. But putting together a cogent and concise summary of '500 Beers' has proved to be the exception. I've had the book for almost nine months now and barely given this review a thought. So, apologies to Zak Avery and his publishers. But there's one good reason it's taken me so damn long.

It's unputdownable.

With most of these beercyclopaedia-type books I like to source a couple of beers featured within, conduct my own tasting and compare notes. With '500 Beers', I've been working my way through and tried about fifty beers new to me. Page corners have become scuffed. The paper sleeve was lost a long time ago and there's now a 'beer ring of authenticity' on the cover where it was once used at an outdoor festival as an outsized beermat. Notes have been scribbled next to reviews. Expletives and exclamation marks have appeared where Zak and I differ in opinion.

I'm still struggling with his 'craft brewing' tag of "brewing beer with a focus on flavour and quality". Even when I do get a handle on it, craft really isn't the antonym of macro; macro-scale-brewing doesn't have to be bad and there's plenty of small-scale one-man-and-his-mashtun 'craft brewers' who knock out vinegary tripe.

But some of his assertions deserve to be shouted from the rooftops and become the cornerstone of any beer lover's philosophy. Such as, "Beer is made for drinking. It's essentially a simple pleasure". And he introduces hundreds of simple pleasures throughout the book. Beers are grouped into ten broad styles which become darker and more intense towards the end. Alongside the usual light-dark colour indicator and serving temperature recommendation, there's a neat touch - a light-to-full bodied rating, which comes into its own when comparing stouts and porters.

There's a sprightly introduction along with a well-crafted glossary and a genuinely interesting insights into beer ingredients; yeast in particular gets a well-deserved overview. Too often, this kind of content is treated as contractually-bound filler but Zak adds a real personal flavour to the proceedings.

It's a fairly compact book into which to shoehorn five hundred beer reviews but Zak turns brevity to his advantage. No repetitious flavour profiling here, just pithy observation and well-crafted insights. It's attractively illustrated, too, with judicious use of stock photography and the occasional bottle shot.

Early on in the book, Zak says "there is a lot of pleasure in finding a favourite that you return to time and time again". True with beer - that's what makes me a Reluctant Scooper. And now it's true with beer books; '500 Beers' has already become a slightly-war-torn but much-loved addition to my beery bookshelf. >

I was considering subcontracting this review to Jeremy Clarkson, the demin-clad hyperbole from Top Gear. Or perhaps Nigel Tufnel of Spinal Tap fame. Jezza would undoubtedly say that 1001 is a better book than Ben McFarland's World's Best Beers because this one has one more beer in it. Nige would concur; coz it's one higher. But surely the clincher is quality, not quantity? On a now-cramped 'must-try' beery bookshelf, groaning with weighty tomes that are thicker than a whale omelette, is there room for another?

I'd say so. Not only do you get coverage of a wide range of world brews, but it's written by an impressive array of over forty beer writers. Adrian Tierney-Jones does an admirable job as editor and contributor whilst roping in the expert opinion of reviewers from all over the world, such as Stan Hieronymus, Joris Pattyn and Jay Brooks. The book eschews a style-based structure and plumps for a colour-palette approach; that means shoe-horning those awkward beers into a 'speciality' section which rather unstitches the thread developed, although I'd doubt anyone would ever read the book section-by-section anyway.

The layout is clean and clear; brewery and beer background are covered in between 100 - 300 words along with concise tasting notes in a separate section. The accompanying pictures are bold and simple, perhaps a pump clip or a bottle and glass combo. What I really liked are the diverse collection of beer and brewery illustrations scattered liberally throughout; posters, stamps, watercolours, labels, signage, sculptures and a host of others that are as attractive as the text itself.

So if you've already got Ben McFarland's book, ought you make space on the shelf for this one? Absolutely. Both are complimentary; 1001 Beers has some great reference detail and backstory, World's Best Beers has an idiosyncratic approach and dry wit. I still think the format could do away with any kind of forced structure and just go with an A-Z approach; similarly, I'd like to see some seemingly sacred-cow beers left out to pasture rather than be reviewed just because they have near-iconic stature. But perhaps we'll see that if we ever get to '5000 Beers You Must Try But Probably Won't Live Long Enough To Drink Them All'.

For those of us who like a well-written reference work that you can happily meander through whilst enjoying a beer, 1001 Beers is a must-have addition to your beery bookshelf.

1001 Beers You Must Try Before You Die is published in the UK by Octopus Books. In the US, it's titled 1001 Beers You Must Taste Before You Die and is published by Universe.

Many thanks to Octopus for the review copy. >

Some say that a beer lover can never have too many books about beers of the world. Well... actually, I can. I've been there, bought them, cross-referenced them, bought an extra shelf for them and later dispactched 90% of them off to the charity shop. Because most of them are the worse kind of self-congratulatory claptrap.

"Look at me! I've drank lots of beer! I've managed to reword the phrase "mid-brown bitterish beer with a clean finish" over a hundred times! And I've included beers in here that a) you can't buy any more, b) you've never heard of and c) you'll never get to drink! All you can do is stare slackjawed at the pictures! HA!"

So, it's with even greater Reluctance than usual that I delved into a new offering. "World's Best Beers" is a weighty coffee-table tome that promised "a unique portfolio of boutique beers to savour, cherish and enjoy ". Was it worthwhile? You bet.

In fact, there are five reasons why it works so well and makes other 'best of' beer books feel lacklustre;

- It's written by Ben McFarland. Funny, passionate; not nerdy, not dry. And he brought us Beer Snob Bingo.

- It does actually look great. There's a keen use of white space, clean photos of pump clips/bottles to illustrate the beers, an uncluttered layout with touches of amber, russet and gold . It's beer-erotica, all those brews clad in bespoke glassware.

- There are honest tasting ratings. After all, it's not merely an illustrated directory. Rather than being overly-analytical, Ben offers ratings based on broad style indicators (such as Dark Side and Hop Head) as well as more emotive collections like the avant-garde ('New World'), off-the-wall ('All The Unusual') or beers best suited to quiet contemplation ('Think While You Drink').

- The articles are thriller rather than filler; sure, there's the seemingly-obligatory brewing/glassware/styles overview but the pearls here are the brewery profiles. The likes of Thornbridge, Mikkeller, Cantillon and Baladin are examined with insight and enthusiasm.

- Beer and food pairings are often deliberately esoteric or a pure lottery but I'm won over by Ben's suggestions. He makes a surefire case for pairings based on a keen understanding of how flavours complement or contrast, albeit whilst still including the cop-out of 'all beer goes with pizza'. But for pairing honey glazed duck with Kwak, the man deserves plaudits beyond his wildest dreams.

In fact, the whole of the food section is outstanding. Having 'guest' articles such as Stephen Beaumont's pairing rules, the El Bulli guide to the science of food and musings by Garrat Oliver makes for a more-rounded read than those books that include a beer-food chapter seemingly for the sake of it.

Best-beer books are an expression of the author's personality. That's why some are overly-factual and dense. Others are glossy and shallow. World's Best Beers is witty, irreverent, passionate and stylish. It's proof positive that beer writing can be entertainingly vicarious.

World's Best Beers: 1000 Unmissable Brews from Portland to Prague by Ben McFarland is published by Jacqui Small and available at all good booksellers, although in smaller stores you have to ask the lady behind the counter nicely to see if she can get a copy ordered in. They can't stock everything, you know. It's bad for their cashflow.

Many thanks to Aurum Press for the review copy. >