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Pappyland: A Story of Family, Fine Bourbon, and the Things That Last
The New York Times bestseller!
"A warm and loving reflection that, like good bourbon, will stand the test of time." -Eric Asimov, The New York Times
The story of how Julian Van Winkle III, the caretaker of the most coveted cult Kentucky Bourbon whiskey in the world, fought to protect his family's heritage and preserve the taste of his forebears, in a world where authenticity, like his product, is in very short supply.
Following his father's death decades ago, Julian Van Winkle stepped in to try to save the bourbon business his grandfather had founded on the mission statement: "We make fine bourbon-at a profit if we can, at a loss if we must, but always fine bourbon." With the company in its wilderness years, Julian committed to safeguarding his namesake's legacy or going down with the ship.
Then he discovered that hundreds of barrels from the family distillery had survived their sale to a multinational conglomerate. The whiskey that Julian produced after recovering those barrels would immediately be hailed as the greatest in the world-and soon would be the hardest to find. Once they had been used up, a fresh challenge began: preserving the taste of Pappy in a new age.
Wright Thompson was invited to ride along as Julian undertook the task. From the Van Winkle family, Wright learned not only about great bourbon but about complicated legacies and the rewards of honoring your people and your craft-lessons that he couldn't help but apply to his own work and life. May we all be lucky enough to find some of ourselves, as Wright Thompson did, in Pappyland.
"A warm and loving reflection that, like good bourbon, will stand the test of time." -Eric Asimov, The New York Times
The story of how Julian Van Winkle III, the caretaker of the most coveted cult Kentucky Bourbon whiskey in the world, fought to protect his family's heritage and preserve the taste of his forebears, in a world where authenticity, like his product, is in very short supply.
Following his father's death decades ago, Julian Van Winkle stepped in to try to save the bourbon business his grandfather had founded on the mission statement: "We make fine bourbon-at a profit if we can, at a loss if we must, but always fine bourbon." With the company in its wilderness years, Julian committed to safeguarding his namesake's legacy or going down with the ship.
Then he discovered that hundreds of barrels from the family distillery had survived their sale to a multinational conglomerate. The whiskey that Julian produced after recovering those barrels would immediately be hailed as the greatest in the world-and soon would be the hardest to find. Once they had been used up, a fresh challenge began: preserving the taste of Pappy in a new age.
Wright Thompson was invited to ride along as Julian undertook the task. From the Van Winkle family, Wright learned not only about great bourbon but about complicated legacies and the rewards of honoring your people and your craft-lessons that he couldn't help but apply to his own work and life. May we all be lucky enough to find some of ourselves, as Wright Thompson did, in Pappyland.
Editorial Reviews
"Bourbon is for sharing, and so is Pappyland." -Wall Street Journal
"A soulful journey that blends together biography, autobiography, philosophy, Kentucky history, the story of bourbon's origins and an insider's look at how the Van Winkle whiskey is made and marketed . . . Thompson, an ESPN senior writer by way of Mississippi, comes off as the Boswell of bourbon country here-a keen literary observer and respectful fanboy with an obvious affection for his subject . . . Pappyland moves smoothly through the family lore with the subtle nuances of a well-aged bourbon; it has top notes of stoicism and melancholy and a lingering finish of pride, even when recounting the hard times." -New York Times Book Review
"A warm and loving reflection that, like good bourbon, will stand the test of time." -Eric Asimov, The New York Times
"Pappyland is as invigorating as the smell of freshly cut Kentucky bluegrass, and goes down as smoothly as a glass of Pappy's beloved bourbon." -Shelf Awareness
"An amiable journey, courtesy of ESPN sportswriter Thompson, into the arcana of American whiskey [. . .] If you're a fan of the magic that is an artful bourbon, this is just the book for you." -Kirkus
"A fast-paced and colorful history of 20th-century Southern culture, told through the story of charismatic cult-bourbon maker Julian P. Van Winkle III. . . . ‘Being Southern,' Thompson writes, ‘means carrying a responsibility to shake off the comforting blanket of myth and see ourselves clearly.' Thompson more than fulfills that burden with insight and eloquence." -Publishers Weekly (starred)
"One of Wright Thompson's many gifts is his ability to give language to those intangibles of life that are, to the rest of us, indescribable. So his account of the Van Winkle family and its elusive, masterful bourbon is justly rendered in profound, utterly compelling fashion. Success and failure; legacy and sacrifice; the commitments to family and the fight to reclaim something lost to time-Pappyland fits neatly alongside th...
"A soulful journey that blends together biography, autobiography, philosophy, Kentucky history, the story of bourbon's origins and an insider's look at how the Van Winkle whiskey is made and marketed . . . Thompson, an ESPN senior writer by way of Mississippi, comes off as the Boswell of bourbon country here-a keen literary observer and respectful fanboy with an obvious affection for his subject . . . Pappyland moves smoothly through the family lore with the subtle nuances of a well-aged bourbon; it has top notes of stoicism and melancholy and a lingering finish of pride, even when recounting the hard times." -New York Times Book Review
"A warm and loving reflection that, like good bourbon, will stand the test of time." -Eric Asimov, The New York Times
"Pappyland is as invigorating as the smell of freshly cut Kentucky bluegrass, and goes down as smoothly as a glass of Pappy's beloved bourbon." -Shelf Awareness
"An amiable journey, courtesy of ESPN sportswriter Thompson, into the arcana of American whiskey [. . .] If you're a fan of the magic that is an artful bourbon, this is just the book for you." -Kirkus
"A fast-paced and colorful history of 20th-century Southern culture, told through the story of charismatic cult-bourbon maker Julian P. Van Winkle III. . . . ‘Being Southern,' Thompson writes, ‘means carrying a responsibility to shake off the comforting blanket of myth and see ourselves clearly.' Thompson more than fulfills that burden with insight and eloquence." -Publishers Weekly (starred)
"One of Wright Thompson's many gifts is his ability to give language to those intangibles of life that are, to the rest of us, indescribable. So his account of the Van Winkle family and its elusive, masterful bourbon is justly rendered in profound, utterly compelling fashion. Success and failure; legacy and sacrifice; the commitments to family and the fight to reclaim something lost to time-Pappyland fits neatly alongside th...
Readers Top Reviews
Robert E.KuffsCPD
Got the book fast in like new condition. Will be happy to dive in over a nice bourbon.
S. J. YoungRobert
If I were able, I'd give this a 4.5 star. Great story on the Van Winkle family; on whiskey; and I appreciated Wright's weaving his own story into it. That's how the story evolved. But the overall story of the south, whiskey, and the Van Winkle family history was exceptional. The only complaint I would have, and only legitimate one (the rest are overblown, imo), is that in an attempt to jump around and not make the story a simple straight narrative (which is not as entertaining in today's storytelling world) some of the stories were disjointed with some esoteric elements in the story, to the point that trying to follow could be confusing here and there. Some parts and people were introduced so subtly, then later re-introduced, that it created a more confusing element. Otherwise, great book and a great wordsmith. The insights into the problems of the whiskey industry (which perhaps may be a reason behind some dislike of this book) were eye-opening. Lastly, to speak to the complaints about politics. This is a massive over-reaction. This is not a political book nor is it laced with political elements as it appears to be from many of the reviews. It strikes me as a product of an overly sensitive environment. There were hardly any political elements and a minuscule reference to the former president that is blown out of proportion. There were a few and only brief references to the problematic issues of southern heritage; one which has both great tradition (which Wright touched on) and the dark spot of Jim Crow over past generations. If we are denying that element of past generations in the south and its impact - again, only touched on for a few seconds here and there, then not much more to say; other than such are a product of being overly sensitive and reading too much into the book.
michael d. grossm
This is a wonderful story of a family achieving great heights, failure, rebirth, soaring new achievement and always multi-generational togetherness. Follow them along the backroads of Kentucky through cornfields, wheat harvests, warehouses and late night trespasses. If you enjoy fine whiskey, you’ll treasure this story as much as you would a 15-year old Pappy.
Mason Mmichael d.
This book struck a cord with me. I loved learning about the Van Winkle family and how this intertwined with Wrights personal life along the way. Would recommend to anyone dabbling in whiskey
Susie L.Mason Mmi
This explained the bourbon process by humanizing it. I loved it.
Short Excerpt Teaser
On the afternoon of the Kentucky Oaks, I searched the grandstand at Churchill Downs for Julian P. Van Winkle III. It was Friday, the day before the Derby, and it looked like it might just stay beautiful and clear, a miracle this time of year in the humid South. As I made my way through a crowd of people with a sheen on their faces and seersucker stuck to their thighs, I thought of an old friend who once said that existing at our latitude felt like living inside someone's mouth. The breath of racehorses, summer humidity, Kentucky Straight Bourbon Whiskey-the South has many forms of heat, by-products of a place perched delicately on the edge between romance and hypocrisy. The Ole Miss band used to play a slow version of "Dixie" before the game, and even as I winced at the Confederate nostalgia, I also teared up because the song reminded me of my father. That's what Patterson Hood called the "Duality of the Southern Thing." The Derby distills those feelings. When horses turn for home, we are all wild and free, sweating and cheering, the dream on our breath and clutched in our fists. I admit I love that blood-sport rush.
The pageant of the big race swirled around me. The old Louisville families gathered in boxes along the stretch, gripping drinks and pari-mutuel tickets. I was at the track to write racing columns for my magazine and Julian was here, living another day in what seemed to be the endless spring break of his life. I didn't know him yet. We had met several times before to discuss a book about bourbon we wanted to write together. I was to help him tell the story of his bourbon, the mythical and rare Pappy Van Winkle, but it became clear that there was no way to separate the bourbon's mythology from his personal history. But that clarity lay before me. At the moment, I just needed to find the man in the madness at Churchill Downs.
I finally found him holding court in a box about halfway up the grandstand surrounded by old friends, a well-tailored blue-and-white-striped sport coat draped across his shoulders and reading glasses dangling from his neck beneath a peach-colored, whiskey barrel-patterned bow tie. Julian kept on-brand with his Pappy ball cap, and a lifetime of May afternoons in Kentucky had taught him to put on duck boots before heading to the track. He smiled when he saw me and handed me his flask of Weller 12. The whiskey went down smooth, with enough burn to let you know it was working, which was what my father used to say when he'd disinfect my cuts with hydrogen peroxide. Julian loves the 12-year-old Weller. He's got a storage facility full of it-and a bourbon club's fantasy of other rare bourbons. If you ask him where he keeps it, he'll wink and laugh and dissemble, but he won't give out the coordinates. "I went to the shed," he said. "My whiskey shed, the storage shed, whose location will remain anonymous. I'll show you a picture of it."
His wife, Sissy, saw me and waved. I think I might be in love with her. She's pretty, with a great laugh. Her smile is an invitation to pull up a seat. I had stepped into a party that had been raging for a generation or two. They had a bag of chocolates and a Seven Seas salad dressing bottle filled with bourbon. Julian often travels with his own booze. Wouldn't you? He is famous among friends for showing up at parties with half-pints of Pappy-used for tasting and testing barrels-and passing them around. They're called blue caps. I love the blue caps. Once, before I was about to give a speech, his son, Preston, handed me one to take onstage. I have this memory of Julian at a food and wine festival after-party-it was at a local Indian restaurant that had been turned into a Bollywood dance club-and he was floating around the dance floor, hands in the air, pausing only to give anyone who wanted a pull of the Pappy he kept in his pocket. In that moment, I wanted to know how someone got to be so free and if that freedom created his perfect whiskey, or the other way around. That night exists as a kind of psychedelic dream to me, the feeling of being whisked away in a black Suburban and ending up with streaky images of dancing and music and Pappy.
Julian looks more and more like Pappy every day. He's got a silver cuff of hair around his bald head and is quick with a joke, usually on himself. On his right hand, he wears a family ring just like the one his grandfather and father wore. The Van Winkles have a large number of traditions, the most famous of which is their whiskey. That fame doesn't make it any more or less important than the others. They are all just the things this old Southern family does in the course ...
The pageant of the big race swirled around me. The old Louisville families gathered in boxes along the stretch, gripping drinks and pari-mutuel tickets. I was at the track to write racing columns for my magazine and Julian was here, living another day in what seemed to be the endless spring break of his life. I didn't know him yet. We had met several times before to discuss a book about bourbon we wanted to write together. I was to help him tell the story of his bourbon, the mythical and rare Pappy Van Winkle, but it became clear that there was no way to separate the bourbon's mythology from his personal history. But that clarity lay before me. At the moment, I just needed to find the man in the madness at Churchill Downs.
I finally found him holding court in a box about halfway up the grandstand surrounded by old friends, a well-tailored blue-and-white-striped sport coat draped across his shoulders and reading glasses dangling from his neck beneath a peach-colored, whiskey barrel-patterned bow tie. Julian kept on-brand with his Pappy ball cap, and a lifetime of May afternoons in Kentucky had taught him to put on duck boots before heading to the track. He smiled when he saw me and handed me his flask of Weller 12. The whiskey went down smooth, with enough burn to let you know it was working, which was what my father used to say when he'd disinfect my cuts with hydrogen peroxide. Julian loves the 12-year-old Weller. He's got a storage facility full of it-and a bourbon club's fantasy of other rare bourbons. If you ask him where he keeps it, he'll wink and laugh and dissemble, but he won't give out the coordinates. "I went to the shed," he said. "My whiskey shed, the storage shed, whose location will remain anonymous. I'll show you a picture of it."
His wife, Sissy, saw me and waved. I think I might be in love with her. She's pretty, with a great laugh. Her smile is an invitation to pull up a seat. I had stepped into a party that had been raging for a generation or two. They had a bag of chocolates and a Seven Seas salad dressing bottle filled with bourbon. Julian often travels with his own booze. Wouldn't you? He is famous among friends for showing up at parties with half-pints of Pappy-used for tasting and testing barrels-and passing them around. They're called blue caps. I love the blue caps. Once, before I was about to give a speech, his son, Preston, handed me one to take onstage. I have this memory of Julian at a food and wine festival after-party-it was at a local Indian restaurant that had been turned into a Bollywood dance club-and he was floating around the dance floor, hands in the air, pausing only to give anyone who wanted a pull of the Pappy he kept in his pocket. In that moment, I wanted to know how someone got to be so free and if that freedom created his perfect whiskey, or the other way around. That night exists as a kind of psychedelic dream to me, the feeling of being whisked away in a black Suburban and ending up with streaky images of dancing and music and Pappy.
Julian looks more and more like Pappy every day. He's got a silver cuff of hair around his bald head and is quick with a joke, usually on himself. On his right hand, he wears a family ring just like the one his grandfather and father wore. The Van Winkles have a large number of traditions, the most famous of which is their whiskey. That fame doesn't make it any more or less important than the others. They are all just the things this old Southern family does in the course ...
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