MODERN lit just can’t hold its liquor. From David Carr to Augusten Burroughs, writers today seem as committed to not drinking as Ernest Hemingway and F. Scott Fitzgerald once celebrated their alcoholism, both in real life and on the page.
So has the literary lush all but dried out?
“Hard drinking used to be seen as a badge of respect, whereas now it’s seen as a crutch,” says Edward Hemingway, the grandson of Ernest. “Alcoholism is understood as more of a disease now than it was back in my grandfather’s day.”
Hemingway’s illustrated “Bartending Guide to Great American Writers” includes 43 authors and their favorite cocktails. (His grandfather’s was the mojito.)
No author writing today made the book’s list of 43, simply because contemporary scribes don’t drink enough to measure up. There are a few theories to explain the teetotalers of the 21st century.
“The professionalization of the literary world has led to a less romantic view of writers in general,” says literary agent David Kuhn. “I suspect that a lot of writers today drink as much as their heroes and heroines, but just don’t advertise it since we live in a more politically correct time.”
Still, Kuhn himself says he has never personally joined any writer for a three-martini lunch.
Elaine Kaufman, who has served generations of writers at Elaine’s, her literary watering hole, offers another explanation.
“When you don’t have anything else to write about, you write about being drunk,” she says. “But now that the world is moving so fast, there are a lot more things to write about, so drinking excessively is not as popular or necessary as it once was.”
Even if its popularity has faded, Pulse uncovered a few local scribes who haven’t completely given up on the power of strong drink.
jsilverman@nypost.com
Cecily von Ziegesar
“Gossip Girl” books
Favorite drink: Ginger Provincial, a specialty cocktail at The London Bar. It’s made with ginger-infused Smirnoff shaken with orange liqueur, lime and white cranberry juices. Whenever I have a head cold and need to clear my sinuses, two of these seem to do the trick. My agent’s office is also right across the street; I prefer meeting over drinks than eating lunch together.
On drinking and writing: Although the “Gossip Girl” characters do drink quite a lot, I’m really not a big drinker and I don’t smoke pot. I drink when I go out, but I don’t drink while I’m writing. If I drink too much, I end up throwing up in a dumpster somewhere, which I’ve done many times. I think I’ve thrown up everywhere in this city. I’m a disaster, and my friends make fun of me for it. But I’ve never connected that with the writing process.
On not drinking and writing: People are freer now to just speak up whenever they want. Those other writers in the past came from a much more buttoned-up society. The mask people wore then was much thicker. In order to access their true self and drop the mask, they had to get drunk. Now we are in the age of reality shows, where people are baring their asses on camera all the time. There are certainly days when at 5 p.m., I’m like, “OK, I need a beer.” But it doesn’t have to do with writing. It usually has to do with just having a stressful day with my children. Children drive me to drink. I used to think it was so weird that my parents had cocktail hour. It was a mystery to me. But now I get it.
Douglas Rushkoff
“Media Virus,” “Ecstasy Club,” etc.
Favorite drink: The Margarella; it’s like a margarita but made with vodka instead of tequila. I was friends with Tim Leary, and he once asked me to bring him tequila. But I thought he said Ketel One. So I got there with the vodka and he told me not to worry about it. He went to the kitchen and came back with this cocktail he called the “Margarella,” a margarita made with vodka! Later I was on a date with this disco rave girl, telling her about the Margarella, and she told me that the drink is actually called a kamikaze.
On drinking and writing: Real writers don’t drink cocktails. Real writers drink straight liquor. You’ve got to be able to dose it properly. When I was a drinking writer, I would write with a bottle of sipping whisky with me. But very few of us are still drinking writers. Writing has been divorced from some of its essential chemicals. Writers these days can have fairly normal marriages, with kids. And that doesn’t really mix with drinking at 11 a.m. A lot of writers are also on antidepressants now, which doesn’t make writing better. Prozac cures the need to write. You’re also not supposed to drink on Prozac.
On not drinking and writing: The thing that’s been lost is the machismo. The Norman Mailer, Hemingway thing. We are all soft and squishy little writer people now. I mean, who are edgy writers now? Dave Eggers? Jonathan Safran Foer? Great guys, and pushing an envelope for sure, but we’re telling a different story now. In the old days, you got your advance and then independently suffered through writing your book. Now a writer coming up has to have a blog, and a forum, and do regular media articles and a column, and they are much more like little enterprises of their own. The new writer culture is more about personal celebrity and memoir – a thin sexy girl who used to be a stripper and is now a writer. This new media culture is not about going to Chumley’s with someone. The bar is no longer at the center of writing culture.
Janice Erlbaum
“Girlbomb,” “Have You Found Her”
Favorite drink: The key lime martini; it’s vanilla vodka with lime juice and a little cream. Some places will even put a graham cracker crust around the rim. I like it because it’s super sweet and tastes like dessert. It was also the signature drink at the hotel where my husband and I got married, the W Hotel in Union Square. So I have a sentimental attachment to it. But I also have a taste-bud attachment. It’s girlie, and I like that in a drink. The glass balances so elegantly in one’s little fingers. The drink is twee, but writers are twee, so I’m allowed.
On drinking and writing: I was always more of a pothead myself. When I wrote my first book, there was always an ashtray with a joint right next to it in the computer. I can certainly imagine how writers whose drug of choice is alcohol would have a bottle right there.
On not drinking and writing: In the past, it was sort of adorable and charming if you got drunk or threw up on somebody, or were insulting and had it come to fisticuffs. That was all part of the mystique. But now that stuff is no good. You have to be a businessperson as a writer. Half of the job is the actual composing at your keyboard, the other half is selling yourself and schmoozing. As much as it’s easier to schmooze if you’ve had a drink, if you’ve had three drinks then all of a sudden you are a bad businessman. It’s also really hard to write when you are drunk. Writing is really difficult, and it’s much easier if you have both lobes of your brain working. These guys in the past somehow managed, but their output probably could have been 10 times greater if they hadn’t drank so much.
Kenji Jasper
“Snow,” “Dark,” etc.
Favorite drink: A Dakota Grand; it’s Mount Gay rum and orange juice. I created this drink myself and named it after my college nickname. When I first moved here from Atlanta nine years ago I didn’t drink at all, but I started hanging out with rum drinkers. They got tired of me drinking cranberry juice all the time, so as a transition they started giving me rum and Coke. I decided to switch it up for the summer and tried rum with OJ, and that stuck.
On drinking and writing: I’m generally a late afternoon or night writer, so I can’t say that you won’t find a trace of alcohol in my system while I write. But it’s not like I have a glass next to the keyboard, sipping liberally as I go along and write. That’s not how my ideas come to me. That’s not where my focus is.
On not drinking and writing: In today’s publishing business, you have far more writers but far fewer characters. Corporate control has filtered into every art form. So there is not the same kind of tolerance there once was for behavior like not turning drafts in on time. They will make you turn in what you have and then go find someone else to finish it for you. Yes, there will always be room for the drunken fools’ writing, but no longer for the drunken fools themselves. Also, drinking in some circles is almost seen as what your parents do. I think that in our generation it’s more the warm-up to something else, or the cool-down from something else. I don’t know a writer who doesn’t drink, but maybe only 25 percent of them would list that as their main vice. Maybe they’re into meditation, or into yoga, or into marijuana, or even something harder.
Michael Malice
Co-author of “Made in America,” “Overheard in New York.”
Favorite drink: A gin gimlet. I went to this frat college, which was the biggest mistake of my life because I hate beer. As an alternative, there was always gin and tonic, but I considered that too gauche. So I discovered the gin gimlet. The good thing about it is that towards the end of the night you just can’t drink anymore because your throat is all grossed out by the lime juice. It’s a good way to keep yourself from getting too drunk.
On drinking and writing: I’m not a mean drunk, I’m a mean person who gets drunk. So if I’m out at a book release party or around business, it’s better to keep it in check.
On not drinking and writing: Nowadays, writers are a lot dorkier. I would kill to be Bret Easton Ellis, circa 1986, but writers are not remotely like the rock stars they were 20 years ago. They are much bigger nerds. I have no explanation for this phenomenon whatsoever. Maybe it’s because being a writer is less of an accomplishment today than it used to be. There is so much more media that it’s easier to become a “writer.” There is this tenacity, once you get your foot in the door, to try to do everything right, because you know there are so many people waiting to replace you if you mess up.