The Worst of Bruce/Bob, Bourbon, and Books

This semi-regular series alternates between Bob Dylan and Bruce Springsteen songs that perfectly (or imperfectly in today's case) complement a good bourbon and a quality book. You can make your own suggestions and recommendations in the comments section or by tweeting @WritersBone.

Bruce/Bob

Daniel Ford: Before you read my thoughts on Springsteen’s “Adam Raised A Cain,” become reacquainted with the lyrics and chorus. Go ahead, I’ll wait.

Gah, even the lyrics make me wish I was Cain getting split open by a scythe.

I can defend most Bruce songs. (yeah)

But I hate this one. (yeah)

Adam raised a Cain? (yeah)

Okay, your father was a dick. (yeah)

You already wrote “Growin' Up” and “Independence Day.” We get it, Bruce. (yeah)

This tune is redundant and uninspired. (yeah)

Faux angst is the worst kind of angst. (yeah)

And it has the most awful backup singer cheers other than “Glory Days.” (yeah)

At least “Glory Days” knows what it is. (yeah)

“Adam Raised A Cain” is filler on an otherwise great Springsteen album. (yeah)

Dave Pezza: Let’s be honest with ourselves about something; even the best of the best phone it in sometimes. Every now and again, even power houses like Bob Dylan just come up with a total, utter dud. “Dignity” by Bob Dylan is most certainly that lemon. This song sucks out loud, in electric and acoustic. The most well-known versions of this song are probably from the “MTV Unplugged” and “Tell Tale Signs: The Bootleg Series Vol. 8” albums. In both albums this song stops all recognizable audio and emotional flow. In the bootleg series it follows a double shot of prime rib Dylan blues and sorrow. This really, really, really good volume of Dylan’s outtakes/rarities series opens with a truly soulful and heart wrenching version of “Mississippi” and follows with what is, in my opinion, the best recorded version of Dylan’s hopeful heartbreak ballad “Most of the Time.” What could possibly follow up this tandem? A gritty version of “The Times Are a Changing” perhaps?  Or how about a much more listenable take on “Idiot Wind?” Nope. An aborted version of “Dignity,” a piano-based track that must have been recorded by some tramp Dylan pulled off the street in exchange for a ham sandwich. This is the Dylan equivalent of the Beatles’ “Piggies.” Not only is it a truly bad song, but it sticks it’s wretchedness right in the middle of pure audio art, like a middle-aged women who shoves her landslide of a shopping cart in front of you in line at the supermarket, just as you catch the eyes of the cute check-out girl.

Even in the “MTV Unplugged” version, Dylan punches you in the face with this preachy pile of sour milk by hiding it between a masterful eight-and-a-half minute live version of “Desolation Row” and a bluesy, harmonica-accented “Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door.” Bob should have left this one in the dumpster next to his Christmas horror movie theme song.

Bourbon

Even the logo is depressing.

Dave: Old Grand-Dad is not good. It’s not good to taste; it’s not good for your body (they call it gut rot for a reason); it’s not even that good to mix. But it is cheap, like really cheap, and it is bourbon. So, there you go. Drink up.

Daniel: Dave mentioned the name of this bourbon and I grew an extra patch of hair on my chest. I know he’s going to make me drink this during a night out with Sean Tuohy when we’re trying to play the part of brooding writers. My hope is there will be multiple beer chasers nearby. 

Book

Daniel: I hated A Separate Peace, but I really hated Lord of the Flies. Everyone in my high school class seemed shocked and saddened by Piggy’s death, but I considered him lucky that he didn’t have to suffer through the end of this dystopian turd. Instead of rescuing these young heathens, the adults should have dropped a few nukes and then built a luxury resort. I’m not a huge fan of allegories to begin with, so I don’t give a damn whether or not Ralph crying over Piggy’s death symbolizes “the end of innocence” or that the whole book is a critique of human impulses. Fuck you! I’m pretty sure an A-bomb would have been a more effective metaphor. Read 1984, The Road, The Giver, or A Clockwork Orange if you’re hankering for a dystopian novel. Or watch “Blade Runner” for Christ’s sake. Anything else is better than trudging through this jungle filled with prepubescent assholes that deserve napalm for Christmas.

Dave: I don’t like Lord of the Flies either. But I really hate The Awakening by Kate Chopin. There are numerous ways to make the book better, but the most satisfying way is to have Edna Pontellier walk herself into the Gulf of Mexico over and over again until it drowns away the time I just spent torturing myself. And I don’t believe for a second the myth that this book helped turn-of-the-century female authors break-out of the male, chauvinistic writing world. If anything, this novel sets women’s rights back a decade. Yea, the only way to solve this love triangle is to have the lead female character off herself. Jesus. Melodramatic much? Skip this work entirely and pick yourself up some top quality books written by some top quality female authors like To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf or 1970s' Desperate Characters by Paula Fox.

For more Bruce/Bob, Bourbon, and Books, check out our full archive.

Bruce, Bourbon, and Books: All The Light Tends To Go To Atlantic City

This semi-regular series alternates between Bob Dylan and Bruce Springsteen songs that perfectly complement a good bourbon and a quality book. You can make your own suggestions and recommendations in the comments section or by tweeting @WritersBone.

Bruce

Daniel Ford: There are a handful of songs that immediately send me back to stumbling toward my potential in a small New York City apartment, not knowing when my limited supply of money would run out, leaving me with “debts no honest man can pay.” Bruce Springsteen’s “Atlantic City” might be at the top of that list. Despair permeates every lyric, but hope—even if it’s a fool’s hope—muscles itself in only to be smacked down again by unyielding obstacles. I’ve heard this song performed live multiple times, and the crowd reaction is immediate, guttural. We’re in the car with Bruce headed toward the hell that surely awaits us in Atlantic City, screaming as if we’ve finally discovered the only place we’ll feel at home. It’s a song about last chances, big dreams, the darkness that eclipses the small amount of light we’re allotted, and getting the fuck out of our own ways. “Put your makeup on/fix your hair up pretty” because damnation awaits and you’ve got to look your fucking best.

One of my favorite live versions of “Atlantic City” is the track on “Live in Dublin,” which features Bruce with The Sessions Band. The rendition, which breathes new life into early American music, hardwires even more desperation and bite into the tune. Blowing up chicken men in Philly has never been more fun.

Dave Pezza: Thank God, I thought we’d never make it to “Atlantic City.” This song has been my favorite Bruce song for as long as I can remember. It struck a chord with me in high school as a dowdy and socially frustrated teenager. The thought of having the balls to pack up your life, no matter how little is left of it, and risking it all on the open road felt so freeing, so hopeful in a sad way to me then, never mind the romantics of trusting that she'll meet you once your there, that you two will share it all or nothing at all with you. It made a deep impression on my psyche and always will. As I got older this song has always reminded me of the how much of a real bitch life is. Bruce’s somber, all but defeated tone makes you feel honest, desperate hope, a hope that I have since realized is such a daily necessity, just to get you up some morning, just to get you through some days. So much hangs on the balance in this song; he has no idea if he’ll make it to Atlantic City, that what he is running from won’t catch him before he gets there. He has no idea if she’ll even meet him there. And even then, once he gets there, he’s still got to risk everything.

Bruce’s mournful, gorgeous harmonica and his chilling guitar fade out reminds you that there always a hope that you can pack it up and make one last go of it. You might not make it, she might not follow, and you’ll still be screwed even if you make it there, but you sure as hell still got to try. Because maybe, just maybe, everything that dies someday comes back.

Bourbon

Dave: This week’s bourbon fits really well with our song and book, and we didn’t even plan it that way. Colonel E.H. Taylor, Jr.’s Small Batch bourbon whiskey is not for the faint of heart. My aunt bought me a bottle of Colonel Taylor’s for my birthday this year, and I was saving it until we needed to try out a new bourbon. I honestly could not form an opinion on this bourbon for the first few sips. Colonel Taylor’s is harsh like strong whiskey should be but finishes like some of its more refined brothers. This is a bourbon for when you want to drink. Period. It’s not for the weak of palate nor the faint of stomach. I can picture Bruce gulping down a few fingers before heading to the tables in Atlantic City to toss it all on red, or Jacob McNeely, the main character in David Joy’s Where All the Light Tends to Go, drinking it straight from the bottle as he loads his shotgun at his dining room table. I wanted to dislike this bourbon on first taste, but I couldn’t. I just hadn’t mustered up the stones for it. Next time I’ll be ready.

Book

Daniel: As Dave correctly proves above, David Joy's Where All the Light Tends to Go pairs perfectly with "Atlantic City" because both involve characters' burning desire to flee a bad situation (and isn't bourbon usually the elixir to either get you moving, more likely, tie you to the dark place you're in?). You’d swear some of the perfectly crafted lines in this work swam out of a high-end bottle of bourbon, picked up the first shotgun they saw, and blasted their way through Appalachia. A few examples:

“Outlawing was just as much a matter of blood as hair color and height.”

“A girl like that couldn’t stay. Not forever, and certainly not for long.”

“I’d been around crank my whole life, so it had never been a drug, only money.”

“There are some souls that even the devil wants no part of.”

If that’s not enough for you, Joy’s debut novel also features vinyl records, redneck meth dealers, teenage angst, and bulls (aka police officers). Where All the Light Tends to Go closes with an final scene as shattering and powerful as: “Everything dies baby that's a fact/But maybe everything that dies someday comes back.” Based on the author’s answers during our recent interview, I have a feeling David Joy is going to be supplying readers with bourbon-infused material for years to come. 

For more Bruce/Bob, Bourbon, and Books, check out our full archive.

Bruce, Bourbon, and Books: Jefferson’s On Fire

This series alternates between Bob Dylan and Bruce Springsteen songs that perfectly complement a good bourbon and a quality book. You can make your own suggestions and recommendations in the comments section or tweeting @WritersBone.

Bruce

Daniel: "I'm On Fire" is an anthem to youth, infidelity, and mischief. Every emotion every young man in love has experienced in the history of mankind can be summed up in this one line: “Sometimes it's like someone took a knife baby/Edgy and dull and cut a six-inch valley/Through the middle of my soul.”

While the lyrics are inspired as always (no one has used the word “baby” in a song so expertly; it rattles your demons every time he sings it), the music drives the tune. It is constantly building in this song, but never boils over (a Springsteen hallmark). All the bubbling happens under the surface, and by surface, I mean his pants. Bruce has a hard on for this woman that’s stronger than a chrome engine, but he’s not scumbag enough (at least not in this song) to follow through with his desires.

This song could easily be about a writer struggling with the desire to create something truly original. It’s suicide to chase the muse full throttle at times, but keeping your emotions in check through a sweat-soaked restlessness can be just as soul-shattering.

Before I hand the mic over to Dave, I’d like to point out that if Springsteen told any woman (and most men for that matter) that he was on fire for them, relationships and families would be destroyed instantly. Yes Bruce, we’re on fire too.

Dave: I mentioned in an earlier post that I’m relatively new to the majority of the Springsteen catalogue, however, I’ve been playing “Born in the U.S.A.” since I was old enough to steal my older brother’s CDs. For me, “I’m On Fire” has always been a song that gripped my heart in a special way. I didn’t quite understand how or why until college. “I’m On Fire,” in accordance with its lecherous and soul-torturing tone, anthemed my blundering efforts to capture the heart of a beautiful and dangerously intriguing woman. Bruce couldn’t have captured the angst of young, unrequited love better; it still cuts, edgy and dull at my heart (we would date throughout college but never quite made the transition into real adult life). But the song, and Bruce’s own love life, captures love and life at its core: desire is just that, a wish. At some point, that aching is either cooled or explodes, changing yourself and reality for better or for worse. So when you wake up in the middle of the night, that freight train rumbling through the middle of your head, you gotta ask yourself, “Is she worth it?”

Bourbon

Dave: It just so happens that I moonlight as a college volleyball coach, and, after returning from a tournament in the badass state of New Hampshire, I couldn’t help but stop at the state line and indulge in some tax-free, price-slashed booze (damn does New Hampshire know how to sell hooch!). There, after spending my paycheck on a variety of bourbon, I came across a special stock of Jefferson’s “very” small batch Kentucky Straight Bourbon Whiskey, specially distilled for the State of New Hampshire. Sold. A month later, a couple buddies and I opened it before heading to the bar. I poured two fingers worth, and then two more…and then two more before we headed out into the cold December night.

Jefferson’s, especially this special batch, is smooth and tasty with a healthy dose of vanilla. You can put back the Jefferson’s like it’s your job, or like you’ve survived another week of dream-torching, life-numbing corporate banality. How does it pair with this week’s Bruce pick? Well despite the fact that nothing is more American than Bruce Springsteen, bourbon, and Thomas Jefferson (@JeffsBourbon, we accept cash, credit, and money orders). Jefferson’s is a pleasant reminder that, at the end of hard days, loves lost, and choices regretted, friends and a finely crafted brown liquor can help you look past it all, if only for the night. But be careful, for goodness sake, this stuff packs a punch. Definitely do not have six fingers with no supper, followed by numerous beers; you’ll end up on all fours in front of porcelain on Saturday morning.

Daniel: Am I drinking Jefferson’s out of a Superman travel mug right now? Does it make me feel like a superhero? Am I being quietly judged by Dave, a known Batman homer?

All answers point to yes because there is no wrong way to consume alcohol. Unless…

I’m happy to say this bourbon is unlike its foppish namesake. It only takes one sip to discover it’s a sweet, enjoyable dark alcohol sure to put out or stoke your fire depending on your mood.

Book

Dave: I was introduced to George Saunders by a college professor friend of mine. He suggested I check him out after a conversation about postmodernists and humorists (yeah, we’re pretty cool). I finally picked up a copy of Tenth of December, Saunders’ latest collection of short stories. The collection features 10 terribly well-constructed short stories ranging from attempted kidnapping to questions of social conformity and bigger questions about the value of life and death. It was a 2014 National Book Award Finalist, which I don’t find surprising. Saunders’ style comes across as a mix of humor and macabre that has you fighting to decide which emotion to express page after page to great effect. The book’s eponymous story rounds the collection’s emotional careening. Tenth of December is a story you think you’ve pegged from the first few pages, but manages to reel your heart in directions you didn’t know it could be wretched. There is plenty of hurt in this book, but, much like our Bruce song this week, Saunders’ leaves you stronger at the broken places.

For more Bruce/Bob, Bourbon, and Books, check out our full archive.

Bruce, Bourbon, and Books: Wild Turkey in the Night

This semi-regular series alternates between Bob Dylan and Bruce Springsteen songs that perfectly complement a good bourbon and a quality book. You can make your own suggestions and recommendations in the comments section or by tweeting @WritersBone.

Bruce

Hazy Dave Pezza: “Spirit in the Night” has become one of my favorite Bruce songs and defines, in my opinion, the magical nature of Bruce’s debut album “Greetings from Asbury Park, N.J.”  “Spirit in the Night” is, has been, or will be every 20-something’s mantra: a few kids living through the spirits in the night, drinking, screwing, and fighting their way to sunrise. How Bruce manages to get your body moving, your eyes tearing, and your libido boiling simultaneously is a mystery that has inspired generations. This early, but legendary, track features some of Bruce's best lines and innuendos and keeps you alive all night, from cocktail hour to nightcap.  My only suggestion: grab your own Crazy Janey and a bottle of Wild Turkey first.

Daniel Ford: I must admit that “Spirit in the Night isn’t one of my favorite Springsteen songs. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a brilliant display of songwriting and musicianship, but not a song I can listen to on endless repeat. A little bit of this tune goes a long way for me. And unlike Dave, I’m partial to the live versions from 1973 and 1975. That being said, I think “and she kissed me just right, like only a lonely angel can,” is one of the best lyrics in the history of songwriting, and any song with a characters named “Wild Billy” and “Hazy Davy” and settings like “Greasy Lake” and “Gypsy Angel Row” is the perfect companion to this Friday’s bourbon.

Also, I have to confess that while Hazy Davey and I were listening to this song repeatedly in order to accurately capture our feelings about it, I was pounding my foot on the floor, dancing manically in my chair, and singing the entire time. 

Bourbon

Hazy Davey: Ah, finally we have made our way to Wild Turkey 81, the definitive working man’s bourbon. Wild Turkey is not smooth, at all. Named 81 after its proof, Turkey 81 will remind you what drinking bourbon is all about. Harsh and warm, it makes it easy to keep tipping that elbow on a cold fall night. Wild Turkey 81 might not be the fanciest or best-tasting bourbon on the market, but it’ll get you where you need to go with some attitude. Perfect as a shot with your night’s first Budweiser, Wild Turkey might be a dangerously good companion to “Spirit in the Night.” Drop the needle, pour a shot or two, crack a few beers, and toast to a weekend well-earned. See where it takes you…

Daniel: One of my favorite journalism professors (the late, great Kalev Pehme) ended every class by telling us how eager he was to be reunited with his bottle of Wild Turkey. It was tough for him to hand out compliments, but I received two during my college tenure. I like to think he was at the bottom of a bottle when he graded both of those papers. In his memory, I bought a bottle of Wild Turkey 81 while stocking up for Hurricane Sandy in 2012 (hurricane preparation in New York City typically involves buying copious amounts of alcohol). Let’s just say, the lights in my apartment weren't the only ones that went out. The events of that evening convinced me that I should opt for Wild Turkey only when I’m in the deepest depths of writing despair and need as many “spirits in the night” as possible. 

Book

Daniel: What goes better with a working man’s bourbon than a book featuring good ole American ass kicking? Rick Atkinson completed his epic Liberation Trilogy last year by expertly depicting the Allied Force’s liberation of Europe in The Guns At Last Light. Much like the first two entries in the series—the Pulitzer Prize-winning An Army At Dawn and critically-acclaimed The Day Of Battle—The Guns At Last Light details plenty of glory, but also military incompetence, poor leadership, and smoking (the amount of cigarettes the armies went through every month is truly staggering). If you need a drinking game in order to plow through the 896-page tome, take a shot of Wild Turkey 81 every time Ernest Hemingway pops up. You’ll be drunk by the time you reach an Allied-occupied brothel in Paris (I’d recommend drinking every time British General Bernard Montgomery acts like a wanker, but I don’t want to kill you).

Hazy Davey: Canny Danny recommended this book to me some time ago, and I only just picked it up and began devouring it. Atkinson has been praised for creating one of the best World War II narratives from the American perspective, and the praise is entirely earned. I started at the end of his Liberation Trilogy, jumping right into the invasion of Normandy. Atkinson paints the war effort in remarkable broad strokes from the highest general to the lowest private. He throws in facts so unprecedented that your head begins to hurt. He even traces the roles famous American and British figures throughout the war, such as Kurt Vonnegut’s capture and imprisonment by German forces in Dresden (surviving the inferno caused by Allied bombing that would inspire Slaughterhouse Five) and Ernest Hemingway, who was reporting on the war for Time magazine and lead a cadre of resistance fighters behind the Allied  troops during the liberation of Paris (he and his irregulars entered into the Ritz and ordered a round of drinks soon after). Atkinson makes it all too easy to be a proud American in this large final volume, while not forgiving the U.S. of it major flaws. Bruce, Wild Turkey, and American World War II badassery? Happy Friday!

For more Bruce/Bob, Bourbon, and Books, check out our full archive.

Bob, Bourbon, and Books: Maker’s Mark Will Be Staying Here With You

Official GIF of Bob, Bourbon, and Books

For those of you expecting Bruce Springsteen, he’ll be back next week. We decided to alternate this series between Bob Dylan and Springsteen songs that perfectly complement a good bourbon and a quality book. You can make your own suggestions and recommendations in the comments section or by tweeting @WritersBone.

By Daniel Ford and Dave Pezza

Bob

Photo by Dave Pezza

There isn’t a reliable YouTube clip of either of the following versions of "Tonight I'll Be Staying Here With You," so go out and buy the albums we mention below. It’ll be worth the money, trust us.

Dave: (studio version) I’ve always liked Bob Dylan, but it was only recently that I really began to really appreciate his music. I’ve hit my folk phase in my mid-20s, and nobody can folk out like Dylan. I recently picked up a copy of his 1969 album “Nashville Skyline.” I bought it on vinyl at a local used record store in Cranston, R.I. called the Time Capsule (decent selection, really cheap prices, and every once and a while you find a gem). I hit up the smaller than usual Dylan section to feed my new addiction. First record of the bunch, “Nashville Skyline.” I flipped it over to check the tracks and found side A, track one, “Girl from the North Country Fair,” the version with Johnny Cash. Sold! I took it and my other purchase, The Edgar Winter Group’s “They Only Come Out at Night” (the one with “Frankenstein”) and seven bucks and 10 minutes later “Nashville Skyline” is playing on my turntable. Enthralled to hear Dylan and Cash right off the bat, I stayed for a really enjoyable Dylan record from start to finish, especially the finish. Lying in wait at the very end of the album is “Tonight I’ll be Staying Here with You.” This quite perfect mix of folk and blues undertones will have you dancing before you know it. Dylan beams about ditching his bus ride home to stay with a lady. In case you haven’t experienced the feeling of sheer jubilance and excitement about a night with a pretty girl in a while, Dylan will conjure it all back in three and a half minutes. This track croons with slide guitar and dangerously catchy lyrics. It’s Dylan at his most enjoyable. Perfect to pair with this week’s bourbon: smooth, warm, and full American flavor from start to finish.

Daniel: (Live 1975 version) The studio version of this song is a love sick high school boy’s wistful dream compared to the raucous, brassy live version from “The Bootleg Series, Volume 5: Live 1975: The Rolling Thunder Revue.” In fact, we’re going to call this the “wet dream version” from now on. This is what burning down your life to be with the woman you love should sound like. Guttural. Dylan screams this song more than he sings it. You can imagine him throwing middle fingers to the world. The bus? No one likes the bus. It’s a necessary evil. I once had to take the bus every weekend to see my girlfriend and every time I left Boston, I wanted to incinerate my suitcase, hop a cab back to the burbs, break down a door, and announce, “I should have left this town this morning/But it was more than I could do/Oh, your love comes on so strong/And I've waited all day long/For tonight when I'll be staying here with you.”

It's fitting that this song leads the album. You know right away what you’re in for. You’re not sipping bourbon to this song; you’re pounding fingers while shouting from your open window you’re staying put to have crazy, experimental, and neighborhood-awakening sexual relations with the beautiful woman you just gave everything up for (put a little Maker’s Mark behind your ears so she can enjoy the experience along with you if having a full glass isn’t her thing). If this song doesn’t rev you up and make you plant a deep, passionate wet one on your lover’s lips, you aren’t alive and should report to the cemetery immediately.

Bourbon

Dave: This week’s bourbon is the very recognizable, but always reliable, Maker’s Mark. It's the standard “good bourbon” at most bars. Not too expensive, it is a sweeter, smoother bourbon. As a result, it is perfect for drinking neat, but also makes a damn good cocktail. My pallet catches a definitive vanilla and cherry flavor on top of that always amazing oak. It warms more than it burns after it’s all the way down. It pairs really well with this cruising, swaying Dylan song. Shockingly well. To top it all off, the bourbon is packaged with an incredibly cool wax top. Maker’s Mark, named after the seal used to distinguish its product, dips the tip of every bottle in wax. Each bottle remains sealed until you crack it open with your own two hands. Nothing like a little bit of class with your buzz.

Daniel: I hadn’t tried Maker’s Mark until a recent visit to Sweet Cheeks Q near Fenway Park (I highly recommend this barbeque joint to those that live in the Boston area or those that plan to visit it in the near future). Dave incessantly tells me that this is his “go-to bourbon,” so I decided to order one to judge for myself (and to finally get him off my case). First of all, Maker’s Mark is an excellent bourbon to pair with copious amounts of barbeque. Taking hits of it from my mason jar after pile driving pulled pork into my gullet was heavenly. It provided the right amount of smoothness and fire to go along with my sides of potato salad and macaroni and cheese. The best part was that Stephanie Schaefer said my drink looked like a urine sample. I’ll admit that Sweet Cheeks was a little stingy with the amount of bourbon they poured into my jar, but come on, doesn’t this look gritty and man-tastic?

Okay, fine, the mason jar doesn’t do it any favors. Still, Maker’s Mark will now have a reserved spot in my whiskey drawer at Writer’s Bone HQ.

Book

Daniel: What is it about westerns that make them the perfect complement to bourbon? Is it the questionable cowboy ethics and worldview? Or the lonely, dusty prairie bars that cry out for brown liquor salvation? Or is it the need to drown your sorrows after reading about the treatment of Native Americans during our country’s bloody history? Whatever the case, drinking bourbon is always better when reading a western, and there is no better western than Larry McMurtry’s Lonesome Dove. The novel features every western trope imaginable, but it feels fresh and feisty rather than quaint and dated. All of the characters are intriguing and you find yourself fully immersed in the plot’s last chance cattle drive. Plus, sex is referred to as “a poke” throughout the entire book. The novel was also made into an acclaimed mini-series in 1989 staring Tommy Lee Jones, Robert Duvall, and Diane Lane. So that means if you imbibe too much Maker’s Mark and can’t decipher the English language on your own, you can just pop in a DVD and watch the story unfold while you drink the rest of the bottle. Lonesome Dove also features two names that belong on a Maker’s Mark commercial: Gus McCrae and Woodrow Call. I’d buy brown hooch from those two gentlemen. It’s their friendship that defines this book, and you’ll need all the whiskey you deal with how their story ends.

Bruce/Bob, Bourbon, and Books Archive

Bruce, Bourbon, and Books: Bulleit Brings the Devil Out

Official video of Bruce, Bourbon, and Books

 By Daniel Ford and Dave Pezza

This semi-regular series will expertly pair a Springsteen song, a good bourbon, and a quality book for your listening, drinking, and reading pleasure. You can make your own suggestions and recommendations in the comments section or by tweeting @WritersBone.

Bruce

Daniel: Dark. Moody. Apocalyptical. Hypnotic harmonica. In short, the perfect song to pair with a glass of bourbon. This tune had a prominent spot on the playlist I listened to while writing my first novel. I have a feeling it will make an appearance on the one I’ll use for my next one.

Bourbon

Bulleit Bourbon Frontier Whiskey

Dave: A 90 proof bourbon, Bulleit Frontier Whiskey is smoother than Jim Beam’s White Label or Wild Turkey’s 81 proof, but a little more expensive. As a result, it is a dangerous night cap well worth the price. You’re a few glasses into the bottle before you know what hit you. It lacks a bit of flavor right out of the bottle, replacing flavored accents with a bite that feels right for a dark mood. Add a cube of ice or a dash of water, and this bourbon opens up a little, sweetening up as the night goes on.

Book

Dave: Quite a good pick to accompany bourbon and Bruce. The Hot Kid is one of Leonard’s last handful of novels before his death in 2013. The novel follows, surprise surprise, a U.S. Marshal by the name of Carlos Webster and his exploits against the bank robbers and gangsters of 1920s. Carl is Leonard’s quintessential hero: straight forward, possess well-developed comedic sense, is a hit with the ladies, and is as honest as possible while trying to do his Spanish American War-decorated father right. Carl takes down and teams up with gangsters and outlaws, in stand offs and badass lines what would later come out in the Leonard-inspired “Justified” television series. Just like this week’s other picks, Leonard writes Carl and the story’s whores, gangsters, reporters, and U.S. Marshals smoother than they look, with a rough edge to remind you of the true way of the world. It’ll get you to where you need to be by the night’s end. Devour this thriller with large doses of whiskey, like you’re hiding out in one of Leonard’s speakeasies for the evening.

For more Bruce/Bob, Bourbon, and Books, check out our full archive.