Steven Kent Mirassou. Lineage. Val de Grâce, 2021.

Lineage shares the author’s life in the California wine business. He is a sixth generation vintner. His first French ancestors began growing wine grapes in California in the mid-1850s. Thanks to the film Sideways, there has been a growing interest in California wines—though Mirassou would say it began in 1976 when a California wine won top honors a prestigious Parisian wine tasting.

Mirassou has worked and lived in the Livermore Valley, due east of San Francisco Bay, and not as well known for wine as the Napa and Sonoma Valleys. It is striking that the same vineyard in California can have grapes growing at an elevation of nearly a thousand feet higher than other vines in the same field. We learn that elevation and soil as well as more obvious things like weather and grape variety all contribute to the distinct flavors of individual wines.

Lineage is a collection of essays on winemaking and life among winemakers with some family stories inserted. There is no specific order to the essays except for perhaps a slight chronological arrangement. For example, we read about the death of the author’s first wife before we meet his current wife. The focus, however, is on the grapes and the wine.

Even here the chronology is slight. We are told about varieties of grapes, and especially the sensitivity—even guesswork—that goes into deciding which pomaces are going to be used or blended for which type of wines. Mirassou tries to explain it to us, but it sounds like, as they say, “you have to be there.” Readers can only get a vague idea of the scents and flavors that the author tries to describe to us.

We learn a lot about the various things that go into making good wine. It seems the author’s best product is Cabernet Franc, but he also makes many other varieties including some sparkling wines. While he oversees much of the winemaking process, he also spends a significant part of the year on the road selling his product to stores and distributors.

We get a sense of the complicated business of winemaking. The family many years ago sold the rights to the name Mirassou. This reminded me of something I recall from my youth. My father liked Taylor wines from upstate New York. At some point the Taylor family sold the rights to the name to a larger company. The Taylors could not even use their own name for wine they still produced!

It may also be a little hard for the reader to follow the ins and outs of who owns what vineyard. One family vineyard that had been worked for generations was sold by some cousins for building lots. Towards the end of the book the author himself has to leave the vineyard where he had worked with his family for a number of years.

Lineage is tied to the earth just as grape vines are. In a few spots the author’s language may be earthier than some readers would appreciate, but winemaking like breeding is a natural process. As suggested by the title, the vines, the wine, the earth itself, go on like Ecclesiastes from generation to generation. Mirassou is surprised and delighted when his son takes an interest in the family business. It becomes clear that the lineage will continue.

The author also notes that wine is so much a part of special events. If I recall correctly, the last time I imbibed was at a wedding about four years ago. But I also understand how what the rabbis called “the blood of the grape” features not only in marriages but in other covenant relationships all over the world. Yes, the Bible tells us God began his covenant relationship with Abraham when the priest Melchizedek gave him bread and wine. So the Chinese classic The Romance of the Three Kingdoms begins with an oath sworn over a cup of wine. In some ways, this is nearly universal. Yes, there is a lineage to this as well.

The author mentions at least two lines of wine that he sells. One is called Steven Kent for obvious reasons. The other he has called Lineage, like the title of the book.

The book has a great visual appeal. Its two-tone black and white cover, its size and thickness, its semi-glossy pages, and the artistic black and white photos throughout the volume suggest a yearbook. It does contain many memories. It contains a few episodes and many observations.

Because of its visual appeal, I could not help think of a stage direction from Stoppard’s Arcadia: “a handsome thick quarto, brand new, a vanity production…” It is gorgeous, if the language in places gets a bit florid. I ask myself was the title chosen because of the slight sense of history in the book or because it promotes his latest line? To be honest, this reviewer rarely drinks. Perhaps someone who knows more about wine would have a better idea of an answer, but we all can learn something about C.S. Lewis called the miracle of grapes becoming wine.