In Dave Broom’s capable hands, A Sense of Place: A Journey Around Scotland’s Whiskey is an intimate and compelling mosaic of Scotland’s past and present through the lens of the people and places that form the bedrock of Scotch Whiskey. A Sense of Place is not a compilation of tasting notes or a recycled narrative of Scotch history – Broom himself says, this is “a drive through the side roads.” Using whiskey as his fulcrum, Broom leverages his exquisite knowledge of the subject to describe the interplay between Scotland’s distilleries, geography, and whiskey-making communities. It feels as though Broom, himself, is taking the reader on a contemplative and personal walk through the Scottish countryside pointing out nuanced elements and drawing linkages that a commercial tour would skip over.
A Sense of Place delves into the anthropology, archeology, economics, sociology, and Philosophy of the Scotch Whiskey industry. At times, it is easy to forget this is a book about whiskey until, like a Georges Seurat painting, you step back and appreciate the full picture: it is all about whiskey. A Sense of Place is beautiful and approachable, and what Broom has done in this book is remarkably original. It is a seamless weaving of multiple stories and threads that come together to create a deeper understanding of the influence of whiskey in contemporary Scotland, and is an essential reading for the enthusiast looking for a more intricate perspective on the subject matter.
Broom’s division of the book is intuitive, thoughtful, and necessary to keep things organized. Starting in Orkney, he moves into the North East, Speyside, the Peninsula, the Hebrides, and Islay, tackling the topic of Scottish oak in two chapters, and blended whiskey. Each chapter is generally tied to one or two distilleries, and Broom relies on his conversations with the people closest to the industry to tell the story in their own words. This format works well and gives Broom room to work with the other colors in his palate to pull together the social history of whiskey. Wisely, he does not get bogged down in lists of brands and uses one or two to pivot on with the narrative.
I’ll admit, in chapter one when Broom started talking about Orkney’s Neolithic past and midden piles, a term I had not heard since university, I was a bit curious where things were going. But then as he brings in a discussion of the use of Bere, an ancient barley strain, and the origins of peat on the island, it made sense, and how this all tied into Highland Park and its use of Viking imagery. Once you get a sense of Broom’s rhythm, it primes you for future chapters, such as his exploration of related industries (cooperages, farmers, etc.) in Speyside and how they work in parallel with the distilleries — and how their fates are connected.
When we arrive at the Peninsula, Broom draws on the experiences of the fisherman and boat makers, in tandem with sustainability. He talks about how block chain is impacting whiskey supply chains, posing some broader questions about the industry concerning the preservation of tradition and the march of progress. In the Hebrides, he describes the emergence of bioregionalism and its relationship with economic revitalization — and, crucially, how to get youth invested in their communities. His discussion of Scottish oak, in much the same way, talks about the terroir of trees and the future of Scottish oak in whiskey maturation.
Broom’s description of people and places being like threads that form knots, and how Scotland’s whiskey landscape is in the process of re-tying those knots. As Broom brilliantly lays out throughout the book, distillers will need to work with communities to be successful. A Sense of Place is subtle, gorgeous, and fills a much needed niche in library of whiskeyliterature.
