Why novelist Chang-rae Lee buys his wine online.

In recent years, like a lot of people, I've been buying more of my wine online. Frankly, I feel guilty about it, for I abhor living too much in the techno-cave, with all these meager, glowing implements; I love a lively fire in the hearth and snuggling in beside my sweet-smelling wife and drinking wine so tasty that it makes me think I can sing. Who wants to make virtual any of this life's pleasures? Really, nobody.

Yet we all do: We surf the Net for reasons of convenience, efficiency, and frugality, which are mostly commendable things. And we're bypassing even the minor pleasure of buying things in person?books, music, and (most irking to me) wine. The picture I would prefer to hold of myself is the fellow who faithfully patronizes (perhaps plagues?) the local wine shops rather than browses some brightly arrayed screen. Maybe you know the type: the oeno-pest who's in the store every Friday afternoon (does he have a job?) studying the labels like a cryptologist or chatting with the staff about a producer's vinification methods or a Piedmont vintage's weather. To be sure, I'd rather be there in person, discussing a wine's qualities with an enthusiastic merchant rather than passively scrolling through professional tasting notes. And I believe in the importance of neighborhood proprietors (whether they sell wine or house paint) to a vital, thriving community; they're the hubs of the real social network.

Yet sometimes, I simply can't deal. Maybe I've been writing all day, and my head feels as though it's been pummeled, and I can't quite bear someone hovering. Or an unfamiliar salesperson will descend and push a wine because it just received "a monster Parker rating." Or, perhaps worst of all, a normally trusty staffer will excitedly suggest a bottle, and when I taste it, I'm sorely disappointed; I'll be loath to go back and have an awkward, fitful conversation, its implication being, "No offense, but I despised that wine you dearly love." Things can quickly get too personal, especially in matters of taste. I enjoy delicate, mature wines exponentially more than their youthful, exuberant versions, and online retailers tend to have a wider selection of older wine, while most brick- and-mortar shops only have enough room to carry the latest vintages.

So I'll sit at my desk and search. I'll click around the Web for the best price and a clue to the quality of the retailer's storage facilities, wondering whether the real-life operations are as tech-cool or retro-dusty as their sites. I enjoy browsing the nerdier ones, like North Berkeley Wine and the Rare Wine Co., which provide their own blogs or even photos of staffers' tasting trips, essentially offering a wider experience of what it means to engage with a wine.

You can see that I'm more than a bit conflicted, that my opposing urges have me wanting a connection that's substantive and helpful, yet one I can keep at a comfortably virtual distance. But unlike the online buying of other taste-dependent products (say, novels), in wine cyberspace you can, if you look, find people to query and hear their commentary, getting both knowledge and personality without the trouble of putting someone off (or being put off yourself). And so inevitably, during my searches, I find myself wondering who is working behind the screen in Florida or Missouri. It turns out that I want to peek behind the digital curtain. I want to hear a human voice.

So I'll call, say, under the pretext of a question about shipping, but then I'll ask about other vintages of the wine I'm interested in, hoping that the person I'm talking to (a salesperson or maybe even the owner?I've found many of the retailers to be smallish, partner-run operations) is knowledgeable and willing to chat, just like in my local store. They're often game for conversation, so I'll ask for other recommendations, each of us sharing what we've recently enjoyed, probing the other for clues to preferred styles, tastes.

Novelist Chang-rae Lee loves nothing more than hanging out in his local wine shop, but he finds some of his best deals on the Internet. His secret: He's befriended his e-tailer.

Source: http://feeds.slate.com/click.phdo?i=1981585b92e65c83333e18c8673baac8

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