Forget point systems and stuffy critics: Since 2004, the most powerful wine people in Asia are… comic book writers. Brother-and-sister duo Shin and Yuko Kibayashi turn wine-writing into an adventure with their weekly comic, Drops of God. In their world, wine drinkers are either good or evil, depending on how they approach the divine juice, and blind tastings can pit brother against brother in an epic struggle to win the family fortune. It’s goofy, it’s thrilling, it’s educational, and it’s changing the entire industry and culture of wine in Japan and beyond.
Through the dramas of their wine-drinking characters, the Kibayashis instruct readers on how to taste wine. It’s hilarious, for sure, when a young woman swoons over a man’s decanting skills, but it’s also a great way to draw attention to the technical proficiency of a beautiful pour without getting too technical. And that’s what’s truly extraordinary about Drops of God: It makes learning about wine—which, let’s face it, can be a totally tedious thing for the non-obsessed—really fun.
The hero, Shizuku, is a wine newbie who works as a beer rep for a Japanese drinks importer. When Shizuku’s famous wine-critic father dies and leaves behind a priceless collection, Shizuku must compete for his inheritance in a 12-part puzzle, which he plays against his adopted brother, a despicable young wine critic. Seriously, this is juicy stuff!
Like all great tales, it’s a battle between good and evil. Good guys see wine as pleasure, something to be shared. (A homeless man is one of the city’s most charming underground wine gurus—literally, he keeps valuable bottles buried in secret spots around the park.) Bad guys, on the other hand, see wine as mere business. A transaction. Sure, they can recognize the terroir and rattle on about vintages like they’re plugged into a database, but the experience is empty. In one scene, while Shizuku is tasting wine and laughing with friends, his rival stands alone in an apartment with a dozen open bottles and a packet of notes. It’s lonely being evil.
That’s not to say that the Kibayashis are blind to the business of wine. They’ve practically remade it, in fact. The series has sold millions of copies worldwide and been translated to Taiwanese, Korean and even French. Next month, the series will be available in English from Vertical Inc. The comic’s popularity has placed the Kibayashis among the most powerful people in wine today: They bumped up wine sales in Japan by 130 percent in their first year of publication, even inspiring wine stores to feature Drops of God-themed displays. And the Kibayashis turned obscure bottles they loved into famous collector’s items just by name-dropping them. After Jean-Pierre Amoreau, the silver-haired owner of little Château le Puy, appeared in the series, the French winemaker’s 2003 Bordeaux went from having a $25 price tag to auctioning for well over $1,000, thanks to fanatic readers who build their collections around the Kibayashis’ weekly picks.
images courtesy Tadashi Agi and Shu Okimoto ©2011
But in the end, regardless of what it does for your favorite Château, the power of Drops of God is its honest, thoughtful appreciation of wine. Take Shizuku’s first lesson. As Drops of God opens, Shizuku knows nothing about varietals, vintages or regions. He's never even tasted a glass of wine. But he’s breathed in the leather of his father’s belt, the steam from green tea brewing in the kitchen. He’s savored the pop of a ripe raspberry and the smell of pencil shavings in his elementary school classroom. Shizuku's catalog of everyday scents become reference points as he begins to drink. The notes help him describe flavors and smells in a way that’s incredibly personal but somehow makes sense—one wine is like the powerful, sweet rush of Freddy Mercury’s voice, another smells of strawberry jam on dark toast. And like all good heroes, Shizuku follows his heart. Forget all that other crap, he reminds us: You can never go wrong if you drink what you love.
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