Evan Rail, The Absinthe Forger: A True Story of Deception, Betrayal, and the World’s Most Dangerous Spirit (Melville House), 368 pp. Hardback, $32.00.
“If you tasted an absinthe that was supposed to have been made a century or more ago, would you even know what to look for?”
This question drives The Absinthe Forger, as Evan Rail begins to unravel the myths, obsessions, and deceptions surrounding absinthe and the avid collectors who pursue vintage bottles at extraordinary costs. Rail’s exploration of absinthe’s history and its cultural resurgence offers a dive into a world where drink becomes ritual, spirit borders on religion, and fraud is both art and betrayal.
Absinthe, a spirit famously called “The Green Fairy,” has a mystique like few others. Once thought to cause hallucinations and madness, it was banned in many countries at the outset of World War I but has seen a twenty-first-century revival. Even in Las Vegas, the drink has resurfaced in spots like Cleaver, where absinthe frappes transport absintheurs to the Belle Époque, and Caesar’s Palace, where the long-running show Absinthe is an alchemy of adult circus, burlesque, and vaudeville. This reemergence suggests the spirit’s enduring power as a symbol of rebellion.
Rail’s narrative (which began as an article on counterfeit absinthe for VinePair in 2021) is essentially a critique of authenticity. The book draws readers into the “absinthe demimonde,” a “shadowy world” of collectors entranced by the spirit’s mystique. These collectors are after what they see as “pure” absinthe, untouched by modern production, valued almost as a relic. Here, Rail probes a major cultural question: What makes something authentic, and why do we believe in its intrinsic value? The pursuit of “authentic” or “pre-ban” absinthe bottles exemplifies what theorists like Walter Benjamin described as the aura of an artifact, the sense of authenticity that comes from an object’s history, even when that history might be manufactured. Absinthe evokes, or it has been said that it evokes, the era’s associations with art and bohemian life. Rail shows that while these collectors may think they’re drinking “pure history,” their quest may be in fact a collective myth cultivated by experts, forgers, and perhaps their own desire to taste the “real.”
The concept of the “green fairy” itself, absinthe as a mythic, almost sacred drink, shows the tension between the mundane and the spiritual in human desire. Rail’s narrative reveals how devotees see absinthe not merely as a beverage but as a transcendent experience that promises to connect them to a bygone era. For them, absinthe represents something elusive, an emblem of artistic subversion and freedom, harking back to icons like Van Gogh and Baudelaire. Rail uses the image of absinthe to critique this “retro-nostalgia,” showing that the allure of the past often obscures the truth about its real value and even its authenticity.
Rail’s exploration of absinthe’s history and its cultural resurgence offers a dive into a world where drink becomes ritual, spirit borders on religion, and fraud is both art and betrayal.
Rail also reveals the criminality within the spirit underworld. Christian, the mononymous forger at the center of his investigation, is a shadowy figure who disrupts the cultural ideal of the collector’s pursuit of “the real.” Christian would source empty, pre-ban absinthe bottles from antique stores and then bury corks to artificially age them, crafting an illusion of authenticity. To complete the deception, he mixed newly manufactured absinthes with older spirits, manipulating the flavor profile to mimic the distinct taste of genuine pre-ban absinthe, further convincing collectors of his fakes’ authenticity.
The Absinthe Forger diverges sharply from typical crime reporting. Rail is driven not by a thirst for justice or a search for concrete answers but rather by a fascination with the cultural mystique of absinthe and the eccentricities of its devotees. Unlike typical true-crime narratives that fixate on a perpetrator’s psychology or the legal consequences of their actions, Rail’s story unfolds with a reflective tone, attending to what the crime reveals about obsession, authenticity, and community. It is less an exposé and more a cultural inquiry, exploring how far individuals are willing to go to possess a genuine artifact. As one absintheur explains, a fraudster mixing liquids could begin to assume power over what counts as real: “What’s in those vials is whatever they tell them it is.”
The book’s strength as a cultural critique, however, often comes at the expense of its potential as a gripping narrative; readers hoping for the suspense and urgency of true crime may find that the pacing and heavy focus on historical context dilute the immediacy of the forgery story. Rail’s investigations into absinthe culture certainly enrich the book, but his cultural commentary sometimes pushes the crime narrative to the background, which could detract from its cohesion and impact as a high-stakes tale for some readers.
“Absinthism”—the idea that absinthe-induced intoxication is a unique, almost transformative state—is central to the spirit’s identity. But as Rail details, absinthism was largely a constructed myth, fueled by misunderstandings about absinthe’s true chemical properties. He highlights the largely debunked idea of absinthe causing “madness,” showing that this perception was more a cultural invention than a scientific reality. The real danger, it turns out, wasn’t the wormwood extract but merely the high alcohol content; absinthe was often bottled at 144 proof. (For those interested in a more academic study of absinthe’s history, Nina Studer’s The Hour of Absinthe: A Cultural History of France’s Most Notorious Drink provides a comprehensive exploration of the subject.)
The ritualistic aspects of absinthe consumption—the delicate preparation, the specialized spoons, the careful mixing over sugar—signal its role in generating a semi-sacred experience. This ritual, Rail argues, mirrors religious practices, suggesting that for some collectors, drinking absinthe is akin to a secular communion. Through this lens, Rail illustrates how absinthe functions as a symbol within a collective imaginary, akin to the objects described by cultural theorists who view material culture as a site of identity formation. The modern absinthe ritual evokes nostalgia for a time when art and life were more intertwined, feeding into a craving for meaningful, almost sacred experiences in a world that often feels devoid of them.
Rail’s tone is measured but incisive; he refrains from prescribing judgment. Instead, he observes how collectors’ devotion to absinthe intertwines with broader cultural phenomena, such as the desire to transcend one’s time and place. Rail’s book thus resonates with the spirit of cultural theory, offering a thoughtful exploration of how the myths we construct around objects like absinthe reflect deeper human desires for meaning, connection, and escape.
Las Vegas Review of Books 