As the 2027 edition appears, The Pocket Wine Book marks 50 years of helping readers choose wine. Its size has grown—from 144 pages in 1977 to 368 today—but its central idea remains the same: a compact, personal guide shaped by informed opinions and a clear sense of what makes a wine worth drinking.
When Hugh Johnson created the first edition, it was a novel kind of reference: practical, concise and unapologetically opinionated. It reflected his own tastes and judgments, and that personal voice remains part of the book’s appeal.
The wine world it describes has changed enormously. The early editions included details that now feel like relics: diagrams of Italian bottle shapes, references to Spanish sparkling wine as “Champaña,” and Kriter, a cheap Burgundy-made sparkling wine that some readers may remember from parties. The book also recorded the typical alcohol levels of wines—figures that make today’s readers wonder how some bottles reached their stated strengths.
Its judgments have changed, too. In 1982, Chevalier-Montrachet received four stars, as it still does today; Chambolle-Musigny has moved from three stars to a range of three to four. Back then, stars were used sparingly and generally applied to appellations rather than individual producers. Bordeaux estates were an exception: Château Latour, awarded four stars, was praised as “usually particularly good value in its class.”
Bordeaux once had a clear claim to its own chapter: its châteaux collectively produced more great wine than any other region. Today, giving Bordeaux a dedicated section while other regions share chapters is less straightforward. Yet combining Bordeaux with the rest of France would make an already substantial chapter larger, while separate chapters for Burgundy and the Rhône would leave an awkward catch-all for the rest.
The book’s growth reflects a deeper shift in how people buy wine. Over time, consumers increasingly turned their attention to producers, not just appellations. That change was especially evident in Burgundy and in regions outside Europe, where the producer often mattered more than the place name. As more producers emerged and winegrowing improved, the guide had to make room for them.
The expanding page counts tell the story. Spain has grown from six pages to 19, Portugal from three to 15, and Australia from four to 16. Austria, once grouped with Central and Southeastern Europe, now has its own chapter. South America, which occupied a single page in 1982, has grown substantially, as have New Zealand and South Africa. England has also developed its coverage, though Hambledon is the only producer still featured from the 1982 edition.
Today, the guide is assembled by 30 contributors, each bringing detailed regional knowledge and strong opinions. Their task is to decide what deserves inclusion, make room for new producers and countries, and describe not just what is good, but why—and how it tastes. The book’s guiding principle remains a preference for balance and elegance, with the experience of the wine in the glass at its heart.
Johnson once described the first edition as “an exercise in crowding angels on a pinhead” and said it was deliberately the shortest book that could hold the information he wanted. That challenge continues. Each edition must fit more wines and regions into a compact guide, while retaining the concise, lively style that made the original distinctive.
The book has not adopted scores, avoiding the inflation that can make ratings less meaningful. It remains independent and opinionated: producers may disagree with its judgments, but those judgments are part of its purpose.
The first edition cited Raoul Clerget et Fils of Beaune, founded in 1270, among the world’s oldest companies. The book that quoted it is no longer published, while the wine merchant still exists. The Pocket Wine Book has not been around quite as long—but, with its 50th anniversary edition, it is still going.