Shadows in the Vineyard is the “true story of a plot to poison the world’s greatest wine.” The author, Maximillian Potter, initially covered the story for Vanity Fair in May 2011. In his book, he digs deeper into the crime and peels back the personalities surrounding the attack on the vineyards of Romanée-Conti in 2010. It debuted today and is available at Barnes and Noble.

As I read, I found myself feeling almost guilty. I tend to choose books that cause a little struggle — they’re satisfying, yet not always pleasurable. Shadows in the Vineyard is not that kind of book. It’s admittedly easy to read and, for wine lovers and novices alike, a way to soak in Burgundy through another appreciative discoverer’s point of view. Turning the pages, I noticed that I was loosely involved in the drama of the contemporary crime, and I more wanted to hear how the pieces of history fit together, framed by the book’s romantic narrative.

Feeling that same allure, Potter explained to me, “Crime is what took me to Burgundy. The poetry is what brought me back.”

He’d first heard rumors about the crime on a trip to Napa in the summer of 2010, traveling with his wife and a good friend from undergrad, who had just started making wine in the area. At the time, Max couldn’t tell a Burgundy from a Bordeaux, and frankly didn’t care. However, after touring wine country, he started noticing that all the stories were the same – good people, making wine, and lots of passion. He had spent the last 20 years writing about topics that weren’t always fun to cover and was feeling burnt out, losing faith in humanity. He thought, “I have to find a way to profile these folks. This stuff will be my Prozac!”

His friend gave him the perfect lead: a rumor that someone had poisoned or tried to poison the wines of the most revered vineyard in the world, Domaine de la Romanée-Conti.

The resulting article and book are, in my opinion, remarkable in that they reveal not just the vulnerability of DRC itself, but really the vulnerability of the people and the culture of Burgundy. Burgundy is a place of subtlety, nuance, and quiet introspection. The wines and the place are beautiful, but what make it magical is what’s below the surface: the terroir, the complexity, the community, the history.

Through his immersive reporting, Potter gives us a privileged look at today’s Burgundy, specifically through the DRC. I talked to Max about his research and working with Aubert de Villaine. Not surprisingly, Aubert wanted no part in cooperating at the beginning.

His two main concerns were that revealing the crime would entice copycats and secondly, that a story about what had just happened would give short shrift to the historical significance of the Domaine, Burgundy, and the culture.

However, the larger service of demystifying rumors of the crime won out and Potter was committed to telling readers, not just about the crime, but about the surrounding meaning and history. Potter spent the better part of 1.5 years in Burgundy, observing and learning. He spoke with the typically taciturn Mr. de Villaine about religion, poetry, history, wine, why he doesn’t let employees see him nervous, and how he would have loved to be a poet.

The book’s chapters alternate between these stories of Aubert, along with the unfolding of the crime, and the fabled history of the property. Readers are taken through the life of Aubert’s grandfather, the Judgment of Paris, death in the de Villaine family, and Aubert’s experiences working the vineyards in California. The book then shifts to the antics of the Prince de Conti in the 1700s, the genesis of phylloxera in Burgundy, and the sad story of the perpetrators of the crime against DRC.

Yes, the book at times does lean toward dramatic with borderline histrionic prose. And, yes, the portrayals of Aubert de Villaine are heroic and grandiose. But I agree with Potter: it’s a narrative and the reader is better served by well-informed storytelling than a distant regurgitation of facts.

When I asked Max for his thoughts on the critique that: “Less than half the book actually addresses this amateurish crime. The remainder is essentially an ode to Burgundy wine and to Mr. de Villaine,” he replied, “An Ode to Burgundy? Hell yeah it is.”