Alex Vitlin slays it:
In saying something as cringe-inducingly aspirational as "vignettes on life", I want to make clear that there is not a single moment of the pushy, small-town philosophising that such a phrase might entail. These are honest renditions, studiously written; of bone-crushing solitudes, of minor victories, of banalities and hands grasping glass cups of salvation. Each entry has a particular pub as a locus for its wanderings, though knowing the pub isn't necessary - they're more pub as muse.
And I am crying into my beer. Buy the print version and keep James drinking for another year. Or two.