Hunter S. Thompson (1937–2005)

First off, it's a very funny book. The humor is very much drug humor of the mostly surrealist sort; I don't partake of the substances myself but hearing Hunter's opinions on them doesn't bother me.
The bigger part of this book, however, and I'm not sure if he even knew this was his theme when he was writing it or made the claim afterward, is that this is very much a novel about the societal-level coming-to-terms of the fact that America's bright future, the future everyone in the show more counterculture thought that maybe we would reach, was codswallop. World just keeps getting worse.
I wasn't alive in Hunter's time, but I feel like I get where he was coming from - I thought the world was going to be a better place than it was, too - then 9/11 happened, and US politics has been an accelerating decline into right-wing reactionary insanity since. We can't have nice things. I get it, Hunter, thank you for putting it into words, even if the words were describing a different hope and a different era. show less

I read this on a long aeroplane flight and embarrassed myself by being one of those annoying people who laughs uncontrollably at an unshared joke amongst a crowd of sombre considerate people. Trying to keep the laughter inside just caused me to curl up and giggle insanely until the tears ran down my face. Drug culture - I don't approve. Non-payment of hotel bills - I also don't approve. Wrecking of rental cars - similarly bad. I imagine that if Thompson was genuinely anything like the show more character portrayed in his small book, I wouldn't have liked him. But I defy anyone to read this book without laughing their head off their shoulders. show less

Hell’s Angels begins: California, Labor Day weekend . . . early, with ocean fog still in the streets, outlaw motorcyclists wearing chains, shades and greasy Levis roll out from damp garages, all-night diners and cast-off one-night pads in Frisco, Hollywood, Berdoo and East Oakland, heading for the Monterey peninsula, north of Big Sur… The Menace is loose again, the Hell’s Angels, the hundred-carat headline… With a start like that how could you help but be hooked? This is Hunter show more before Gonzo.

Hunter Thompson’s Hell’s Angels is a fantastically written profile of the outlaw motorcycle club from their postwar origins to their explosion on the public conscious in ’64-’65. It begins with the Angels gaining nation-wide attention via a fumbled rape trial and follows the surreal path that led to their interactions and then clashes with Ken Kesey and the counter-culture movement.

Hunter takes an odd stance here. He seems to oscillate between respecting their rebelliousness and really looking down on them as worthless losers. This sort of Yin-Yang of the Hell's Angels follows through the book. They are both repellent and attractive and Hunter does a very good job of sussing out why this is in writing that is compelling and often brilliant. Liberally sprinkled with quotes of contemporary articles, song lyrics and scraps of poetry that fit into the text without distracting.

Hell's Angels is a gritty, classic slice of reportage that manages to entertain in the way good fiction entertains with a gripping narrative and larger-than-life characters. show less

This book was written roughly a decade before I was even born. Each generation supposedly falls into a pattern of trying to top the last one, everyone getting ever more outrageous and shocking with each year. But as I closed the back cover of "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas," all I could think is that it's hard to imagine any generation topping Thompson's story of drug-fueled depravity. Assuming it's at least mostly true, of course.

I also can't imagine that if such depravity were reached or show more exceeded by others it could be more succinctly and powerfully captured than this. Under other circumstances a lesser writer would/could not have written a book in which vomiting, paranoia, and grapefruit figured so heavily into the tale while yet still being so captivating that it could be considered beautiful.

It's odd to say, but Fear and Loathing had me yearning to find for myself a lifestyle so full of urgency and passion as the characters within -- even if, like the characters themselves, that passion is for self-destruction and nothing resembling dignity or nobility. Writing that can do that takes two things: balls and talent. A brutally fun book. show less