'We were somewhere around Barstow on the edge of the desert when the drugs began to take hold. I remember saying something like, "I feel a bit lightheaded; maybe you should drive ..."'
Hunter S. Thompson is roaring down the desert highway to Las Vegas with his attorney, the Samoan, to find the dark side of the American Dream. Armed with a drug arsenal of stupendous proportions, the duo engage in a surreal succession of chemically enhanced confrontations with casino operators, police officers and assorted Middle Americans.
This stylish reissue of Hunter S. Thompson's iconic masterpiece, a controversial bestseller when it appeared in 1971, features the brilliant Ralph Steadman illustrations of the original. It brings to a new generation the hallucinatory humour and nightmare terror of Hunter S. Thompson's musings on the collapse of the American Dream.
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We were somewhere around Barstow on the edge of the desert when the drugs began to take hold. PART ONE
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(@HarperPerennial, 4 April 2005, ebook, 91 pages, borrowed from @AmazonKindle, #PrimeReading)
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Boy, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas is a rancid turd. I've never seen the movie and now I know why. I've heard Hunter S. Thompson spoken about in revered tones like he is some kind of God. If this is typical of his work I have no idea why. So in this book the author (this is a fictionalised account of a true event) and his lawyer take loads of drugs and drive about as if they are cool hipster gods when they're just a pathetic waste of space. A book about two wastrels getting wasted and pretending they are cool is of no interest to me. Utter tosh! I really don't see the point of this nonsense.
