Warped Speed: Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas

Hunter Thompson, like TC Boyle, is one of the authors whose persona put me off reading their books. Maybe it was the manifestation of the old Catholic warning of near occasions of sin -- expecting the content to need a Legion of Decency rating. But, of course, now that I "a-tempted" TC, I avidly read anything he puts on paper. Is it the same for me with Thompson? Alas, no.

However, I liked F&L/LV more than I ever expected. Thompson's sense of satire remains after all his other senses are obliterated by mind-altering substances. It is way at the other end of the drug world spectrum from Breakfast in Babylon: here, there is no desperation to get the money to pay for the next hit and the characters live in grand hotel suites, not abandoned buildings. Thompson has even less interest in supporting characters than does Martin. He/Duke is center stage and all is viewed through his over-dilated eyes. The hitchhiker and the girl picked up by his attorney on the plane are just targets for Duke's satiric barbs, too stunned (or stoned) to engage in banter.

The only other character of note is Duke's Samoan attorney who rather than being an insightful Sancho Panza, is more like a gym weight spotter, watching Duke consume vast quantities of illegal substances, encouraging him to do more. Any dialogue is superficial.

F&L/LV is not picaresque. I am beginning to believe that whomever coded the books I put on the 2010 list as this genre decided that any book with escapades involving booze, sex, drugs, and arrests qualified. It is a memoir, a You Tube like short clip of a trip to Nevada, perhaps an advertisement for "what happens in Vegas, etc." But the real trip and all the events take place in Duke's head. Despite his assignments, it appears that he never actually covers nor submits articles for the motorcycle race or police conference. Rather these externals only become anchors for the story, to place it in time and location.

The pace of the short story moves along at hyper-speed (as opposed to the lethargic tempo of Breakfast in Babylon). Thompson is an author that can convey that rush, but it is a race to the last page without an ending.