A masterpiece of madness. . .
Hunter S. Thompson’s Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas is a strange book but there is fascination, too, in the strangeness. It has been regarded as a classic which in my opinion there is substance to support this, but I would have chosen to describe the book as a masterpiece of madness. It is similar to Charles Bukowski’s Post Office in the nature that there is no suppressing and restrainment on the flow of the human mind. It is a novel that is not particularly for the faint of heart, but I believe that adds to the beauty of it.
The notable and notorious drug consumption scattered across the pages is more or less what the plot revolves around. An amusing part reality, part fantasy tale of a journalist and his attorney who head out to Las Vegas to report on a motorcycle race but instead shift their focus on LSD and coke and all the shit that was in the suitcase they brought with them. Still, it is not without substance. There is an almost macabre humor lining the pages as well, as Raoul Duke our narrator has a mind full of snark and wit as well as a wandering into various substances. Occasionally, it is difficult to decipher if some of his thoughts are meant to be humorous or crude and cruel or perhaps the greater possibility of both. Of course, it does not help that Duke is under the influence for a majority of the book - however, it does not take away from the plot. In fact, one may say the drugs are the driving force behind the plot.
Naturally, Raoul Duke and his attorney Dr. Gonzo get into some trouble, creating a path of destruction that seems at home in a place like Las Vegas - seems they belong to Vegas, and Vegas belongs to them, the reckless madmen. Wrecked hotel rooms, hangovers, and womanizing sound like the stereotypes of rock stars, but this writer and his attorney are no strangers to such subjects. I do not have experience with drugs so I cannot attest to the accuracy of the descriptions, but it does not hold back regarding the madness. They hallucinate and abuse, but it seems to be forgotten the next day due to the normalcy and naturally they indulge again the next day.
There is a strange kind of beauty present: the famous ‘Wave speech’ details the end of the 1960s and evokes nostalgia and raw, pure human emotion. It is a magnificent piece of writing, full of hope and despair and thousands of emotions shoehorned between. It is almost funny how such a beautiful piece of writing is found in the pages of a book where the main characters indulge in all the drugs they can get into their system, but it is not out of place. It is truly a strange but beautiful book.
Hunter S. Thompson is no stranger to strangeness, and this novel is a freewheeling exhibition. Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas is a peculiar, hazy, wonderful book riddled and fused with various substances, profanity, and it is certainly a trip. . . It is addicting in the strangeness, and I believe most of the character and charm came from the time it was written in 1971. An interesting portrayal and picture of the times where writers did not hold back in their art and let it shine throughout and across the universe, even if it comes off as a strange snapshot that really ought to be regarded as a proper masterpiece in madness and beauty alike.
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