Hunter S. Thompson – Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas (thirteen)

I finally read it. But it’s always delicate reading a book when you’ve seen the movie. In this case however, they are just two very similar shades of Day-Glo red. The book is, contrary to my expectations (man, always this guy with his expectations), was a quite easy read, 200 pages and more beautiful writing and less crazy rambling than I suspected.
The story tells of how the reporter Raoul Duke, a doctor of journalism and a driven narcotics abuser, goes to Vegas for some freelance work. Together with his equally bizarre sidekick, his Samoan lawyer, he plunges headfirst into a pool of illicit substances and anti-social behavior, trying intently to hit bottom in search of the American Dream. The understated humor and insanity push the story beyond autobiography; it’s a cartoonesque distortion of something truly horrible, with an end result that is just fascinating.
The strength of the novel lies in the main character and his complete disregard for rules, common sense and consensus. In his stumbling journey, his harmlessness and keen sense of observation reminds me more of a David Attenborough, going with a machete through his own inner jungle, marveling at every creature and lifting every stone, than of a dangerous drug addict, threatening some stale mate called Our Life Style.
And, as the narrative in the movie suggests, the wordings, the writing, is very beautiful and clever and intense.
The only disappointment I had, making the transition from picture to paper, was that two of my favorite narrative quotes where nowhere to be found. Therefore I leave you with them:
About his partner, the lawyer Raoul says: “One of God’s own prototypes, never meant for mass production; too weird to live and too rare to die.”
And during a confrontation with the same, Duke exclaims: “Don’t fuck with me now! I am Ahab.”