Quite possibly one of the best literary accomplishments by the "Grand Master of Gonzo Journalism," Fear and Loathing is the saga of the quest for the "American Dream" by one man and his Samoan lawyer. It begins with one Raul Duke on the road to Las Vegas to cover a motorcycle race in Las Vegas (imagine that, it takes place in Las Vegas) in a serious drug stupor. Oddly enough, it ends with Herr Duke in Denver in a serious drug stupor.
In the pages in between, he spends all of about five minutes on the race before going off on a killer bender; trashes his hotel room (attained fraudulently), then goes across town and checks into another; attends a National DA’s Conference on Drugs (or something of similar title); proceeds to go on another bender and destroy his second hotel room; horrify a maid named Alice; harass some locals; and skip town after he learns the people from the first hotel are after him.
This review is admittedly watered down almost completely, but it has nothing to do with me being a lazy useless bastard… this time. At least half of the book was followed highly accurately, almost verbatim, by the movie version. The movie however, ends before Thompson – er – I mean Duke skips town on a plane with a carry-on case filled with illegal drugs and a loaded .357 Magnum revolver. Thus I might or might not cover the story in a more detailed way in the movie review. If not, get off your lazy ass and either buy the book or the movie and quit relying on me to blow the storylines for you on everything.
Anyhow, time to rate it and go back to my drinking. If you're looking for some sort of inner truth that could possibly be found at the bottom of a bong, you might be able to find it in a few select scattered passages throughout the book. Mostly though, it's just drug and alcohol fueled insanity, that's quite funny to read and even funnier to watch (if you get ,a href="http://newworldotter.com/reviews/movies/fear-and-loathing-in-las-vegas-the-movie/">the movie). Therefore, for sheer entertainment value, I'm going to award it 7 bottles of rum and a fresh cooked pizza.
There, now that I've once again screened the vast literary wastes for you thankless people, I'm outta here. I'll be back later for the other two Thompson books I'm supposed to read.