From Publishers Weekly
"The years that were covered in these letters," says Thompson, "were like riding on a bullet train... with no sleep and no wires to hang on to." Apparently he hung onto his typewriter, though, churning out not only his drugged-up, wigged-out road book Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas and similarly outrageous articles for Rolling Stone but also for letter after lengthy letter, in the same white-hot, turbo-charged style. Thompson altered permanently the nature of political journalism by injecting into his reportage the personal and the pathological, and this second volume of letters reads like rehearsals for his more public utterances, almost every page ringing with the sound of gunfire, revving motorcycle engines and partying that began at a level where most partying ends. What may surprise readers is the sweetness of much of the writing. While Thompson's correspondents include a virtual who's who of the era, from Tom Wolfe and Kurt Vonnegut to Jimmy Carter and George McGovern, he wrote to his fans like a kind if slightly deranged uncle, trying to convince one not to join the Hell's Angels, offering a second help with her term paper. Despite the occasional lollipop, however, Thompson's strong suit is still invective, of which he remains the unsurpassed master. It's been 30 years since his series of sulfurous missives to a local Colorado TV station for showing only "the cheapest, meanest swill" and to mail-order companies that dared send the journalist from hell what he deemed shabby merchandise, but surely Thompson's name still provokes shudders at the Alaska Sleeping Bag Company and elsewhere. B&w photos. (Dec. 13)
Copyright 2000 Reed Business Information, Inc.
--This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.
The earlier volume of Thompson letters,
The Proud Highway (1997), surprised many readers with its revealing glimpses into the making of a notorious journalist; moreover, those letters did not disappoint for they are as audacious as their author. With this second of a planned three-volume set of letters, the original gonzo journalist's "testament to his life and times" covers the period in which Thompson's seminal pieces were published or, at least, well into the making. During this period, Thompson was reporting on the political scene for
Rolling Stone , which would yield his highly original road book,
Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas (1972); falling deeper into politics and increasing his knowledge of that world, which he pulled together for
Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail ; and running his own crazy political race for sheriff in Aspen, Colorado, where, as publicity has it, he still lives in a "fortified compound" (shades of Garry Trudeau's Duke in his
Doonesbury comic strip; incidentally, readers discover letters here, too, that reveal that at one point Thompson considered suing Trudeau for libel). Often the correspondence is so eventful that it impresses one as being fictitious, as with the letters between Thompson and Oscar Zeta Acosta, the Chicano activist/lawyer and model for Thompson's 300-pound Samoan attorney, Dr. Gonzo, in
Las Vegas . And then there are the painful letters between writer and publisher, particularly Jann Wenner of
Rolling Stone and Jim Silberman of Random House, that trace the hard road many original writers travel to merely survive. The cast of characters is impressive, politicians such as Gary Hart and George McGovern, friends and colleagues such as cartoonist Ralph Steadman and writer William Kennedy. Summarily, Hunter's life and times are our life and times, and, oh, how wicked we've been.
Bonnie SmothersCopyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved
--This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.
