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Hunter S. Thompson's Kingdom of Fear is hilarious. That is the first thing to note here. Every page is dripping with the wit and fascinating pespective that makes all of his work so enjoyable to read. It is also a very easy book to get into, handily chopped up into different chapters telling frequently-unrelated stories, but all painting a picture of the author and his life to date.
I originally read this book during the Benidorm summer 2004 trip, and by the end of the week Dave had too, and Rawson took it home with him. This may have been the first time in many years that Iain actually finished a book, or even read some of one that he wasn't required to. That is quite some testimony to just how good of a read this is.
After the foreword and introductory hows-your-fathers, we are into the first chapter. A glorious tale of the perils of youth and how to survive an encounter with the FBI after being questioned over blowing up a mailbox - "never believe the first thing an FBI agent tells you about anything -- especially if them seem to believe you are guilty of a crime" he writes. And this is what the book is all about, it is stories that are fascinating enough to be fabricated jaunts, but so fitting to the personality of the author that you know you're reading about the true life of an extraordinary person - or at least one who has a habit of putting their anecdotes in an extraordinarily interesting light.
The book chronicles most of Thompson's career, but also jumps around a lot; from his work in the San Francisco sex industry, hanging with the Hell's Angels, covering the tempestuous 1968 Democratic Convention in Chicago to running for sheriff in Aspen. Many of the have been mentioned previously in his other work, but never in one collection of personal reflections. It also varies from the strange and almost insane rantings (see: Jesus Hated Bald Pussy, p65) to immediate and serious reactions to events like the September 11th terrorist attacks (see: Where Were You When the Fun Stopped?, p160). Put simply, it does not disappoint.
Written by J. King
I originally read this book during the Benidorm summer 2004 trip, and by the end of the week Dave had too, and Rawson took it home with him. This may have been the first time in many years that Iain actually finished a book, or even read some of one that he wasn't required to. That is quite some testimony to just how good of a read this is.
After the foreword and introductory hows-your-fathers, we are into the first chapter. A glorious tale of the perils of youth and how to survive an encounter with the FBI after being questioned over blowing up a mailbox - "never believe the first thing an FBI agent tells you about anything -- especially if them seem to believe you are guilty of a crime" he writes. And this is what the book is all about, it is stories that are fascinating enough to be fabricated jaunts, but so fitting to the personality of the author that you know you're reading about the true life of an extraordinary person - or at least one who has a habit of putting their anecdotes in an extraordinarily interesting light.
The book chronicles most of Thompson's career, but also jumps around a lot; from his work in the San Francisco sex industry, hanging with the Hell's Angels, covering the tempestuous 1968 Democratic Convention in Chicago to running for sheriff in Aspen. Many of the have been mentioned previously in his other work, but never in one collection of personal reflections. It also varies from the strange and almost insane rantings (see: Jesus Hated Bald Pussy, p65) to immediate and serious reactions to events like the September 11th terrorist attacks (see: Where Were You When the Fun Stopped?, p160). Put simply, it does not disappoint.
Written by J. King