Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
A Savage Journey to the Heart of the American DreamBook - 1998 | Second Vintage Books Edition.
From the critics
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[FEAR AND LOATHING] chronicles how many elicit drugs a man can pump into his system and still function . . .
We had two bags of grass, seventy-five pellets of mescaline, five sheets of high-powered blotter acid, a saltshaker half-full of cocaine, and a whole galaxy of multi-colored uppers, downers, laughers, screamers... Also, a quart of tequila, a quart of rum, a case of beer, a pint of raw ether, and two dozen amyls. Not that we needed all that for the trip, but once you get into locked a serious drug collection, the tendency is to push it as far as you can.
You can turn your back on a person, but, never turn your back on a drug. Especially when it's waving a razor-sharp hunting knife in your eye
We were somewhere around Barstow on the edge of the desert when the drugs began to take hold. I remember saying something like "I feel a bit lightheaded; maybe you should drive...." And suddenly there was a terrible roar all around us and the sky was full of what looked like huge bats, all swooping and screeching and diving around the car, which was going about a hundred miles an hour with the top down to Las Vegas.
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FEAR AND LOATHING IN LAS VEGAS (Warner Books, $3.95) is highly entertaining, wildly psychedelic and a damn good piece of work. It's the Grateful Dead on a gambling junket. With groovy illustrations by Ralph Steadman, it chronicles how many elicit drugs a man can pump into his system and still function ("function", liberally applied). Far from the mindless ramblings one might expect from such an account, it's imbued with Thompson's unique philosophies on life, auto racing and cops.
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