The book is in the zonked, street composing custom of Jack Kerouac, yet it comes up short on Kerouac’s draining sentiments. On the contrary some hip incongruities and a few clever scenes, Thompson’s reality is cold. Individuals never become more than the one-colored drawings by Ralph Steadman which enliven the book. Falling flat or unfit to get underneath what he sees, Thompson is one more transporter of reporting’s present typhus: he transmits surface portrayal as examination. At the point when you can’t see, depict.
He is best at giving a couple of reasonable medication culture bits of knowledge (his unique strategic Vegas was a magazine task to cover an auto race and a police tranquilize meeting, which he and his Samoan lawyer do by figuring out how to keep up a perpetual high on mescaline, amyl, corrosive, cocaine, screamers, laughers, and so forth.). He takes note of that the police are squandering lucrative LSD films, “when corrosive is broadly known—to everyone except cops—to be the Studebaker of the medication advertise.” He says, “the large market, nowadays, is in Downers. Reds and smack—seconal and heroin—and a hellbroth of terrible local grass showered including arsenic to horse sedatives. What sells, today is whatever Fucks You Up—whatever shortcircuits your mind and grounds it out for the longest conceivable time.”
The whole book and also the film released based on the book have quite influential Fear And Loathing In Las Vegas quotes, which you might check them out.
Fear And Loathing In Las Vegas
- “We were somewhere around Barstow on the edge of the desert when the drugs begin to take hold. “
- ” No sympathy for the devil; keep that in mind. Buy the ticket, take the ride…and if it occasionally gets a little heavier than what you had in mind, well…maybe chalk it up to forced consciousness expansion: Tune in, freak out, get beaten. ” ― Hunter S. Thompson,
- “We had two bags of grass, seventy-five pellets of mescaline, five sheets of high powered blotter acid, a salt shaker half-full of cocaine, and a whole galaxy of multi-colored uppers, downers, screamers, laughers… and also a quart of tequila, a quart of rum, a case of Budweiser, a pint of raw ether and two dozen amyls. Not that we needed all that for the trip, but once you get locked into a serious drug collection, the tendency is to push it as far as you can. ”
- “Strange memories on this nervous night in Las Vegas. Five years later? Six? It seems like a lifetime, or at least a Main Era—the kind of peak that never comes again. San Francisco in the middle sixties was a very special time and place to be a part of. Maybe it meant something. Maybe not, in the long run . . . but no explanation, no mix of words or music or memories can touch that sense of knowing that you were there and alive in that corner of time and the world. Whatever it meant. . . . “
- “My central memory of that time seems to hang on one or five or maybe forty nights—or very early mornings—when I left the Fillmore half-crazy and, instead of going home, aimed the big 650 Lightning across the Bay Bridge at a hundred miles an hour wearing L. L. Bean shorts and a Butte sheepherder’s jacket . . . booming through the Treasure Island tunnel at the lights of Oakland and Berkeley and Richmond, not quite sure which turn-off to take when I got to the other end (always stalling at the toll-gate, too twisted to find neutral while I fumbled for change) . . . but being absolutely certain that no matter which way I went I would come to a place where people were just as high and wild as I was: No doubt at all about that. . . . “
- “The Circus-Circus is what the whole hep world would be doing on Saturday night if the Nazis had won the war.”
- “Ignore that nightmare in the bathroom. Just another ugly refugee from the love generation.”
- “The press is a gang of cruel faggots. Journalism is not a profession or a trade. It is a cheap catch-all for fuckoffs and misfits—a false doorway to the backside of life, a filthy piss-ridden little hole nailed off by the building inspector, but just deep enough for a wino to curl up from the sidewalk and masturbate like a chimp in a zoo-cage.”
- “Hallucinations are bad enough. But after a while you learn to cope with things like seeing your dead grandmother crawling up your leg with a knife in her teeth. Most acid fanciers can handle this sort of thing. But nobody can handle that other trip-the possibility that any freak with $1.98 can walk into the Circus-Circus and suddenly appear in the sky over downtown Las Vegas twelve times the size of God, howling anything that comes into his head. No, this is not a good town for psychedelic drugs.”
- “I’m a relatively respectable citizen. Multiple felons perhaps, but certainly not dangerous.”
Which One Do You Prefer the Book or The Film
For enthusiasts of the book and film, it might well take a couple of pages to warm to Little’s style in this interpretation of Thompson’s work of art. It isn’t so much that it’s unforgiving or unwelcoming—an incredible inverse. Minimal’s last significant work was a comic book form of the Powerpuff Girls—not actually the kind of resume thing that brings to mind gonzo reporting. Be that as it may, even in the first, Thompson-surrogate Raoul Duke is, in numerous faculties, an animation, and Little has requested that himself develop as strict an adjustment as could be expected under the circumstances.
What his visual style needs tranquilize energized disarray, contrasted with the past takes by Ralph Steadman and Terry Gilliam, it makes up in sheer expressiveness, catching the feeling of instantaneousness and suspicion that immersed the first’s long, awful trip. For the individuals who definitely know each composed letter of the book, this is a retread, however for another generation never presented to the first, it’s a distinctive knowledge into one of the most fascinatingly imaginative and steadily upset authors of his own generation.
Let us know which quotes is more likable on your perspective.