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Heralded as the "best book on the dope decade" by the New York Times Book Review, Hunter S. Thompson's documented drug
orgy through Las Vegas would no doubt leave Nancy Reagan blushing and D.A.R.E. founders rethinking their motto. Under
the pseudonym of Raoul Duke, Thompson travels with his Samoan attorney, Dr. Gonzo, in a souped-up convertible dubbed the
"Great Red Shark." In its trunk, they stow "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 multicolored uppers, downers,
screamers, laughers.... A quart of tequila, a quart of rum, a case of Budweiser, a pint of raw ether and two dozen
amyls," which they manage to consume during their short tour.
On assignment from a sports magazine to cover "the fabulous Mint 400"--a free-for-all biker's race in the heart of the
Nevada desert--the drug-a-delic duo stumbles through Vegas in hallucinatory hopes of finding the American dream (two
truck-stop waitresses tell them it's nearby, but can't remember if it's on the right or the left). They of course never
get the story, but they do commit the only sins in Vegas: "burning the locals, abusing the tourists, terrifying the
help." For Thompson to remember and pen his experiences with such clarity and wit is nothing short of a miracle; an
impressive feat no matter how one feels about the subject matter. A first-rate sensibility twinger, Fear and Loathing in
Las Vegas is a pop-culture classic, an icon of an era past, and a nugget of pure comedic genius. --Rebekah Warren