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Originally posted by LessinSF
There are few writers that I have enjoyed more over time, despite some of his later ramblings, and few writers that probably had a greater effect on me, hence the avatar. Even his later ramblings (such as his column for the SF Examiner in the '80s) would sometimes have incredible bon mots of insight and evocative prose. See also, "The Curse of Lono."

He unrelentingly told it like he thought it was, right or wrong, and he had no problem ramping up the hyperbole and polemic to make his point. Moreover, he was willing to risk personal opprobrium by talking about his own foibles. He made it ok tio admit that you like mushrooms, acid, pot, and booze, and that you thought you would like mescaline if you could find any, and adrenochrome if it was real. (Although, my experience with ether sucked.) Further, how many people are willing to be beat up by the Hells Angels in order to get the story right? Not Tom Wolfe. Not Norman Mailer. Not Gabriel Vasuqez fucking Hughes (or whatever his name is).

Most importantly of all, though, is that he was funny. Fall down, side-splitting laughter that you wanted to share with your friends. You lent his books out. You quoted them. And you wanted to have the opening to Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas memorized, and few writers ever evoke that kind of response:

"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 multicolored uppers, downers, screamers, laughers... also a quart of tequila, a quart of rum, a case of Budweiser, a pint of raw ether, and two dozen amyls. But the only thing that worried me was the ether. There is nothing more irresponsible and depraved than a man in the depths of an ether binge, and I knew we would be getting into that rotten stuff sooner or later."

Concur, and while Electric Kool Aid Acid Test is one of my favorite books, I don't think HST would have written "I am Charlotte Rampling" or whatever.

I used to buy all of his books but I though that he really started to suck in the nineties (never read his memoir) and stopped reading him after the Fear and Loathing Reagan or a book or two after. But beinga world class bedshitter, I always fly the Zoo Plane.

I wonder if he shot himself in honor of Hemingway?