‘Fear and Loathing’ is gonzo journalist Thompson’s fictionalised autobiographical account of his drug-infused trip to Las Vegas with his attorney. It is a nonsensical acid trip of a book with an extremely rough and vulgar prose style, little remorse for anyone other individual and on a futile search for the American dream, creating crossovers with 'The Great Gatsby' yet exploring the opposite side of society.

Throughout the narrative the speakers are continuously high pedalling huge quantities of drugs through hotel rooms and across the state, and generally aren’t very subtle about it but get by through deception and blackmail. The peculiar experience of this book is only heightened by the use of Ralph Steadman’s illustrations throughout, which are gaudy and equally drawn alike to a fever dream state of intoxication. I can draw a fair few parallels between ‘Fear and Loathing’ and Burroughs’ ‘Naked Lunch’, each exploring the drug culture of 60s and 70s America but while ‘Naked Lunch’ is among the worst books I have read ‘Fear and Loathing’ wasn’t quite as repulsive and vile in the majority of its depictions, and does a slightly better job of identifying somewhat of a problem, however still glorifies the freeloading crime-infused lifestyle. Everything I have read in this peculiar sub-genre of narcotics fiction has had similar choppy and vulgar feelings, with very confused narratives and are often quite unsettling, and yet for some reason despite not particularly liking any of this category I have read (considering De Quincey’s ‘Confessions of an English Opium Eater’ and ‘Naked Lunch’) I still have a curiosity towards the topic and literary movement, given how it rubs shoulders with absurdism. Of the aforementioned trio ‘Fear and Loathing’ has been the best, but nonetheless just as weird.