Le Marathon d'Honolulu

by Hunter S. Thompson, Nicolas Richard (Translator)

La mode du marathon, prétexte à une nouvelle équipée délirante et sauvage de l’auteur de Las Vegas Parano. Hunter S. Thompson repart en vadrouille, pour couvrir avec son comparse Ralph Steadman le marathon d’Honolulu, à Hawaï. On est au début des années 1980. La majorité des rebelles des deux décennies précédentes se sont rangés et mis à la course à pied… Ce qui dégoûte profondément Hunter. Mais Honolulu, c’est aussi les expéditions du Capitaine Cook, la divinité Lono, la pêche au gros. Comme d’habitude, le reportage est un fiasco, et le récit du fiasco un fabuleux reportage !

Genres: Fiction, Travel, Journalism, Humor, Art, Novels, Business

216 pages, Paperback

First published November 1, 1983

About the author

Hunter Stockton Thompson was an American journalist and author, widely regarded as a pioneer of New Journalism alongside Gay Talese, Truman Capote, Norman Mailer, Joan Didion, and Tom Wolfe. He gained prominence with Hell's Angels, living among the motorcycle club to provide a first-hand account of their lives, and later wrote the unconventional article "The Kentucky Derby Is Decadent and Depraved," which established his signature Gonzo journalism style, in which the writer becomes central to the narrative. He is best known for Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, serialized in Rolling Stone, exploring the failure of the 1960s counterculture, adapted for film in 1980 and 1998. Thompson ran unsuccessfully for sheriff of Pitkin County, Colorado, on the Freak Power ticket and became known for his intense disdain for Richard Nixon, covering George McGovern's 1972 campaign for Rolling Stone in Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail ’72. His output declined in the mid-1970s due to fame and substance abuse, though he continued writing sporadically for outlets including Rolling Stone, Playboy, Esquire, and ESPN.com, with much of his work collected in The Gonzo Papers. Thompson was known for lifelong alcohol and drug use, love of firearms, and contempt for authority, often noting that such vices "worked for him." He was born in Louisville, Kentucky, to Virginia Davison Ray, a librarian, and Jack Robert Thompson, an insurance adjuster, and grew up in the Cherokee Triangle neighborhood. After his father’s death, his mother raised him and his two brothers. An athletic youth, he co-founded the Hawks Athletic Club, attended several schools including Louisville Male High School, and became a member of the Athenaeum Literary Association, contributing to its yearbook until expelled for criminal activity. He enlisted in the Air Force, studying electronics and becoming sports editor of the Command Courier, then worked briefly for Time and local newspapers before moving to Puerto Rico to write for El Sportivo and the San Juan Star. He traveled to South America for the National Observer, then lived in Big Sur, where he worked as a caretaker and security guard and published his first magazine feature and short story. Thompson married Sandra Dawn Conklin, with whom he had a son, Juan, and continued writing, experimenting with dextroamphetamine and later cocaine. His reporting on the Hell's Angels and coverage of the 1968 Democratic National Convention shaped his political outlook. After Hell's Angels, he published for national magazines and critiqued the hippie movement, then moved to Woody Creek, Colorado, establishing his home Owl Farm. In 1970, he pioneered Gonzo journalism with his Kentucky Derby article, later collaborating with illustrator Ralph Steadman, and began writing Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, combining fiction and reportage. His coverage of the 1972 presidential campaign broke traditional boundaries of political reporting. Thompson struggled with fame and substance abuse, missing assignments such as the Rumble in the Jungle in 1974, and retreated to Owl Farm, continuing to write sporadically. He produced The Gonzo Papers, contributed to The San Francisco Examiner, and published memoir Kingdom of Fear in 2003. He married Anita Bejmuk in 2003, and in 2005 took his own life at Owl Farm. Thompson’s Gonzo style blurred fiction and nonfiction, placing himself at the center of his narratives, often creating a mythic persona, Raoul Duke. His political beliefs included support for drug legalization, firearm rights, civil liberties, and skepticism of official narratives, and he engaged in advocacy through the Fourth Amendment Foundation and NORML. Posthumously, scholarships in his name support journalism students and veterans. Thompson remains a cult figure, celebrated for his audacious, immersive writing, fearless social critique, and enduring influence o

Reviews

[J.L. Sutton · Rating 3 out of 5]

“Yesterday's weirdness is tomorrow's reason why.”



I was intrigued by the claim that Hunter Thompson's The Curse of Lono was to Hawaii what Fear and Loathing was to Las Vegas. Though Thompson predictably interjects himself into the story he is reportedly covering, the Hawaii Marathon, I didn't feel as immersed in his crazed adventures as I had with Fear and Loathing. I had some interest in how Thompson covered big game fishing and I liked how he used journal entries from Captain Cook's voyage to establish context, but The Curse of Lono still fell short to me.

[Lyn · Rating 3 out of 5]

I accepted my assignment with some wild trepidation. It’d been a while since I spent time with Dr. Hunter S. Thompson and I knew the crazy bastard would give me the shakes if I let off the throttle for half a second.

Before I uploaded the book, his 1983 visit to Hawaii and the dark underbelly of Americana, I fired up the El Camino and went for provisions, I wouldn’t be left stranded high and dry like a potbellied iguana the way I had in Costa Rica; I’d be ready this time. I surveyed my haul: three cases of Kona Beer, two gallons of rum, a couple pints of gin, a handle of Kentucky bourbon, a carton of American Spirit cigarettes and a bag of Lays potato chips. I was on a shoestring budget, but this might just get me through to screaming end.

Thompson was in rare form, describing a quick survey of the Hawaii marathon that ended up with weeks on the Kona shore, holed up like a gang of demented ferrets in a hot dog factory. The good doctor mixed in his cacophony of gonzo literature with snippets of history of the island and especially of Captain James Cook and his fatal last voyage and his attempted kidnapping of a Hawaiian king. It was a blood curdling song of despair, nervousness and confusion – but worth the shamble through the back alleys of Honolulu to a high resting place atop a summit of clear perspective.

So long again, Thompson, you frenzied maniac, we’ll meet again.

[Steven Godin · Rating 3 out of 5]

I can just picture him now - sun visor on, orange tinted sunglasses, cigarette holder/Dunhill cigarette, cocktail in hand, tripping out on mescaline and mushrooms whilst hula dancing with reptile beings. Well, I had to imagine these things because overall I found this a rather disappointing and flat read. There are flashes of brilliance on a few occasions, but it's nowhere near the levels of my fave, The Rum Diary, nor as rollickingly crazed as Fear & Loathing to become as memorable. Thompson's antics during his coverage of the Honolulu Marathon probably being the book's highlight, but other than that after, he really isn't up to much, and nothing of any real interest occurs, which was a pity.

[Christopherseelie · Rating 5 out of 5]

The most elaborate, hilarious, and engrossing "big fish" tale ever committed to print. This is one of Hunter Thompson's greatest achievements, and it doesn't hurt that the packaging is lavish. A huge coffeetable book with quality prints, facsimiles of the Good Doctor's relevant letters, and interspersed excerpts from other books that fill in the Hawaiian history relevant to the story. What is so fascinating about this last feature is that it reveals what other HST books have left out: the studious preparation behind the wild stories.
Roughly ten years after Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, the action opens with the line "We were about forty minutes out of San Fransisco when the crew finally decided to take action on the problem in Lavatory 1B." Remarkably similar to the iconic opening "We were somewhere around Barstow on the edge of the desert when the drugs began to take hold". And so begins a manifold tale of America in the '80s-a tale of a Christmas vacation gone horribly, horribly wrong-a tale of high stakes sports fishing-and the tale of a man finding his inner godliness on the westernmost edge of America.
Put that way, The Curse of Lono might be the most ambitious book in the Thompson oeuvre. Either way, I personally think it is his funniest.

[A · Rating 5 out of 5]

It was such an amazing and twisted read. I couldn't put the book down. I even cuddled with it.

[Mike Marsbergen · Rating 5 out of 5]

My current favourite book of all time, from my current favourite writer of all time.

I never thought I'd ever get a chance to read this badboy, or at least not until I hit the age of forty. But my parents were kind enough to splurge on it for my birthday back on July 11th, 2013.

I was pleasantly surprised to find that this thing is bloody ginormous. My version is a coffee-table book, meaning it could technically be used as a weapon or to club off intruders.

The pictures are beautiful, and the size of the book really allows them to come to life.

The story itself is a wonderfully wacky Thompson tale which blends comedy and weirdness with darker stuff (the dogs, man!) and even some Hawaiian history. A genre-blender of the highest order.

Highly recommended to anyone and everyone. I was laughing until tears came out of my eyes, and then two lines later I'd be questioning my own sanity.

If only Hunter S. Thompson had written more...

[Matt · Rating 5 out of 5]

I LOVED THIS STORY!

Hunter beating a mythical sized Swordfish over the head with an "ancient hawaiian war hammer". What more could you ask for???

[Arthur · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is the Hunter Thompson book you've never heard of, but really want to read. It's mostly about how crappy Hawaii is. It has the best ending of any of his stuff I've read, hands down.

Getting the book though is another matter. The paperback of it has been out of print since the early 80s. It's only produced now by Taschen, the art book company, as a big 60 dollar coffee table book. And they only started really printing it about a year after the first batch of 1000. The first 1000 Taschen put out were signed by Ralph Steadman, Thompson's artist and partner, and numbered. You can find these first 1000 on used book pages on BN.com or Amazon for around a thousand bucks, making it one of the more pricey things I know of on those used services, besides that Madonna Sex book from the early 90s.

So basically if you want to read it, you're screwed, unless of course you know somebody that has a DRM free digital copy. But who would possibly have one of those?

[Evan · Rating 4 out of 5]

One afternoon this week as I rode my bicycle home from the library I passed under the branches of an array of stout old trees along the roadway. But I had my suspicions about them, and this, more or less verbatim, was what I was thinking:
"They look safe enough, but you read about their dastardly ways once in awhile, dropping a trunk onto some hapless unsuspecting bastard, pile-driving him into oblivion. You'd think I was safe, being a tree-hugger, but they don't care. I'm human."

Now, would I have thought about that, in this way, unless I had read Hunter S. Thompson? I don't think so.

The funny thing is, once you've read some Hunter, his mode of thinking becomes yours, or maybe that only happens with people who share some kindred spirit with him, with his skewed outlook; I was already inclined toward that bent. I'm also a native of Louisville, like Thompson, and that's an exclusive club of shared weirdness.

My imitation is easily explained, too, because there is a certain formula to Thompson, and it attracts all manner of bad imitators. The fact that it can be replicated does not detract from its originality, and its particular qualities -- which can only be had from lived observation -- means his prose style can never be duplicated without someone calling the faker out.

The Curse of Lono has long been considered a bastard stepchild in Thompson's oeuvre. For some reason, it was only given a small print run in 1983 after which its rarity ensured its cult status and high prices for used copies. Upon Thompson's death in 2005, it was reissued in a deluxe edition sporting even more of collaborator Ralph Steadman's beautifully twisted paintings and illustrations. That edition, too, became a collectible.

Why the book has been treated as a specialty item is a mystery to me, because, at least in terms of laughs per square column inch, it possibly beats even Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas.

As I started reading it, I was inclined to think of it as a junior league retread of ...Vegas, down to its conceit of having a reporter, Thompson, covering a minor local sporting event (a marathon in Honolulu), then losing interest in it quickly and setting off on a maddening, aimless, drug-fueled surreal adventure informed of local lore and mythology.

To a certain extent, Thompson does stumble into a well-gouged mine to extract some familiar ore. Luckily, though, he's very good at this and the story, though derivative, has its own grotesque charms as well as the always impish off-kilter humor that I love so much in Thompson's work, and as it proceeded, the book won me over. Even when the incidents to some degree seem like repeated variations on a theme, and the constant drug references threatened to take the wink-and-nudge factor too far, I was constantly impressed by Thompson's piquant observations and brutal cosmic punchlines.

Once again, Hunter faces The Fear in search of The Wisdom, fearlessly and irrationally, or at least his first-person alter-ego protagonist does. In the process, he stares it down -- the locals facing off against the outsider, and vice versa. The result is ironic, comic gold.

The book's "plot," in a nutshell, has Hunter and a drug-dealing acquaintance flying to Hawaii to cover the marathon, meeting there the writer's always reluctant artistic collaborator Steadman and his family. After aceing some beautiful and hilarious observations on the insanity of running, he and his cadre head for the Kona Coast on the big island where things get much stranger. There Thompson becomes determined to snare the ultimate prize, a big Blue Marlin, on a fishing trip journey that matches any harrowing sea adventure. During all of this, a hospital-load of drugs and booze are downed, Steadman becomes deathly ill causing him and his family to split and allowing Thompson to continue to charge insane amounts on his running tab, a fishing companion has his toe crushed by an oxygen tank, a firecracker bomb wreaks unintended havoc, the locals and beach thugs get very surly, the weather turns vicious, Thompson is stung in the eye by a wasp stuck behind his shades, a hibachi grill nearly threatens disaster on the sea-tossed fishing vessel, murderous and litigious real-estate moguls threaten vengeance, a stubborn anchor almost leaves the hapless fishing crew forever adrift, a companion has his armed died blue for the entire book as the result of an airplane toilet bowl mishap, a savage outbreak of red fleas infects the men's mascot, a major drug operation threatens to expose the motley crew, a veterinarian ships out illegal drugs labeled "dog medicine..." and so on.

On top of all this, Thompson is pondering the island legend of Lono, the God who the locals once dubbed Captain Cook before cultural misunderstandings led to his violent death. When the crazed Thompson arrives in port with his proud marlin catch, he harbors a God complex and delusions of grandeur and proclaims himself to be the God Lono returned to them, a move that goes too far, pissing off the islanders. You can say and do almost anything, he is told, but don't mess with their religion. Needless to say, he goes into hiding with the help of a weed-smoking park ranger.

The book's descriptions of sport fishing are great and the attendant tales imaginative. This is possibly the funniest fishing story ever written.

And, trigger warning for the easily offended, the book is sprinkled with Thompson's typical casual racism, which one can deal with in context.

The last chapters in the book take an epistolary form, in letters to Ralph Steadman, and conclude with a breathlessly beautiful sentence of Thompson describing a companion's swim in the sea.

This is not a book the Hawaii Chamber of Commerce could ever endorse. This is not the Hawaii of blue skies, crystal seas and languid green palms. This is the alternate Hawaiian universe, a Dantesque version of a paradise as hell on earth. Leave it to Thompson to find that underbelly.

And nowhere else would you find a friend's alienation described as "kinky brooding" -- an amazing insight into the contradictory impulses of self pity.

I will admit, I read an online "renegade" copy of this, so I was not able to see all of Steadman's crazy and amazing illustrations, but most of those too are posted online to see.

This was a unique experience and I would like to read it again someday.

(Kr@Ky 2016)

[Philip Girvan · Rating 5 out of 5]

There's a persistent myth that Hunter Thompson's formidable talent had faded sometime around Carter's inauguration. This incredible book, featuring horrific, wonderful drawings by his collaborator on the Fear and Loathing books (at the Kentucky Derby, in Las Vegas, on the Campaign Trail '72) gives a very interesting history of the Hawaiian Islands, provides an excellent critique/prophecy of greedy Reagan America, and tells a wild story of sportfishers, shifty lawyers, and, of course, Thompson himself, warts and all.

Highly recommended. Still stunned that I only finally got around to reading the book this fall.

[Erik Graff · Rating 3 out of 5]

I've read a lot of Hunter Thompson over the years but wasn't acquainted with this title. Having spent my sixteenth summer in Hawaii, his story, ostensibly of his own months there, mostly on the Big Island, in the early eighties, attracted me.

As ever, I found some of this 'memoir' very funny, enough to elicit laughter. That was mostly from the first third of the narrative. Afterwards I got the sense that Thompson was just fulfilling a book contract. Reading him, however, did get me to go to the computer to look up photos of places that I hadn't seen in decades.

[Duchess · Rating 5 out of 5]

I think this is my fave HST book. Coupled with Steadman's delicious gonzo art, the writing and story really comes alive.
Its a crazy romp through Hawaii which no Thompson or Steadman fan should go without reading!
*If you're a fan of Steadmans art, as I am in a big way - look for a recently published version of Lono. Its a huge oversized hardback printed on high quality pages where Steadman's art really is given center stage. I keep it on display at all times!

[Louise · Rating 4 out of 5]

I don't know why I have been in Hawaii this long without reading this. It was time to pick it up.

It has all the hallmarks of a Hunter Thompson work.... energy, macho, drugs & alcohol, fast cars, loose talk and some politically uncorrect nouns and adjectives. The drawings of Ralph Steadman add even more edginess. The story is secondary to the style.

Also, like any Hunter Thompson book, there is redeeming content. While an ordinary journalist would cover Waikiki, surfing and flowers... they rate only a mention with HST.

The first focus is the Honolulu Marathon - not even present in most travel books although it is every bit as international as its NYC and Boston cousins. The description is pure Thompson... and right on.

Thompson does the same for 2 week storm on the Big Island - again - not often mentioned in other travel literature.

The longest part is about sport fishing in Kona.

Interspersed is some period writing of the voyage of Captain Cook and one from Mark Twain.

It's a good fast read. I like the layout. Nicely wedged in Hawaiian allusions. Pure, but not vintage, Thompson.

[César Ojeda · Rating 4 out of 5]

«La vida no debería ser un viaje a la tumba con la intención de llegar a salvo en un cuerpo bonito y bien conservado, sino más bien llegar derrapando de lado, entre una nube de humo, completamente desgastado y destrozado, y proclamar en voz alta: ¡Wow! ! ¡Qué viaje!»

[Robert · Rating 5 out of 5]

A wild and hilarious trip to Hawaii by the gonzo man!
With great historical notes and references this book is quite a tale.
Deep sea fishing, and surviving wild storms are just a few of the crazy adventures the author writes about.

[Tobias Mcevoy · Rating 3 out of 5]

Not HSTs best work to be honest, but the art is top notch—so it might be worth picking up a copy just to have this one on the shelf.

[D.M. · Rating 4 out of 5]

Curse of Lono came out in 1983, which means I would've been about 14 when I found it inexplicable racked in my small town's sole bookshop/newsstand. I freely admit I'd never heard of Thompson or Steadman, and that it was actually the latter's frenetic and vaguely frightening art that drew me to the book. Ten bucks would've been hard for me to come by at the time (probably proceeds from my short-lived Sunday-paper route), but this book was something I had to have. It is not hyperbole to say that it changed my life forever.
While now, in retrospect and having since read most of Thompson's writing, I can see this is not at all a classic book (let alone classic Thompson), when I was a small-town teenager it was a window in a world I couldn't have imagined existed. Most of my reading up to that point was no more recent than Sherlock Holmes, so to witness the savagery, catastrophe and balls-out insanity that was Hunter Thompson was mind-blowing.
The book today reads like what it was: Thompson attempting a return to classic form. By this time in his career, he had regrettably found himself utterly hemmed in by the Gonzo character he had created. In ...Lono, he admits he'd been turning down writing assignments for years when he took one to cover the Honolulu Marathon for a small mag called 'Running.' Perhaps he saw it as a chance to relive the magic that caused Fear And Loathing In Las Vegas (which, of course, started as an assignment to cover a motorcycle race, but turned into something bigger and stranger). Unfortunately, this book lacks the grand mission that ...Las Vegas took on. There is no American Dream pursued here, in fact nothing is pursued at all. Even what could have ended as a journey of self-discovery for Thompson ends in a manic fizzle rather than any kind of resolution. Too many threads are left dangling (Whatever happened to Ackerman and the pot? What became of the dog in the suite and its killer fleas?) to qualify this as a concrete novel either. What we end up with is a slightly beefed-up magazine article that reads like something between Rum Diary and ...Las Vegas, padded further by extensive excerpts from other sources on Hawaiian history (does he do that in ANY other book?).
The writing itself, of course, is classic Thompson, and thus a wonderful, fun read. And the beautifully reproduced Steadman illustrations are a rare delight in the Thompson library. It's small wonder German art-book publishers Taschen chose to reprint it in coffee-table format. It is a gorgeous example of Steadman's work, but only an adequate one of Thompson's.

[Erica · Rating 4 out of 5]

Part of a conversation about this book:

E: Just ate a sub-par dinner, reading Hunter S. Thompson, avoiding cleaning....I'm doing pretty good.
P: Fear and Loathing?
E: The Curse of Lono. Hawaii in the 80s, marathons, botched fishing excursions, mescaline.
P: Right up there with brown copper kettles and warm woolen mittens

Exactly.

[lapetitesouris · Rating 4 out of 5]

HST was an absolute legend, I can never get enough of his work. This book is brilliant (as always), full of experiences only HST could get into. Pages full of Steadman's artwork in-colour make the wild ride come to life.

[Scott · Rating 3 out of 5]

Not his best effort, a little disjointed and and depressing, but it was an interesting read.

[Jaer Mertens · Rating 3 out of 5]

The protagonist is invited to write a piece about the Honolulu marathon. He decides to stay a bit longer on the Hawaiian islands, with the idea of a nice sunny holiday. It turns out quite differently, as all odds seem to stack against him. The island people, the realtors, and the weather all seem to have it out on him. It’s a terrible couple of weeks that lead to the descend into madness, which leads to the protagonist finally being convinced that he is the embodiment of the god Lono.

I like this story a lot. The style is very direct and personal. There is beautiful prose to be found in the reflections of the protagonist. Another interesting thing about this story is that there are inserts of other books about Hawaiian history. Either mycology, or stories about Captain Cook’s arrival and his demise. It cleverly resembles the modern day story of the protagonist, or add least adds to the mythological curse of Lono about how the island handles incoming foreigners.

[Ryan · Rating 4 out of 5]

For those who enjoy Thompson's style, this is a must-- every bit as good as Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas and the stuff collected in The Great Shark Hunt, if not quite reaching the heights of Hell's Angels and Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail, for me easily the best books of his career. This one, while very slim (not necessarily a flaw, as frankly Thompson's shtick can sometimes wear thin for me over the course of an entire book), deserves a lot more love than it has historically gotten, having frequently fallen out of print and languished in obscurity, while forgettable, HST-by-numbers works like Better Than Sex, Kingdom of Fear, and the collection of his frequently embarrassing Hey Rube ESPN.com Page 2 columns have remained widely available since publication. Proceed here after the three classics (Vegas, Campaign Trail, Hell's Angels) if you want long-form Thompson.

[Elias · Rating 5 out of 5]

I would have to consider The Curse of Lono my favourite Hunter S Thompson book I have read so far. It has the type of sharp, sarcastic, ludicrous, narrative that Hunter S Thompson is known for but combines this with the history of Hawaii. Hunter relates his own trip to Hawaii and the experiences he has with the myths of the island. This book combines hysteria with genius and this is exactly what one is looking for when they read Hunter S Thompson. Ralph Steadmans illustrations are also outstanding.

[Designated Hysteric · Rating 2 out of 5]

Hunter S. Thompson's curse was his annoyingly persistent belief that his comically deranged style could be employed in the service of any narrative, with the end result being satisfactory.

[Ian Wilson · Rating 3 out of 5]

Not his best. An attempt to recapture Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. The local characters are well conceived. Just the kind of mad bastards you would expect from a HST novel.

[Danny™️ · Rating 4 out of 5]

What happened

[Holly · Rating 3 out of 5]

Me: yeah, I can see what others meant when they said this isn't his best work

Also me: laughing in a good way mostly the entire time, nonetheless

[Jack Nicholls · Rating 2 out of 5]

One of the good doctor's later books, and one that suffers from the many circumstances that underwent his life. I love Hunter S Thompson's writing but this is a mess even by his standards. Judging by how this book has the reviews for all his previous work on the back but absolutely none for the very work it's trying to sell, it's clear even the book knows this is a lesser affair.

His journey to find the heart of Hawaii, through marathon running, boating, fishing, and the myth and culture of its people, is fraught with a man who seems less present for most of the proceedings. The low word-count of this book is apparent, and events feel sparse and glossed over sometimes. The illustrations by Ralph Steadman are great as always, but end up feeling like filler more than a worthy accompaniment, since there's so little writing from the writer. Add in as well excerpts from Mark Twain and about Captain Cook's voyage, and it becomes clear we have a very anaemic work that wears baggy clothing to hide its insubstantiality.

It endeavours to find a point that's barely perceptible, brushing up against all sorts of topics relevant to the island life but never really getting a good grip with them, not tackling them as it feels he should. He is detached, the problems are all spectres over an island that he does not see or reckon with while schmoozing at the hotel bar.

It feels that ends up being the point in the end, at least somewhat. Arguably the highlight of the whole book is the finale where Thompson feels like he's the one in charge and engaging with where he is, with who he's with. Everyone gazes in horror or embarrassment at the crazed man, and it feels it's as it should be. It's during these moments the lighter has finally struck and the fire of the old familiar Doctor Gonzo is burning again, but it's all too late now.

[Metin Yılmaz · Rating 5 out of 5]

Hunter abimiz yine eğlendiren ama anlaşılırken zorlamaya özen gösteren bir kitap bırakmış bize. Çizimlerle çok ama çok daha iyi bir hale gelmiş olan kitap, Taschen kalitesiyle eşsizleşmiş. Ralph Steadman’ın daha fazla kitabını, çizgi romanını görme şansımız olsa keşke.
Tabi bir de Hunter S. Thompson’un hayatının çizgi romanını okuma şansımız olsa! Ne güzel olmaz mı acaba?

[Jim · Rating 4 out of 5]

We were walking along Ali’i Drive, enjoying an after-dinner stroll, when we saw it: The Kona Inn, one of the oldest watering holes on the island, beckoning to us like a siren.

I’d flown in from San Diego that morning and my biological clock was three hours ahead. Nuvia’s journey originated in Guangzhou, China with stops in Shenzen, Seoul, Honolulu and finally Kailua-Kona on “the big island” of Hawai’i. Her biological clock was a matter of speculation.

A short stroll was all we were up for, but we’d changed into our bathing suits in case we felt inspired to dip our toes in the ocean.

Before coming to the Kona coast, I’d re-read The Curse of Lono by Hunter S. Thompson. The first time I read the book in the early ‘90s it made a big impression on me. It has all the hallmarks of Thompson’s gonzo journalism: a blend of reportage with a first-person account of the events he’s writing about.

For example, he doesn’t simply cover the Honolulu Marathon, he inserts himself and his hedonistic ways into the story, making his irreverent style of reporting an essential part of the narrative.

Anyone can write about a race, was Thompson’s thinking, but few can write about it while under the influence of gross quantities of alcohol and drugs and surrounded by nefarious characters that lend an aura of danger to the proceedings.

It’s all very meta.

For most readers of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas I suspect it’s the excess that enchants. Embarking on a trip to Las Vegas with a head full of bad chemicals was practically a rite of passage for young HST enthusiasts of my generation.

But The Curse of Lono is different.

It has HST’s patented immersion journalism, but it also includes illustrations from and letters to Ralph Steadman as well as excerpts from Mark Twain’s Letters from Hawaii, Richard Hough’s The Last Voyage of Captain James Cook, and The Journal of William Ellis, a missionary who traveled extensively in the Sandwich Islands, as they were known after the Earl of Sandwich funded Captain James Cook’s journey to mark the Transit of Venus on the isle of Tahiti in 1778.

In other words there’s history and lore that HST uses as foreshadowing to great effect, and this is what captivated me when I was a young writer. Today we would call it a hybrid narrative.

I was impressed not with HST’s excess, but his research and knowledge, the way he used the English explorer Captain Cook and the Hawai’ian fertility god Lono to enhance his story. (It also didn’t hurt that in 1987 I took a bunch of acid and saw HST do one of his “Fear and Loathing at the Super Bowl” talks in San Diego.)

Anyway, I loved the idea that these mythological figures out of the past could be brought to thunderous life in a chiaroscuro of fact and fiction, making a mundane story about a marathon both deeply personal and shockingly strange.

Rereading The Curse of Lono I was less impressed with the book than I’d been the first time around, but I could see HST’s influence on my own approach to narrative nonfiction. While I don’t insert myself into the stories I write for the LA Times and other outlets, I certainly do in my columns for Razorcake and in newsletters for Message from the Underworld. My agenda may no longer involve drugs and alcohol, but there’s always another layer to the narrative, another angle I’m exploring, to elevate the experience so that I’m not simply covering a band or interviewing a writer.

“Journalism is a Ticket to Ride,” HST writes, “to get involved in the same news that other people watch on TV—which is nice, but won’t pay the rent, and people who can’t pay their rent in the Eighties are going to be in trouble. We are into a very nasty decade, a brutal Darwinian crunch that will not be a happy time for free-lancers.”

Well, HST was right about that, and the situation has only gotten worse in our current “very nasty decade” as the entire print media ecosystem teeters on collapse.

When I tell someone I’m working on a book or writing a piece for the paper, doors open that would normally stay closed. People open up, and that’s exciting. With the right approach, it can turn an ordinary assignment into an adventure. This access is addicting, which HST knew all too well.

“There is action, and action is an easy thing to get hooked on.”

But I feel like this approach is something that a lot of writers and editors have forsaken after COVID, and that younger writers are deliberately opting out of. Why travel across the city/state/planet to interview someone when you can set up a meeting on Zoom?

Because that’s where the action is, that’s when adventure happens. Not being able to log into your meeting or share a screen with a colleague isn’t an adventure, but running out of gas, stopping for a coffee, or killing time at a bar before the gig often is. It’s all part of the mix, or can be anyway, but you have to insert yourself into the story.

I was trying to explain all this to Nuvia while we waited to be served at the crowded bar at the Kona Inn, which was HST’s unofficial headquarters during his time on Hawai’i. A local woman celebrating her 40th birthday presented all of her guests with flowers to wear in their hair. They were all beautifully dressed in traditional garb and drinking heavily, but not as heavily as the trio of men on the other side of the bar who were eyeing the women and downing cocktails as fast as the bartender could make them. One of them was wearing stiff blue overalls and was becoming louder by the second while out on the lawn one of the servers lit tiki torches as the last of the sunlight dissipated into the Pacific. Time was becoming as loopy and rubbery as a lei made with fake flowers and it felt like violence could spill out of the bar and onto the torchlit lawn at any moment…

(See how much fun it is to lean into HST’s style of storytelling? He doesn’t just set the scene he turns it up to 11 and then sets his chaos agents loose in it.)

The Curse of Lono hasn’t aged particularly well. HST is adept at painting someone as a terrible person who says and does terrible things. Then in the next scene they’re friends. Whenever I read one of HST’s books for the second time, I can see the seams in the narrative, how it was cobbled together from different pieces to create a larger but less cohesive work. But HST was right about one thing: Captain Cook was a tourist with a taste for bloodshed who got what he had coming to him and they both would have hated Zoom.

(This originally appeared here: https://jimruland.substack.com/p/fear...)