Gentlemen, start your engines.
An absolutely stunning debut for any writer.
Thompson writes with knife-like precision and an eye for detail that pegs him as a born journalist but an ingenuity and original style that puts him in a league of his own.
Sometimes he writes like a scientist, or like David Attenborough, describing a new rare species of gorillas that he has suddenly come upon in the jungle as in the following lines...
"Probably the most universal common denominator in identification of Hell's Angels is their generally filthy condition." (page 8)
They were the original 1%-ers before it took on a broader swathe of the population in modern terms to basically mean the 'underdog.' Their shaky relationship with the AMA (American Motorcycle Association) is also interesting to read about.
Another of Hunter's many strengths is his ability to stand inside the shoes of various parties involved in the story. Often considered a 'nuisance' to normal regular run-of-the-mill drivers on the American highway, Hunter paints a description of the Angels through their eyes, "The southbound lanes were crowded with taxpayers heading out for a Labor Day weekend that suddenly seemed tinged with horror as the Angel band swept past...this animal crowd on big wheels, going somewhere public, all noise and hair and bust-out raping instincts...the temptation for many a motorist was to swing hard left, with no warning, and crush these arrogant scorpions." (page 11)
HST deftly traces the outlaw motorcycle gang's swift rise to universal notoriety but through his gonzo-journalism method, in which he joins in the action as a somewhat 'neutral' bystander offering firsthand accounts of what went down, he is able to lift the 'deadly fictions' of the press from our eyes, chase away the mist, and show us the true angels, bare bones and all: "Weird as it seems, as this gange of costumed hoodlums converged on Monterey that morning they were on the verge of 'making it big,' as the showbiz people say, and they would owe most of their success to a curious rape mania that rides on the shoulder of American journalism like some jeering, masturbating raven." (page 13). As you can see Hunter has a very gentle tongue-in-cheek way of poking fun at the excesses and exaggerations of the press but he does it with real panache. At other times, he is more direct and at these times, he makes sure not mince his words: "If the 'Hells Angels Saga' proved any one thing, it was the awesome power of the New York press establishment." (page 34).
So why was everyone so interested in the Hells Angels to begin with? Weren't they just a bunch of undereducated drunken and disorderly hoods riding around on motorcycles? Well, once again Thompson skillfully analyzes our thirst and interest in their primitive ways with the precision of an expert dart-thrower: "The concept of the 'motorcycle outlaw' was as uniquely American as jazz. Nothing like them ever existed. In some ways they appeared to be a kind of half-breed anachronism, a human hangover from the era of the Wild West." It is also just, to put it simply, great original writing that engages with the reader effortlessly.
Thompson's prose borders on poetic at times in his description of the boys he is riding with
"To see a lone Angel screaming through traffic - defying all rules, limits and patterns - is to understand the motorcycle as an instrument of anarchy, a tool of defiance and even a weapon." (page 85)
Although Hunter got quite close to these outlaws, he is able to distance himself away from them at arm's length to avoid being overly subjective in his analysis or overly romantic about these guys being 'heros': "There is something pathetic about a bunch of men gathering every night in the same bar, taking themselves very seriously in their ratty uniforms, with nothing to look forward to but the chance of a fight or a round of head jobs from some drunken charwoman." (page 85)
In other parts of the book he offers us such a clear, level-headed and dispassionate overview of their way of life that if anyone reading this thinks of wanting to become an Angel, they would probably think twice after reading Hunter's assessment of them: "When the party swings right, with plenty of beer and broads, being an Angel is a pretty good way to go. But on some of those lonely afternoons when you're fighting a toothache and trying to scrape up a few dollars to pay a traffic fine and the landlord has changed the lock on your door until you pay the back rent...then it's no fun being an Angel." (page 247)
What sets the Angels apart from other motorcycle riders then?
"Later, after riding a few months, I understood that the difference between a Hell's Angel on a hog and a white-collar bike buff on a race-tuned Triumph is not all in the engine. The Angels push their luck to the limit. They take drastic risks with no thought at all. As individuals they have been busted, excluded and defeated in so many ways that they are not about to be polite or careful in the one area where they have an edge." (page 89) Once again, Hunter nails it right on the head.
Not only did I enjoy Hunter's highly idiosyncratic and often humorous descriptions of the Angels, but I also loved reading his incisive social commentary, in which he tries to look at the wider picture and context within which he tries to 'situate' the Angels, the background, and their raison d'etre (reason for being): "It may be that America is developing a whole new category of essentially social criminals...persons who threaten the police and the traditional social structure even when they are breaking no law...because they view The Law with contempt and the police with distrust, and this abiding resentment can explode without warning at the slightest provocation." (page 103)
Their habitual drug-taking is more well-known thanks to the press and Hunter comments on that here too: "The Angels deal freely on the black market, and if any pill really worked as a substitute for food they would use it in large quantities, for it would vastly simplify their lives." (page 165)
Despite being outlaws, Hunter talks about the certain unwritten codes that the Angels all adopt and are aware of: "Girls cook for them, waitresses give them 'credit' at greasy diners, and there are always the married men, whose wives rarely balk at feeding five or six of the brethren at any hour of the day or night. According to the code, there is no such thing as one Angel imposing on another. A hungry outlaw will always be fed by one of the others who has food..." (page 165)
Hunter's humour is another strong point of his writing and his descriptions of cops, public figures and politicians gave me a good chuckle as I was reading this: "We talked on the phone for about an hour one Thursday morning. I was so fascinated that I couldn't hang up. The mayor spoke in a very exotic way. It was obvious that he was a man who marched through life to the rhythms of some drum I would never hear." (page 215)
There are various other questions that the reader has in his/her mind about the Angels and Thompson appears to be able to tap into these queries, very intuitively, and answer each one in turn in a very satisfying manner to the reader. One of these questions is 'why are they often so violent?' or 'from where do they get the image of being so violent?' (which are actually two very different questions)
Thompson: "There is not much mental distance between a feeling of having been screwed and the ethic of total retaliation, or at least the kind of random revenge that comes with outraging the public decency." (page 248)
So how do non-sociologists, like Hunter, account for their existence in the first place?
"Far from being freaks, the Hell's Angels are a logical product of the culture that now claims to be shocked at their existence. The generation represented by the editors of Time has lived so long in a world full of Celluloid outlaws hustling toothpaste and hair oil that it is no longer capable of confronting the real thing." (page 251)
If you want to read a writer who, metaphorically, 'takes no prisoners', then read Hunter S. Thompson. He is about as good as it gets.
And as one Amazon reviewer put it - Thompson's best book is not Fear and Loathing in Los Vegas (although I enjoyed that book very much too) but it's this - Hell's Angels. His masterpiece.