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Fear and Loathing in the 1950s
Contrary to pop culture knowledge, Hunter S. Thompson wrote several
impressive books prior to his 1971 smashing take on the aging
”drug culture” of the ‘60s, .nightsandweekends.com/articles/05/NW0500077.php>Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. Perhaps the
best of these offerings is a novel (Thompson’s first) called The Rum
Diary. Set in San Juan, Puerto Rico, in the late ‘50s, the
novel is a laugh-out-loud look at the state of “foreign” English journalism
and one man’s quest to ride and abuse the system of the powers that be, if
necessary, right to the bitter end.
Fueled by the introspective and painfully comical look at life that
Thompson is famous for, the novel examines the thoughts and actions of Paul
Kemp, a journalist who’s grown tired of living in New York, as he starts a
new job working for a fledgling English language newspaper in the hostile
and corrupt setting of 1950s San Juan. Along the way, he meets
Yemin, a young, energetic, and notoriously egotistical fellow journalist, his
girlfriend, Chenault (who has various affairs throughout the novel and is the
chief love interest), and Sala, who plays the part of the disenchanted
veteran photographer. From the start, the three (Kemp, Yemen, and Sala) seem
determined to sink the paper that they work for by behaving in a completely
irresponsible (and more often than not drunken) fashion. They have a series
of misadventures, all told in that witty and almost psychotic narrative that is
the very essence of Thompson’s writing.
The truly brilliant thing about this novel is its stark contrast to the
typical view of the period in which it was written. Life in the ‘50s is
usually portrayed as a wholesome, family-oriented Leave It to Beaver type
of existence, but this novel explains the truth of the matter—that it was
just as wild and unpredictable and open and free as the society we live in
today. That is, all of these things existed but were obviously swept
beneath a carpet of ignorance (and upon reading the novel, one almost
understands why).
The book reaches its climax in St. Thomas during a giant street festival,
where Kemp ultimately abandons his earlier view of paradise as a
glorious, rum-soaked, orgy of adventure and remarks, “it burned away all the
illusions, and I saw the place as it was—cheap, sullen, and garish—nothing good was going to happen here.”
To the easily-offended reader, beware. This book isn’t for you.
If you’re appalled by open sexuality, excessive drinking, alternative
lifestyles, or plain old inappropriate fun, do not attempt to read this book. It will only serve to make you angry. But for anyone looking for a good, immoral
laugh at life and excess, set in an exciting tropical landscape, this is the
perfect book for you. Take it on your next vacation—and be sure to finish it before the film version, starring Johnny Depp, is released later this year.
