Shortly after moving me into college my freshman year, my dad and I were having dinner at some crap restaurant in Boston, discussing my new dorm room and dorm room-needs, as well as some of my new floormates and their parents. When discussing one of the dads in particular, a rather, um, out-spoken and eccentric guy (read: kind of an obnoxious dick), my father, a longshoreman since he was 17 and more of a soft-spoken guy, said, “That’s the kinda guy who gets his ass kicked down the waterfront.”

As portrayed in this book, Hunter Thompson is the kinda guy who’d get his ass kicked down the waterfront.* I say “as portrayed in this book” because this is an oral biography, one of my favorite genres, a style which is a collection of snippets of interviews with those who knew the subject best. But when reading it, you have to be a little bit cynical about the direction the editor(s) has decided to take, because, well, they’re writing without input from the subject and can focus on whatever the eff they want.

That being said, if this book teaches us anything, it’s that being a genius and being an asshole are not mutally exclusive. Like, not even close. Out-spoken, eccentric, and an obnoxious dick, Hunter is portrayed as someone who i) is a monster pain in the ass to everyone around him, who recklessly disregards their safety, sanity and/or happiness; ii) carefully cultivated his persona and desparately loved and desired fame; and iii) despite treating his friends and those “beneath” him terribly, would pander to famous people, whose admiration and company he so desperately sought. One of my main take-aways from this book is, “Man, this guy needs to get over himself and/or someone needs to beat his ass.”

THAT being said, helluva read. I’ve only read one of Hunter’s books (“Campaign Trail”), and that was about fifteen years ago, and though I enjoyed it, it obviously did not inspire me to read any more of his stuff. But there’s no arguing that the guy was fucking lunatic and weird-o whose life, even if he was not a famous writer but rather some crazy mother fucker who lived up the block, is perfect for this sort of biography. If you’re looking for a wild and fast-paced but somewhat substantial (512 pages) read to take with you a trip (say, for example, to Amsterdam), I’d recommend this one.

(*I am aware that Hunter got his ass-kicked by a group of Hell’s Angels, something I knew before reading this book. Based on how he acted throughout his life, I don’t blame them.)

GONZO: THE LIFE OF HUNTER S. THOMPSON by Corey Seymour and Jann Wenner