Hunter Thompson books

[leatherback]

Is there anyone out there that could suggest a good author that is similar to the style of Hunter S. Thompson?

[dark0ne]

similar? i don't think so. i just read pinchback's "breaking open the head", that was a decant book LIKE thompson's writing. man fear and loathing was an awsome movie.

[TheAtomicPunk]

Fear n loathing is awesome. Check out the movie "Jekyl and Hyde...together again", and read the book Fear n Loathing. its even better :p

[Maui Wowie]

Lol you repeated the same thing. xP

"Fear and Loathing in America"

"Better than Sex"

"The Rum Diary" (which is being made into a movie in 2006)

"Kindom of Fear"

and "Hell's Angels"

[flamingskullballs]

i dont know...the best piece i have ever read was probably civil disobedience

[Roadking]

Is there anyone out there that could suggest a good author that is similar to the style of Hunter S. Thompson?

Thomas Pynchon is good if you like the deeper stuff...turn up your volume and check out the episode index

:)

a screaming comes across the sky (http://www.themodernword.com/gr/)

[Roadking]

Mason Dixon (http://www.hyperarts.com/pynchon/mason-dixon/)

[Roadking]

Vineland excerpt...

She had to switch cars again before she got to L.A., then took the bus out to a bank branch on mid-Wilshire where she had once providentially stashed a packet of documents that would now give her a choice among identities, paid cash on Western Avenue for a '66 Plymouth Fury, bought a wig at a place across the street, went into a certain ladies' gas-station toilet on Olympic legendary in the dopers' community, and emerged a different, less noticeable person. The car radio, tuned to KFWB, was playing the Doors' "People Are Strange (When You're A Stranger)" as she injected herself into the slow lane of the eastbound freeway and settled in, hating to let any of it go, Banning, the dinosaurs, the Palm Springs turnoff, Indio, across the Mojave, to be redreamed in colors pale but intense, with unnaturally fine sand blowing in plumes across the sun, baby-blue shadows in the folds of the dunes, a pinkish sky-holding, letting go, redreaming each night stop the less easterly places she'd been in all day, coming slowly unstuck, leaving for the United States, trying not to get emotional but still hanging on the rearview mirror's single tale of recedings and vanishing points as we hang on looks our lovers give.