Crossroads: Rereading the Works of Hunter S. Thompson as Picaresque Narratives

Sean Wilkinson

24 April 2014 Wilkinson 2

Table of Contents

Introduction……………………………………………………………………… 3

Chapter One……………………………………………………………………… 7

Chapter Two………………………………………………………………………24

Chapter Three……………………………………………………………………..39

Conclusion………………………………………………………………………...60

Works Cited……………………………………………………………………….63 Wilkinson 3

INTRODUCTION: APPROACHING THE WORK OF HUNTER S. THOMPSON

This thesis will argue that the work of Hunter S. Thompson can be read as

American Picaresque due to Thompson's utilization of episodic narrative structure,

Picaresque archetypes, and various Picaresque themes such as the criticism of

“civilized” society and the picaro’s fear of aging. Thompson gained notoriety after the success of his 1971 novel, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas: A Savage Journey to the

Heart of the American Dream. In the book, Thompson showcases his unique genre of writing, which he affectionately referred to as Gonzo Journalism, a style that is a unique adaptation of the traditional Picaresque narrative. Both Picaresque and Gonzo narratives are centered on a kind of character often identified as a picaro, a rogue who critiques, and often mocks, the society in which he refuses to participate. Such tales are also episodic; there is no continuous plot, and the picaro lacks character development. Although Gonzo Journalism shares numerous devices with the traditional picaresque narrative, it is also different in many ways: as opposed to the picaros of classic Spanish literature, Thompson's picaro-like characters firmly believe that there is no saving their society, and facilitate the episodic structure of the picaresque through drug abuse—blackouts are a recurring motif in Thompson’s work.

So far, most of the scholarly articles written on Thompson's texts focus on how the literary community classifies his work in the spectrum of journalism. In essence, these articles only debate where Thompson's work can be placed in relevance to other schools of journalism; the struggle to place Gonzo Journalism in the realm of journalism has taken precedent over specific textual analysis. Removing Thompson's Wilkinson 4 work from the realm of journalism and approaching the texts as fictional allows the work to be analyzed in a wider spectrum that affords Thompson's texts multiple ways to be discussed. This is the approach I have taken, one that will make clear the connection between picaresque narrative and Thompson's Gonzo Journalism.

Thompson scoffed at the so-called “objective” approach to journalistic writing in which the journalist would remove him/herself from the piece, and he eventually threw out the standards in favor of his own creation. For young readers, like myself,

Thompson was always an author discussed in private, never in an academic environment. I always wondered why Thompson received so little praise for the massive amount of work he had contributed to the literary field.

I first became aware of Thompson's work when I saw Terry Gilliam's film adaptation of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. I was too young to realize what exactly what was happening in the film, but I did understand that drugs were involved. When I read Thompson's book in high school, I developed a love for his unique style. His biting, sarcastic tone and harsh, cocaine-driven criticisms of

American culture washed in Wild Turkey were refreshing to my high school self, who had thought the epitome of good writing was Steinbeck's Of Mice and Men. I also loved the taboo of Thompson; when I would wander into a used bookstore and ask for any books by Thompson, the employees would make snide comments to my mother about “appropriate” readings. One owner even commented on Thompson's homosexual propaganda—something I have never seen in his work. Wilkinson 5

Now, as a graduate student, I have the honor of approaching Thompson's work from a critical literary standpoint as I analyze his novels as representations of

Modern-American Picaresque. In my research I have found individuals who have approached this task before, but none of these scholars left the relatively safe zone of

Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. That novel will play a role in my thesis, as it was

Thompson's crowning success and most famous work, but Thompson's utilization of the picaresque style was present in his works prior to 1971. From Thompson's earliest novel, The Rum Diary, to one of his last works, The Curse of Lono, Thompson's concise, new journalistic approach worked well with the conventions of the picaresque novel. One of the most difficult parts for this thesis has been finding research on Thompson; a majority of the articles that are on Thompson or Gonzo

Journalism critique the genre for various reasons and do not approach his oeuvre from the standpoint of literary criticism. In John Crowley's 2005 review of the newest reprint of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, he decimates Gonzo Journalism:

In effect, Gonzo Journalism was drug-induced, free-associational,

personal maundering: masturbatory, wino journalism in a new key. The

center of interest because his take on things is assumed to be far more

vital and truer than things themselves—is Thompson’s fictive version of

himself: the reporter as stone deadbeat and stoned perpetrator of minor

felonies. This was sixties New Journalism (Norman Mailer, Truman

Capote, Tom Wolfe, Gay Talese) pushed to the egomaniacal max

(Crowley 146). Wilkinson 6

Thompson's style was new and subjective; it placed the journalist at the center of his assignment and never relied on facts to present a story, acts that frightened and angered some. Crowley's criticism, like a majority of the other criticisms, prioritizes

Thompson's drug-use as a way of stripping Gonzo Journalism of reliability. The only problem with all these critiques is that Thompson never claimed his work to be a reliable, journalistic source in any way, hence why he classified Fear and Loathing in

Las Vegas as fiction in numerous letters to various editors; this insistence strongly implies that this work should be analyzed in relation to literature as opposed to journalism (Thompson 377). Wilkinson 7

CHAPTER 1: THE PICARESQUE, ITS AMERICAN COUNTERPART, AND

GONZO JOURNALISM

Defining the Picaresque

To compare the relatively modern work of Hunter S. Thompson with a literary genre that first appeared in the mid-16th Century is definitely a curious way to approach his writing, but there are some significant correlations between the work of

Thompson and classical Picaresque novels. Some of Thompson's device choices and characters do not fit into the archetypes of the classical Picaresque; however, enough similarities exist to make the claim that Thompson's work can be seen as a part of the

Picaresque genre. As with most literature, one of the main goals of the writers participating in a certain genre is to adhere to certain conventions of that style while simultaneously attempting to develop it. Thompson pushes the Picaresque forward by adapting the archetypes to more modern roles as well as making certain classical elements, like the dominant anti-authoritarian tone, relevant to his own time period.

The Picaresque, in its broadest definition, represents a genre of literature characterized by the often satirical episodic journeys of the picaro, Spanish for

Rogue, as he travels and mocks the society he refuses to take part in. La vida de

Lazarillo De Tormes, y de sus fortunas y adversidades, the foundational text for this genre of literature, was anonymously written in 1554 in Spain and set many of the stylistic conventions that influenced modern Picaresque novelists such as Mark

Twain, D.H Lawrence, Jack Kerouac, and Saul Bellow. This novel, which is Wilkinson 8 considered the first picaresque novel, tells the story of a young boy sold into servitude by his mother as he progresses throughout his life. The book was written as a sociopolitical critique: “Lazarillo is impregnated with a bitter tone that reflects the social situation of sixteenth-century Spanish society, where legislation regulated the systematic marginalization of ethnic minorities...” (Ardila 5). Lazarillo lambasted every rung of the Spanish hierarchy as the young picaro works his way from being the servant to a blind beggar, to the servant of a poor nobleman, to the servant of a friar. Child abuse is common as most of Lazarillo's masters regularly starve and beat him. There is also the strong implication that Lazarillo is sexually molested at the hands of the friar: “He gave me the first pair of shoes I ever went through in my life.

They didn’t even last me a week and I couldn’t take his trotting around anymore. I left him because of that and also because of one or two other things that I shan’t bother to mention” (Lazarillo De Tormes 47). In 1559 the book was placed on the

Inquisition’s index of banned books for its satirical messages, but this did nothing to hinder the book’s popularity (Ardila 1).

In order to facilitate my analysis of Thompson's work, I will utilize, as my foundation, the eight main characteristics of the Picaresque novel as identified and defined by Picaresque-Scholar Claudio Guillén. While Guillén's theory of the picaresque is not the only one aimed at defining the term “picaresque,” it is the foundational text that all other discussions of the picaresque, post 1961, refer to.

Guillén's essay “Toward a Definition of the Picaresque” not only discusses the difficulty in defining the term Picaresque, but provides the reader with a sort of Wilkinson 9 checklist for determining if a text belongs in the Picaresque genre. Guillén narrowed the definition of the picaresque novel down to eight defining characteristics that later theorists would further develop.

1.) The first characteristic of the Picaresque novel is the presence of the picaro. “The picaro both incorporates and transcends the wanderer, the jester, and the have-not... Our hero becomes a picaro through the lessons he draws from his adventures...” (Guillén 76-77). However, just because a protagonist travels, jokes and is destitute, that does not mean he should be considered a picaro. Guillén suggests that the role of the picaro is a more sophisticated one than some consider; the picaro is a hard-to-define outsider who, “...chooses to compromise and live on the razor's edge between vagabondage and delinquency. He can, in short, neither join nor actually reject his fellow men” (Guillén 80). In essence, the picaro is a conundrum; the picaro never fully settles down and joins his society, yet he cannot be a solitary hermit either. This is a characteristic that we often see in Thompson's work as the reader is often challenged to decide how to classify the narrator.

2.) The Picaresque narrative is a “pseudoautobiography.” The picaro narrates the story in first-person and hence, everything the reader is privy to in the story is the picaro's representation of those happenings. This filtration of the story often results in unreliable representations of the world the picaro is so apt to criticize (Guillén 81).

This is one of the predominant characteristics that Thompson utilized in his development of Gonzo Journalism: the reader’s awareness of the presence of the unreliable narrator. However, unlike the conventional picaresque, instead of having Wilkinson 10 facts skewed or left out due to the picaro's remembered experiences, Thompson would include hallucinatory visions as the event happened that thrusts the reader back into distrust.

3.) The picaro is never objective. As a result of the narrative being

“pseudoautobiogaphy”—as Guillén defines it—the Picaresque narrative will always be “partial and prejudiced” (Guillén 82). The entire picaresque tale has been reconstructed from the picaro’s memory; no aspect of the story remains unfiltered.

These filtered experiences help with one of the picaro's main functions, being a social critic. The picaro is often considered a rogue due to his actions and social status, which often results in the picaro being exceedingly critical of any person who is above the lower class. A recurring action in Thompson's picaresque narratives is the picaro's lack of money. Thompson's characters often have no money and rely on their acquaintances to come to their aid, acquaintances the picaro often criticizes for being

“wealthy.” While Guillén may describe this characteristic as “prejudiced,” I prefer to think of Thompson’s picaros as being predisposed to criticizing nearly everyone he comes into contact with; his narrators often criticize the various economic and social levels of American society of the 60s, from the hippies to the upper-class.

4.) The picaro is, in a sense, a philosopher. Thriving on the outskirts of his society, the picaro sees himself as qualified to make broad assertions about the nature of that observed society (Guillén 82). Thompson's picaros often have moments of clarity, or sobriety, amidst the chaos during which they reflect on the way the world Wilkinson 11 works, which helps further Thompson's picaros from the society they are currently partaking in.

5.) The fundamental material concerns of life—money and food—are always a present concern for the picaro. The picaresque novel originally appeared as a response to the popular, romantic Spanish novels of the time, so the pains of hunger and poverty were made abundantly clear. The goal of the classical picaresque novel was to present the world realistically (Guillén 83).

6.) The picaro, while refusing to participate in his society, does “observe a number of collective conditions: social classes, profession, caracteres, cities and nations. This rogues' gallery has been a standing invitation to satire” (Guillén 83). The picaro recognizes the existence of social structures, but mainly for the purpose of identifying the hypocritical nature of that structure in order to mock it. An epitome of this characteristic is present in Lazarillo De Tormes when the young picaro has a squire as a master. The squire dresses well and parades himself around town as someone important, but in reality, he is destitute, living in poverty and sends

Lazarillo to beg for food so they may survive. The squire serves as a mockery of the aristocracy in Spain during that time period, a destitute man who hides behind his fancy dress to feel important.

7.) Movement is a driving force in the picaro's journey. “The picaro in his odyssey moves horizontally through space and vertically through society... Thus, we find a narrative of travel and adventure” (Guillén 84). This is one of the most important and fundamental characteristic of the picaresque narrative; the picaresque Wilkinson 12 narrative is a story that is driven by movement. It does not have to be the act of traveling great distance, like the term “odyssey” implies, but there has to be consistent movement that progresses the story.

8.) The picaresque narrative is episodic. There is no driving plot to the story, nor does the picaro ever seem to grow or develop. In fact, the only thing that seems to connect the strands of story is the presence of the picaro (Guillén 84).

These are foundational characteristics of the classical picaresque genre that

Thompson would appropriate into his work, and are important to keep in mind as I progress through the analysis of Thompson's work. Thompson bends these characteristics and chose to exclude them as he saw fit, but a majority of these characteristics appear in his novels unadulterated—as I hope to show in the following chapters.

Other scholars have added and modified Guillén's definition of the picaresque, but all these additions just build off of the eight basic characteristics that Guillén set forth. Ulrich Wicks adds some important points in his book Picaresque Narrative,

Picaresque Fictions: A Theory and Research Guide. Mainly, Wicks identifies that the picaro often has “unheroic” traits, is “worse than we,” and “is on an eternal journey of encounters that allow him to be alternatively both victim of that world and its exploiter” (Wicks 54). This is a very important clarification that Guillén failed to mention; the picaro has questionable values. Because he refuses to participate fully in his society, he often refuses to respect the laws and ethics his society has agreed upon.

Guillén throws around the term rogue, but failed to discuss what that term actually Wilkinson 13 means. Guillén seems to utilize the definition of rogue that implies a sort of playfulness and youthfulness to the term, whereas Wicks utilizes the popular definition that the rogue is a “dishonest or unprincipled man,” (OED) which lends itself well to the fact that the picaro is often described as an antihero.

Wicks also stresses the existence of the natural rhythms that takes place within the picaresque narrative as a whole as well as within the episodic vignettes.

Specifically, Wicks identifies the circular, repetitive journey the picaro often has as

Sisyphean:

The narrative as a whole is a succession of such episodic rhythms. The

episodes individually and collectively illustrate the perpetual rhythm of

the picaresque, which is continuous dis-integration. The external

Sisyphus rhythm is consecutive, while the internal rhythm of each

episode is consequential; working together, they alternatively

harmonize the disharmonic and disharmonize the harmonic

(Wicks 55-56).

The picaresque's episodic structure results in a rhythm that Guillén fails to address.

Each episodic narrative in the picaresque novel is often self-contained and does not affect other episodes in the picaro's adventures. This repetitive self-containment creates a “harmonic” novel that has a circular rhythm. The term Sisyphean also implies that the picaro's journey is a never-ending loop—he may be able to adjust his circumstances, but in the end he is stuck in the repetitive situation. Wilkinson 14

In his essay “Episodic Structure and the Picaresque Novel,” S. Ortiz Taylor suggests that this rhythm is analogous to a beaded necklace, “itself potentially a circle, and composed of a given number of beads, also round, though each may be of different size, color, and texture. Between each bead is slight negative space, which we may take to represent the time which lapses between the conclusion of one episode and the beginning of another” (Taylor 218). Taylor also breaks down the repetitive episodic structure into four elements: entry, error, expulsion, and time lapse, as the picaro digresses from optimistic to isolated and introspective. Taylor claims that the picaro will enter a society, make an error—often the breaking of a social convention, or law—and be expelled from that society. The time lapse that Taylor identifies are the blank pages between episodes in the picaro's tale; the moments of the picaro's life that the reader is not privy to.

Wicks also suggests that this circular rhythmic form, told by the narrator, could also be seen as the picaro's secret “yearning for order,” (Wicks 49) a notion that implies that the picaro tries to make sense out of his chaotic tales. This circular rhythm is also present in the movement of the picaro as he shifts between being present in society and excluding himself from it, a constant battle that is only

“resolved finally by a kind of self-exclusion...” (61). This secret yearning for order also coincides with Wicks' claim that the goal of a picaro is to find a home, an impossible task due to the picaro's prior predisposition to exclusion. This argument, in a sense, provides the picaro a tragic flaw; the picaro is never able to be fully accepted back into any society because he has shirked it for so long, but—secretly—it's all he Wilkinson 15 desires. Wicks' assertion is an optimistic take on picaros; essentially, he attempts to provide the picaro with a sense of humanity, a flaw that goes against what some scholars such as Guillén have seen as the very ideals the picaro stands for. The concept of home is one that the picaro often discusses, as we’ll see in The Rum Diary, but finding a home is almost never the picaro's primary goal as Wicks theorizes.

Lately, the Picaresque narrative has been a widely debated topic by literary scholars from Spain to America. These debates often focus on pushing Guillén's definition further through the addition of characteristics. However as the genre develops and expands, there are scholars such as Daniel Eisenberg who argue that the

“true picaresque” narrative may not even be a genre that is definable. In his essay,

“Does the Picaresque Even Exist?,” Eisenberg argues that due to the lack of a solid canon, the picaresque is nearly impossible to define. He states, “since there is no body of similar works agreed to be picaresque novels, it is impossible to define this genre inductively; a large body of works would produce a very vague definition and a more specific one could only be supported by an extremely limited number of works”

( Eisenberg 207). Eisenberg has a valid point, to an extent. The Picaresque genre has been informally developing since Lazarillo was released almost 500 years ago, and the phrase “picaresque novel” only appeared in the late 1800s. The picaresque novel classification was not created until centuries later, so scholars had a plethora of

“picaresque novels” to consider. Eisenberg's issue is one that Guillén was addressing with his 1961 “Towards a Definition of the Picaresque,” and it was just that, a step towards the definition. In no way did Guillén claim to have the perfect definition of Wilkinson 16 the genre. The problem with Eisenberg's argument is that this is an issue that all genres face; it is nearly impossible to agree upon one concrete definition of any

genre, especially with a genre as old as the Picaresque.

The American Picaresque

The Picaresque genre would eventually be adopted and adapted by other nations outside of Spain. Wicks discusses this development: “By the middle of the seventeenth century, the picaresque was an international literary phenomenon as translations gave way to narrative attempts to perpetuate the genre while simultaneously integrating it with indigenous literary conditions and conventions”

(Wicks 13). Literature of the early American republic and the later 19th century was not excluded from this resurgence of the picaresque; James Fenimore Cooper, Mark

Twain and Herman Melville were all American novelists influenced by the stylistic conventions of the Spanish Picaresque.

American literary theorist and novelist William Dean Howells was a significant proponent of the picaresque. He claimed that all American authors could learn a great deal from the genre, and stated in his 1902 book Literature and Life:

I do not know that I should counsel others to do so, or that the general

reader would find his account in it, but I am sure that the intending

author of American fiction would do well to study the Spanish

picaresque novels; for in their simplicity of design he will find one

of the best forms for an American story (Howells 1902) Wilkinson 17

Howells asserts that the “simplicity” of the Picaresque structure would complement the American story of perseverance rather well. Specifically, Howells contended that the honesty of the picaresque narrative would allow for American novelists to capture the true nature of the young country. He also postulated that the traditional, romantic narrative form could not fully capture the true American landscape. “The intrigue of close texture will never suit our conditions, which are so loose and open and variable; each man's life among us is a romance of the Spanish model, if it is the life of a man who has risen, as we nearly all have, with many ups and downs” (Howells 1902).

Howells implies that the chaotic landscape of early America is perfectly suited for the picaresque narrative and that the story of the true “American” is in itself a picaresque tale. However, as Wicks stated, the American picaresque also added to the genre with the importance placed on the journey that takes place between the episodic adventures.

One of the fundamental concepts behind early American literature is the frontier. A majority of the picaros in the early American picaresque narratives had the same destination, the West. For these early American picaros, the West represented

“an almost infinite expanse of arable land capable of supporting a large population. It was potential wealth on an unprecedented scale” (Smith 6). The prosperous West, laced with promises of untold riches, was the mythical foundation of what so many authors would later refer to as the “American Dream.” The basis for the American

Dream was founded upon the principles of life, liberty, prosperity and the possibility of upward mobility. This concept of the American Dream would be defined by James Wilkinson 18

Truslow Adams in The Epic of America, “that dream of a land in which life should be better and richer and fuller for everyone, with opportunity for each according to ability or achievement” (Adams 404). Hunter S. Thompson would later aim a great deal of his criticism at this concept in his books, even subtitling Fear and Loathing in

Las Vegas, “a Savage Journey to the Heart of the American Dream” and The Gonzo

Papers, Vol.3 :Songs of the Doomed: More Notes on the Death of the American

Dream. The American Dream would become a goal for a vast number of the early

American picaros; the search for success and wealth would drive these rogues. In his writing, Thompson would later claim that this concept of the American Dream was dead.

Another concept that the American picaresque focuses on is the journey.

Unlike the traditional picaresque which often began with the picaro's entry into a society, the American Picaresque would include the journey as well. For American

Picaresque novelists such as Mark Twain, the journey that took place between a picaro's exit from a society and entry into a new one was just as important to the picaro's story as his interactions within his society. Janis Stout discusses this importance in her book The Journey Narrative in American Literature: Patterns and

Departures, “...the American literary tradition has been characterized to a remarkable and peculiar degree, by narratives and images of journeys. It has been a literature of movement” (Stout 3). For American picaros, it is the journey that ties the narrative together, not just the presence of the picaro. Wilkinson 19

One of the most popular examples of the American Picaresque is Twain's

Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, a significant influence on Hunter S. Thompson. Tom

Wolfe, a fellow proponent of subjective journalism, referred to Thompson as “the only twentieth-century equivalent of Mark Twain...” (Wolf quoted in Wenner). Even

Thompson identified this similarity in a 2001 interview, “I mean I see more of myself in Mark Twain than most of the New Journalists then, and that was the cream of the crop. It [Gonzo] was just a differentiation” (Thompson 483). Adventures of

Huckleberry Finn would utilize a majority of the Picaresque conventions.

Huckleberry Finn follows the young protagonist as he travels through the American

South with an escaped-slave named Jim. The novel is heavily reminiscent of

Lazarillo de Tormes; the protagonist is a young, trouble-making orphan who critiques the people he meets as he travels from town to town. The story begins as Huck “lit out” from his home in search of adventure. Twain utilizes the journey throughout the novel, and a majority of the chapters open with Finn traveling, “We went tip-toeing along a path amongst the trees...” (Twain 3), “It must a been close onto one o'clock when we got below the island at last, and the raft did seem to go mighty slow...” (47).

Twain often presents the journey between each sections—no matter how small—and makes the journey as important as the events that happen in various towns.

Huck Finn makes the decision to go on the road to escape from a society he sees as “repressive and devious” (Stout 33). Specifically, Huck is chasing the

American Dream in hopes of gaining sovereignty or absolute freedom from any governing forces. As a result of the events in The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, Huck Wilkinson 20 has already achieved financial success—having found 6,000 gold pieces in his adventure with Tom Sawyer—a fact he reminds the reader of on page one, but now his goal is to achieve freedom from the monotony and oppression he “suffers” from.

Stout refers to this specific type of journey as an “escape,” a journey that often has

“strong overtones of self-destruction... as well as a sense of futility or uncertainty”

(Stout 33). It seems fitting that this escape laced with futility and uncertainty is made by a young man uncertain of his own goals in life. Thompson's picaros often participate in the same type of escape journey, one to escape from a monotonous lifestyle.

Thompson’s Twain influences also include his adaptation of the juxtaposing an unreliable narrator with a journalistic style. Twain opens Adventures of

Huckleberry Finn with Finn acknowledging that he has been a character in The

Adventures of Tom Sawyer. “You don't know about me, without you have read a book by the name of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer,’ but that ain’t any matter. That book was made by Mr. Mark Twain, and he told truth, mainly. There was things which he stretched, but mainly he told the truth. That is nothing” (Twain 1). This intriguing dichotomy is one that Thompson enjoyed playing with; he would make his picaro, always a journalist charged with presenting the truth, an unreliable narrator—usually through the picaro's substance abuse.

Gonzo Journalism: The Picaresque Reclaimed

The American picaresque conventions set by 19th century American novelists who adapted the traditional picaresque would be adapted further by Hunter S. Wilkinson 21

Thompson to meet his own standards. One of Thompson's earliest articles, “The

Kentucky Derby is Decadent and Depraved,” would set the tone for the rest of his career. Thompson's editor at the time, Bill Cardoso, responded to the article, “I don't know what the fuck you're doing, but you've changed everything. It's totally gonzo”

(McKeen 149). With this letter, Thompson had found a name for his unique style.

Thompson would later claim that the concept of Gonzo was a response to the “fear and loathing” he consistently felt after the 60s as he watched the American Dream fall to shambles (Bruce-Novoa 39). Thompson would also add to this discussion in his book, Songs of the Doomed, “The phrase worked. It was like Gonzo. All of a sudden I had my own standing head. It started when I left Vegas for the first time, skipping the hotel bill, driving off in that red convertible all alone, drunk and crazy, back to L.A.

That's exactly what I felt. Fear and loathing” (Thompson 153).

Similar to Twain, Thompson had a penchant for opening his stories with the journey. His opening lines of “The Kentucky Derby is Decadent and Depraved,” start with travel, “I got off the plane around midnight and no one spoke as I crossed the dark runway to the terminal. The air was thick and hot, like wandering into a steam bath. Inside, people hugged each other and shook hands...big grins and a whoop here and there...” (Thompson 24). Thompson not only starts his narrative with the journey, but he also sets the first-person focus that would be a defining characteristic of his journalistic style.

Quickly after the introduction, Thompson depicts the picaro's lack of narrative credibility by getting him drunk. “I ordered a margarita with ice, but he wouldn't hear Wilkinson 22 of it: 'Naw, naw... what the hell kind of drink is that for Kentucky Derby time? What's wrong with you, boy?' He grinned and winked at the bartender. 'Goddamn, we gotta educate this boy. Get him some good whiskey...” (Thompson 25). The unreliable narrator would be one convention that Thompson would adapt for the time. Instead of having a picaro who admits his lying, the reader has to assume the unreliability as he/she watches the narrator abuse various substances.

In his Article, “Hunter S. Thompson's “Gonzo” Journalism and the Tall Tale

Tradition in America,” James E. Caron argues that Thompson's Gonzo style is an exaggerated version of the Tall Tale narrative—fables characterized by excess—that

Twain was fond of, exaggerated by Thompson's drug abuse:“...Thompson's reckless use of drugs can be related to the narrative technique as well as characterization since it provides a rationale for the disjointed quality that typifies Hunter S. Thompson's gonzo pieces...it helps explain why Dr. Thompson seemingly cannot remember everything that has occurred to him...Moreover, drug-taking allows for flashbacks, fantasies (paranoid and otherwise), and digressions of all sorts...”(Caron 5). While one of the fundamental characteristics of the Tall Tale is excess, Thompson adjusts this characteristic to be suitable for his time.

Literary Critic Jerome Klinkowitz describes some of the conventions of

Gonzo Journalism, “The quick cut, the strategic use of digression, the ability to propel himself through a narrative like a stunt driver, steering with the skids so that the most improbable intentions result in the smoothest maneuvers, the attitude of having one's personal craziness pale before contemporary American life - all of these elements Wilkinson 23 combine to define, as best one can, the peculiar energies unique to the Gonzo writer"

(Klinkowitz). Gonzo journalism is often characterized by quick, often violent, movement. This movement usually resulted in fragmented narratives, another convention borrowed from the picaresque. Gonzo was not just about fragmentation for Thompson, it was about the refusal to construct a straight, clean story that could be easily read. (Green 207). This fragmentation, while similar to the episodic structure of the picaresque narrative, refused to keep the clean, circular repetition that most classical picaresque narratives abide by. Wilkinson 24

CHAPTER 2: CROSSROADS: PICARESQUE ELEMENTS

IN THE RUM DIARY

Hunter S. Thompson began writing The Rum Diary in 1959 as he worked for an English-language newspaper in San Juan, Puerto Rico. Thompson, who was only twenty-two years-old, periodically revised The Rum Diary over the next decade, before shelving the novel in order to focus on perpetuating Gonzo journalism.

Thompson sold the novel to Random House, almost as—what Thompson called—a

“throw in,” when the company bought Thompson's Hell's Angels (Thompson 431).

Thompson included a few chapters of his first, now lost, novel Prince Jellyfish in

Generation of Swine, but The Rum Diary is the earliest full-length narrative that

Thompson has had published which makes it incredibly important to the study of

Thompson's style.

The novel captures the picaresque adventures of young, American journalist

Paul Kemp as he explores the beaches and alleys of San Juan in the 1950s. Heavily influenced by Thompson's own time in Puerto Rico, The Rum Diary captures the young rogue as he debates his future as a picaro, traveling from place to place. The novel also captures the picaro's almost compulsive worry over aging and his idolization of the foreign—for Kemp, any location is more appealing than the one he is currently living in. Wilkinson 25

The Picaro at Rest: Finding and Fighting Stability

At its heart, The Rum Diary is the tale of a picaro searching for the American

Dream abroad as he is torn between stability and chaos. The novel opens as Kemp leaves his New York apartment for his new job in San Juan, “I did some drinking there [the White Horse] on the night I left for San Juan...Then I got in Millick's cab and slept all the way to the airport” (Thompson 7). Thompson's opening sets up an interesting juxtaposition of movement and stability that he will revisit throughout the rest of the novel; in order to find stability, Kemp has to uproot and exile himself from his native land. This opening also utilizes some of the American Picaresque elements that Twain had used in Huck Finn.

Much like in Twain's Adventures of Huck Finn, Thompson starts a majority of his chapters with the journey. Kemp's journeys are small, and often contained to the city limits of San Juan, but these departures allow Kemp to explore and criticize

Puerto Rican society, a society that Kemp critiques as dependent on American money in order to survive yet one that boasts independence. Chapter one opens with Kemp's departure from New York, and a hectic plane ride where he is accused of beating an old man. This initial journey allows Kemp to meditate on the ragged confidence perpetuated by his travel, “I had a flash of something I hadn’t felt since my first months in Europe—a mixture of ignorance and a loose, 'what the hell' kind of confidence that comes on a man when the wind picks up and he begins to move in a hard straight line toward the unknown horizon” (Thompson 11). The concept of the

“unknown horizon” that Kemp ponders is peculiar since he is moving to San Juan Wilkinson 26 with the hope of stability. However, the idea of the picaro gaining confidence through lack of stability is a core principle of the picaro's journey.

Wicks theorizes that “the picaresque mode satisfies our impulse for a vicarious journey through chaos and depravity. In picaresque, we participate in the tricks essential to survival in chaos and become victims of the world's tricks” (Wicks 54). If we apply this theory to The Rum Diary, Kemp's job in San Juan is essentially a survival tactic. Kemp may have approached the job initially with hopes of stability, but through his microcosmic journeys in San Juan, marred by political corruption such as bribery and violence against Americans by the locals, the picaro longs for chaos. This dichotomy is one of the most interesting concepts Thompson proposes in the novel; the picaro may settle as a survival mechanism, but chaos will still surround him until he eventually forfeits his stability.

When the picaro is young and still debating the picaresque lifestyle, like

Kemp, his internal chaos peaks as he makes the decision to forgo stability. In his novel, The Picaresque Novel, Stuart Miller proposes that “The picaresque character is not merely a rogue, and his chaos of personality is greater than any purely moral chaos. It reflects a total lack of structure in the world, not merely a lack of ethical or social structure” (Miller 131). The picaro's world is one that is, in Miller's ideal, structureless and always in flux, just like our young picaro. Stout would later develop

Miller's theory further by stating that “the picaro's essential character trait is his inconsistency (of life roles, or self-identity), his own personality flux in the face of an inconsistent world” (Stout 60). Stout and Miller add to Guillén's theory by Wilkinson 27 deconstructing the role of the picaro even further; the picaro is not just a biased rogue, the picaro is an anti-heroic rogue who is prone to chaos as a result of his inner turmoil. In the case of Kemp, this theory works rather well because this inner turmoil is most noticeable in the young picaro.

Kemp discusses the uneasy balance between his two desires as he ends the preface to The Rum Diary, “I was a seeker, a mover, a malcontent, and at times a stupid hell-raiser. I was never idle enough to do much thinking, but I felt somehow that my instincts were right. I shared a vagrant optimism that some of us were making real progress...At the same time, I shared a dark suspicion that the life we were leading was a lost cause...kidding ourselves along on a senseless odyssey. It was the tension between these two poles—a restless idealism on one hand and a sense of impending doom on the other—that kept me going” (Thompson 5). Kemp foreshadows the issue that will plague him for the rest of the novel; the picaro's stability and idleness will make him question his ideals. At this moment the young picaro is starting to question the chaotic, episodic journey he has been living by for so long.

The stability that Kemp struggles with within the novel is his own doing.

When Kemp has moments of solitude, usually after he has been drinking heavily, he explores the picaro lifestyle he has forced himself into. Just as Wicks theorized, this self-doubt appears in the moments that our picaro secretly yearns for acceptance and stability. Wilkinson 28

...I was not quite ready to pack up and move on again...I had lost some

of my old zeal that had led me, in the past, to do what I damn well felt

like doing, with the certain knowledge that I could always flee the

consequences. I was tired of fleeing, and tired of having no cards. It

occurred to me one evening, as I sat by myself in Al's patio, that a man

can live on his wits and his balls for only so long. I'd been doing it for

ten years and I had a feeling that my reserve was running low

(Thompson 46-47).

The novel captures a vital moment in the picaro's life; Kemp's journey and crisis is the moment when the picaro must decide whether to continue with the chaos of the picaresque lifestyle or give up and rejoin society while it is still possible. Taylor proposed that the picaresque narrative was circular, always beginning and ending the same way, and—perhaps—the story of the picaro must end the same way. Either the picaro has to circle back to the society he has withdrawn from and remain there, or he must continue the Sisyphean picaresque lifestyle. Lazarillo and Huck Finn both returned to society eventually, Lazarillo more permanently than Huck, and if these archetypal picaros could not survive the Sisyphean lifestyle, how can Kemp? Kemp, in these moments of weakness, recognizes that he is at this decision and depending on the happenings, he sways back and forth. When alone and drunk, Kemp feels worn out and idolizes stability. When in the midst of chaos and action, Kemp longs for the road and the foreign. Wilkinson 29

As Kemp writes a story on Puerto Ricans leaving the island for other countries, he ponders his own journey. “It occurred to me that the real reason these people were leaving the island was basically the same reason I had left St. Louis and quit college and said to hell with all the things I was supposed to want—indeed, all the things I had a responsibility to want—to uphold, as it were...” (Thompson 59).

Kemp's initial journey from home was to avoid all of the imagined responsibilities he felt thrust upon him. More importantly, his exile is the only way a young Kemp can protest the social responsibilities he has no interest in participating in. Kemp additionally describes these responsibilities as “a rubber sack coming down on me...purely symbolic...the venal ignorance of the fathers being visited on the sons”

(59). This crushing stress of social responsibility often results in the picaro's first journey, a journey of exile in order to search for the American dream. This initial journey would be the same kind that Finn takes in Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, as the picaro feels trapped by obligations.

After a few months in San Juan, Kemp is offered a promotion as his boss sees

Kemp as the most stable of all the staff: “Who else is there? Moberg's a drunk,

Vanderwitz is a psycho, Noonan's a fool, Benetiz can't speak English...Christ! Where do I get these people?... I've got to have somebody!” (Thompson 66). For Lotterman,

Kemp's editor, Kemp is the most stable of the staff—an ironic point considering

Kemp's internal struggle. And Kemp's refusal of the promotion solidifies when

Lotterman states that as journalists they “have a responsibility! A free press is vital”

(66). The idea that Kemp has a “responsibility” to the newspaper frightens him and Wilkinson 30 goes against the freedom that Kemp has been working to obtain through his journey.

However, part of Kemp's journey is developing his role of a journalist—a career that affords Thompson's picaro a level of freedom he desires while supporting his lifestyle.

The picaro's journey requires him to take on many roles in order to survive.

For Lazarillo De Tormes, it was his ability to adapt his cunning to take advantage of his masters. For Kemp, it is his ability to present himself to his editor as a reliable writer. Because of the picaro's ability to role-play, Miller often referred to the picaro as “protean.” Miller goes on to theorize that “He[the picaro] assumes whatever appearance the world forces upon him, and this a-personality is typical of the picaresque world, in which appearance and reality constantly mingle, making definition and order disappear...the picaro is every man he has to be, and therefore no man” (Miller 70-71). The picaro must adopt multiple roles in order to survive, and as a result, the picaro gains some sense of stability; however as the picaro adopts the various roles, he loses his sovereignty, that is, the ability to govern himself and be free. The picaro feeds off chaos in order to maintain his sovereignty, but when the picaro adopts roles in order to survive, he sacrifices his sovereignty—to a degree.

Kemp maintains this role for an extended period of time, and as a result, seems to start appreciating this stability.

Kemp's longing for stability is often focused on his longing to settle down.

After spending too many nights sleeping at a friend's apartment—which Thompson describes as a “tomb”—Kemp decides that he needs a more stable situation. Wilkinson 31

A ten-year accumulation of these vagrant addresses can weigh on

a man like a hex... I decided to hell with it. If that was absolute

freedom then I'd had a bellyful of it, and from here on in I would

try something a little less pure and one hell of a lot more

comfortable. I was not only going to have an address, but I was

going to have a car, and if there was anything else to be had in the

way of large and stabilizing influences, I would have those too.

(Thompson 113)

This specific moment of longing comes as a result of Kemp's frustration with the deplorable living conditions that come with the picaresque lifestyle. After three months of living in San Juan, Kemp is beginning to enjoy the stability that comes as a side-effect of the journalist role he is playing. Kemp even takes this longing further by attempting to find a stable apartment and have a permanent address, something that goes against everything the picaro stands for. However, when Kemp is surrounded by fellow picaros, he changes his attitude and expresses his longing for the road.

Kemp's desire for the journey is often mirrored and accentuated by his best friend, Sala. Sala, the newspaper's photographer, understands Kemp's desire to get out of San Juan and when the two drink together, Kemp detests the stability he has gained. After one drinking bender with Sala, Kemp ponders, “It's still light in Mexico

City, I thought. I had never been there and suddenly I was overcome by a tremendous curiosity about the place. Several hours of rum, combined with my mounting distaste Wilkinson 32 for Puerto Rico, had me right on the verge of going into town, packing my clothes, and leaving on the first westbound plane” (Thompson 77). When drinking with fellow individuals with a penchant for journey, the urge to escape intoxicates Kemp. This debate is the main struggle the proto-picaro has to consistently deal with; Kemp longs for stability at moments, but when his friends romanticize the road, Kemp desires to run—of course this desire is fueled by the copious amount of alcohol. “'Who needs this place?' he shouted, 'Blow it off the goddamn face of the earth—who needs it?' I knew it was the rum talking, but after a while it began to talk for me too...I was ready to quit, myself. The more we talked about South America, the more I wanted to go there” (Thompson 63). After working for a few months and gaining some sort of stability, the young picaro sees the road as the only way to regain the sovereignty that drew him in the first place. This compulsive romanticizing of foreign destinations is one of the main points Thompson makes through his use of the picaresque narrative.

Just like the Puerto Ricans escaping the island to find a better life, the picaro is always looking for something better; for Kemp it was New York at first, then Puerto

Rico, and now—in Puerto Rico—it is South America. Kemp is always romanticizing the places he is not in. Once he arrived in Puerto Rico and got past the beaches and hotels, he saw the true nature of the city; a city torn apart from internal strife as a result of the ghost of colonialism. Within a month Kemp is idolizing the possibility of traveling around South America and continuing this vicious cycle of want.

Fighting stability is a necessity for the young picaro, as it is the only way that the picaro may gain sovereignty. While Kemp arrived in Puerto Rico in order to gain Wilkinson 33 the financial stability that is a part of the American Dream, his stability resulted in the loss of freedom, as he was no longer able to govern himself and was forced to answer to and placate his mentally unstable boss—essentially ruining another facet of the

American Dream. Rowland Sherrill discusses this need for sovereignty in Road-Book

America,

At best, the new American picaro, in fulfilling the picaresque

charter, moves beyond the narrative diagnosis into the regimen of

cure “on the road.” Learning to depopulate the self in order to

regain singular authority, learning the tactics to recover sovereign

response by skirting preformulations and meditations, they might

yet succumb from time to time to the temptations of self-

absorption...[Nevertheless] the best of them will come to realize

that they cannot remain within the fortress of adulatory self-

regard...” (Sherrill 107).

Kemp's idleness has stripped him of his picaro nature, and he must “cure” himself by resolving to travel. Sherill argues that this temporary setback is to be expected, as the picaro may occasionally surrender himself to the stability he must shirk for sovereignty. This uneasy balance is the focus of The Rum Diary, a balance that Kemp has become more aware of as he begins to get older. Wilkinson 34

The Unknown Horizon: The Picaro's Fear of Aging

Considering that the first picaresque novel was centered around a prepubescent boy, it seems unsurprising that a majority of the narrators in the picaresque narrative are young men. In the American picaresque, the youthfulness of the picaro plays an even more important role as the picaros are often searching for some aspect of the American Dream. However as the picaro reaches a certain point in his life, he becomes increasingly conscious of the effect of age on his lifestyle. Kemp, who has been living as a picaro for over a decade, begins to struggle with a heightened awareness of his aging.

Kemp notes that his journeys have served as a substitute for his education in the preface to The Rum Diary, “I made some interesting friends, had enough money to get around, and learned a lot about the world that I could never have learned in any other way” (Thompson 4). Kemp also made the point of noting that he fled from his hometown to avoid the responsibility of social conventions where he was growing up; namely, Kemp ran from college. This point is an intriguing one as the picaro is usually characterized by theorists such as Wicks, Stout, and Guillén as an unwavering, static figure; the picaro's goal is to offer criticism on the society he wanders through, not to better himself. However, the picaro's journey provides him an abundance of knowledge that he uses on his travels.

During his first month in Puerto Rico, Kemp makes friend with a fellow

American working for the paper named Yeamon. At first, Yeamon serves as a companion to Kemp; a fellow picaro making a brief stop, and often supports Kemp's Wilkinson 35 desire to escape. Later, Yeamon becomes the reason Kemp must escape Puerto Rico.

After seeing Yeamon, a successful coworker, having sex on the beach with his girlfriend—whom he would later steal—Kemp begins drinking and wonders to himself, “The scene I had just witnessed brought back a lot of memories—not of things I had done but of things I had failed to do, wasted hours and frustrated moments and opportunities forever lost because time had eaten so much of my life and I would never get it back. I envied Yeamon and felt sorry for myself at the same time, because I had seen him in a moment that made all my happiness seem dull”

(Thompson 37). This precarious moment in our picaro's journey shows a moment of reflection within the aging picaro. This moment of jealousy spurs an instant of self- reflection, an action that goes against the foundations of the picaresque narrative.

Kemp not only focuses on regrets about missed opportunities, but he also questions his happiness—whether this is happiness as a result of stability or chaos is undefined.

Seeing a fellow picaro, of similar age, having a shred of stability that Kemp has noted longing for—a girlfriend—has made Kemp aware of a lack in his life and of lost time.

As Kemp settles down in Puerto Rico and gains stability through his job and social network, he becomes increasingly aware of the passing of time, “Whenever I thought of time in Puerto Rico, I was reminded of those old magnetic clocks that hung on the walls of my classroom in high school. Every now and then a hand would not move for several minutes—and if I watched it long enough, wondering if it had finally broken down, the sudden click of the hand jumping three or four notches would startle me when it came” (Thompson 101). The stability that Kemp achieves in Wilkinson 36

Puerto Rico as a result of his idleness makes the passing of time more surprising. The analogy of the magnetic clock is a just comparison, and suggests that Kemp notices the slowing of time. The picaro is more susceptible to this slowing because it is a stark contrast to the hectic lifestyle the picaro has grown accustom to. Since the picaro's adventures are usually fast-paced and energetic—a notion that Thompson fully captures in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas—the time Kemp spends stagnant in

San Juan, makes age a concern that the picaro had previously ignored.

After Yeamon reveals plans to escape Puerto Rico and head to South America,

Kemp wonders whether or not he can keep up the picaresque lifestyle,

They were going to South America... It gave me a strange feeling,

and the rest of the night I didn't say much, but merely sat there

and drank, trying to decide if I was getting older and wiser or just

plain old. The thing that disturbed me most was that I really

didn't want to go to South America. I didn't want to go

anywhere...down in my gut I wanted nothing more than a clean

bed and a bright room and something solid to call my own at

least until I got tired of it. There was an awful suspicion in my

mind that I'd finally gone over the hump, and the worth thing

about it was that I didn't feel tragic at all... (Thompson 120-121)

These recurring moments of self-doubt as a result of aging provides a great deal of validity to Sherrill's theory of the picaro's temporary wavering. While these moments present the picaro in a precarious light—as he breaks the cardinal picaresque Wilkinson 37 foundations—Sherrill's theory assures us that the picaro will eventually return to his picaresque journey. In the end, that is exactly what Kemp does.

As Kemp decides to go back on the road for various reasons, including the collapse of the newspaper, he has one more reflective conversation with his coworker,

Sala.

“Kemp,” he said, “I feel a hundred years old.”

“How old are you?” I said. “Thirty? Thirty-one?”

“Thirty,” he said quickly. “I was just thirty last month.”

“Hell,” I replied. “Imagine how old I feel--I'm almost thirty-two.”

He shook his head. “I never thought I'd live to see thirty... I hope

to God I never make forty—I wouldn't know what to do with

myself”

“You might,” I said. “We're over the hump, Robert. The ride gets

pretty ugly from here on in.” (Thompson 204).

The last conversation Kemp has with his best friend is a somber one focused on the futility involved in aging. The conversation also implies that the lifestyle of the picaro is much more demanding. This demanding lifestyle may be the cause for the picaro's temporary search for stability, and it is after this temporary attempt at stability that the picaro must decide whether to continue on with his lifestyle or settle down. Kemp's story ends with his escape, because every aspect of his life in San Juan that provided him stability has collapsed. With the paper dead, and his friends fleeing, Kemp has no Wilkinson 38 other option than to return to the picaresque lifestyle he has been maintaining for the last decade.

While Thompson's breaks many of the conventional characteristics of the picaro in this narrative, the picaresque mode remains intact. Thompson utilizes the first-person, episodic narrative to recount Kemp's journey, and while Kemp may not fit the archetypal picaro, he is an accurate depiction of the picaro in limbo. It is this unique representation of the picaro that makes The Rum Diary so important to the picaresque novel; in the hundreds of years the picaresque novel has been around there has never been an in-depth depiction of the picaro at unease. While this is the earliest of Thompson's works, it is one of the most sophisticated narratives of the modern

American picaro. Wilkinson 39

CHAPTER 3: FEAR AND LOATHING: KEROUAC AND THOMPSON'S

MODERN AMERICAN PICARO

Hunter S. Thompson wrote what many consider his masterpiece—and his most famous novel—Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas as a fictionalized account of a weekend spent in Vegas with his close friend, Oscar Zeta-Acosta in 1970. While many critics would argue that Fear and Loathing is the epitome of Thompson's

Gonzo Journalism, the author viewed his book as a “failed experiment in Gonzo

Journalism”(Thompson 208; emphasis in text). Thompson identified his goals for the novel in the “Jacket Copy for Fear & Loathing...” as “...to buy a fat notebook and record the whole thing, as it happened, then send in the notebook for publication— without editing. That way, I felt, the eye & mind of the journalist would be functioning as a camera. The writing would be selective & necessarily interpretive— but once the image was written, the words would be final...” (Thompson 208).

Thompson's unfulfilled goal to produce a truthful, unedited account of his time in

Vegas was a monumental task, but Thompson called the product of this account as unprintable. Thompson makes a point to note that, “The American print media are not ready for this kind of thing yet” (Thompson 209).

One of the main goals of Thompson's Gonzo journalism is the blending of facts and fiction, and even though Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas was based on

Thompson's travels, he repeatedly stressed the fact that the characters were not true representations of Acosta and himself. Thompson reflected on the need for a fictionalized structure after identifying the novel as a failed experiment, “...I found Wilkinson 40 myself imposing an essential fictional framework on what began as a piece of straight/crazy journalism...As true Gonzo Journalism, this doesn't work at all—and even if it did, I couldn't possibly admit it. Only a goddamn lunatic would write a thing like this and claim it was true” (Thompson 209-210). The fictional framework that

Thompson provides his novel may have resulted in its disqualification as “true”

Gonzo Journalism, but the text is still an excellent example of the picaresque narrative. In later letters to his editor at Random House, Thompson acknowledged that he abstained from drug use his entire Vegas trip and stressed the unimportance of classifying the work as fiction or journalism, “In theory, all literature & even journalism should be taken on its own intrinsic merits—above & beyond (or even below) the confusing contexts of whatever reality surrounded the act of writing”

(Thompson 420). For Thompson, the mythical reality that surrounded his 1970 Vegas journey should not be the point that resounds with his readers. The misinterpretation of Raoul Duke, the protagonist in Fear and Loathing, as a self-portrait of Thompson would be a constant battle that would plague Thompson for the rest of his life.

However, this confusion was due—in part—to the novel itself; at several vital moments in the novel, Duke is referred to and addressed as Thompson. While the novel may not be the intended “true Gonzo Journalism” masterpiece Thompson was aiming for, it is an excellent example of Thompson's use of the picaresque narrative tradition. Wilkinson 41

Adulation, Inward Criticism, and Uncertainty: The Picaresque Variation of Kerouac's

On the Road

As Thompson corresponded with his editor over the failed experiment that was Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, he made a specific comparison of his novel to

Jack Kerouac's On the Road, a picaresque novel that greatly influenced Thompson's writing. It was Kerouac's bastardization of the picaresque narrative in On the Road that would influence Thompson's embracing of the picaresque style. While discussing the idea of subjective journalism, Thompson discusses Kerouac as an example,

“Probably the first big breakthrough on this front was Jack Kerouac's On the Road—a long rambling piece of personal journalism that the publisher (Viking) called “fiction” because if they'd said it was “journalism” no Literary critic would touch it”

(Thompson 421). While Thompson would later critique the bulk of Kerouac's novel as “shit,” On the Road's fictionalized, journalistic style influenced Thompson and furnished him proof that this “new” style could be publishable.

Kerouac, supposedly, began writing On the Road over the period of three weeks in April 1951 on one consecutive scroll that he had fashioned himself by taping together rolls of teletype paper. In recent years, the scroll has become an oddity and is regularly toured across the nation, a fitting monument to the work of Kerouac. The novel would be edited numerous times and published in its final form in 1957, and receive a plethora of rave reviews from American literary critics. In his New York

Times column, “Books of the Times,” reviewer Gilbert Millstein hailed the novel as

“...the most beautifully executed, the clearest and most importance utterance yet made Wilkinson 42 by the generation Kerouac himself named years ago as “beat” and whose principal avatar he is” (Millstein 1957). This review effectively appointed Kerouac as the official speaker of the “beat” movement, and propelled him into a wary stardom.

On the Road is the personal narrative of Sal Paradise as he makes multiple journeys across 1940s America with his friend, Dean Moriarty. The journeys that Sal undertakes are quests for understanding, and unlike the traditional picaresque narrative, the picaro's goal is to “find” himself—a goal that disqualifies Sal from being a “true” picaro. Wicks discusses this disqualification by identifying Sal as a

“would-be picaro who can only enact picaresque being though vicarious experience and the narrative recapitulation of it; he cannot be a picaro, and thus there is a certain wistful hero worship to Sal's tone that is atypical of the picaro” (Wicks 277). The novel is a picaresque narrative told from the point of view of a man attempting to be a picaro. While Sal effectively utilizes the picaresque mode, his compulsive need to better himself goes against a foundational picaro characteristic. As an effect, it is

Dean Moriarty who is the true picaro of On the Road. However, Sal's journey is so closely intertwined with Dean's that the picaro's journey vicariously becomes Sal's.

Sal's journeys are circular, and never ending; when Sal is home, living with his aunt, he yearns for the road until he eventually sets out in search of Dean. Sal even recognizes Dean as the reason behind his initial escape, “With the coming of

Dean Moriarty began the part of my life you could call my life on the road...Dean is the perfect guy for the road because he actually was born on the road” (Kerouac 1).

For Sal, these journeys are not a way of living; his journeys are temporary escapes Wilkinson 43 before the necessity of stability drives Sal home. Where Thompson's picaros thrived on the chaos—similar to Dean—Sal aims the criticism of his journey towards himself. Within a few days of his journey, Sal begins reflecting inwards, “...I looked at the cracked high ceiling and really didn't know who I was for about fifteen strange seconds. I wasn't scared; I was just somebody else, some stranger, and my whole life was a haunted life, the life of a ghost. I was halfway across America, at the dividing line between the East of my youth and the West of my future” (Kerouac 15). While this moment of reflection resembles Kemp's moments of wonder in The Rum Diary, it is the sustained questioning of self that breaks one of Guillén's foundational characteristics of the picaro. Meanwhile, Sal's description—almost mythologizing— of Dean presents a representation of a genuine picaro creating chaos from coast to coast.

Sal first presents Dean as a mythical figure, a man he has only ever heard stories of. After becoming friends, Sal describes Dean as a “simply a youth tremendously excited with life, and though he was a con-man, he was only conning because he wanted so much to live and get involved with people who would otherwise pay no attention to him” (Kerouac 4). Dean—by Sal's description—is a rogue who utilizes role-playing as a survival tactic while refusing to join society making him, by definition, a picaro. Sal also recognizes Dean as a symbol for the

West, “...Dean's intelligence was every bit as formal and shining and complete, without the tedious intellectualness. And his “criminality” was not something that sulked and sneered; it was a wild yea-saying overburst of American joy; it was Wilkinson 44

Western, the west wind, an ode from the Plains. Something new, long prophesied, long a-coming” (Kerouac 6). The short time the two young men spent together would result in Sal's chasing and, to an extent, idolizing of Dean. Wicks comments on this idolization as “adulation...tinged with adolescent infatuation” (Wicks 278). With

Dean, Kerouac has created an honest representation of the picaro; he has created the picaro as an almost mythological figure, because the picaro is a figure grounded in fiction and shrouded in mystery—what Miller referred to as “no man.” Thompson played with this mythologizing of the picaro with Duke, a man no one really knows or fully understands.

While Kerouac's picaro is not the narrator of the events, the novel does abide by many of the other foundational picaresque foundations. Sherrill would categorize

On the Road as an example of American Travel Writing, a genre that possesses picaresque attributes such as “loose itinerary,” “'episodic, picaresque' movement” melded with a sense of “solitariness” (Sherrill 60). Wicks would further define the novel as “...a variation with, rather than a variation in, the picaresque narrative tradition” (Wicks 278). Reminiscent of Twain, Kerouac dedicates a great deal of the novel to the journey. Kerouac savors Sal's struggle to survive as he travels from place to place and draws these moments out to a point where they last longer than Sal's time in cities. The moments where Sal is penniless and stranded in strange towns are opportunities for Sal to embrace the disjointed, chaotic picaro lifestyle. Instead, Sal responds to these chaotic moments by reflecting on his failures and admits defeat by Wilkinson 45 yearning for home. During one moment, after spending the night in a train station, Sal ponders:

Then comes the day of the Laodiceans, when you know you are

wretched and miserable and poor and blind and naked, and with the

visage of a gruesome grieving ghost you go shuddering through

nightmare life. I stumbled haggardly out of the station; I had no more

control. All I could see of the morning was a whiteness like the

whiteness of the tomb” (Kerouac 106).

This moment, where Sal has nothing, is a chance for him to critique Post-World War

II America and the culture of necessity, want and consumerism that is he is rebelling against through his travels, but instead he admits defeat through his lack of control.

Sal's reference to a bible verse of the Laodiceans is interesting as well because the

Laodiceans used the words “poor,” “blind,” and “naked,” in order to criticize the wealthy; the terms Sal would later use to critique his own failures.

The Drugs Take Duke: Narcotics in the Picaresque

Kerouac's novel added many facets to the modern American picaresque narrative, but none more important to Thompson's work than Kerouac's realistic presentation of drug use. While Sal may drink in excess during moments of his journey, it is his companions who utilize narcotics to facilitate their rebellion. In her book Crack Wars: Literature, Addiction, Mania, American philosopher Avital Ronell theorized that “Drugs are excentric. They are animated by an outside already inside. Wilkinson 46

Endorphins relate internal secretion to the external chemical” (Ronell 29). The use of drugs in the modern picaresque allows characters to externalize internal thought processes that could not otherwise be expressed; in a sense, drugs act as a means for catharsis in the picaros—a chance for the picaro to embrace chaos through chemical change. Aldous Huxley would also comment on the reasoning for drug use as an escape in The Doors of Perception, “That humanity at large will ever be able to dispense with Artificial Paradises seems very unlikely. Most men and women lead lives at the worst so painful, at the best so monotonous, poor and limited that the urge to escape, the longing to transcend themselves if only for a few moments, is and always has been one of the principal appetites of the souls” (Huxley 30). Just like the picaresque journey itself, Huxley recognizes drug use as an escape from monotony.

Thompson creates a drug narrative in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas that lends itself well to the upkeep of the traditional chaotic, episodic moment of the picaresque novel.

In On the Road, Sal eventually arrives at the house of Old Bull Lee, a picaro who has succumbed to stability and old age. Lee no longer has the energy or means to continue the picaresque lifestyle and habitually abuses drugs to retain a sense of chaos. Sal describes Bull as having a “sentimental streak about the old days in

America...when you could get morphine in a drugstore without prescription and

Chinese smoked opium in their evening windows and the country was wild and brawling and free, with abundance and any kind of freedom for everyone” (Kerouac

144). Lee's journey had been characterized by a search for unadulterated freedom— Wilkinson 47 one of the foundations of the American Dream. Duke searches for this same kind of freedom in Vegas, a town that Duke sees as the mecca for habitual drug users. And in the same way that the journey has become a compulsive addiction for Thompson's picaros, drugs have become a crippling addiction for Lee.

Duke utilizes many hallucinogenic drugs on his journey to strip away the veil of society and critique, whereas Lee has developed a fondness for heroin. Sal comments on Lee's scheduled “fix.”: “Bull was in the bathroom taking his fix, clutching his old black necktie in his teeth for a tourniquet and jabbing with the needle into his woesome arm with the thousand holes” (Kerouac 148). While Lee uses drugs to regain chaos, he has developed a dependency on them that strips him of his freedom; Lee, the former picaro, is now only a servant to his addiction. However, in a moment of sobriety (or clarity), Lee is able to warn Sal of his picaro friend. Lee recognizes Sal's adulation of and infatuation with Dean and provides Sal with this warning, “He seems to me to be headed for his ideal fate, which is compulsive psychosis dashed with a jigger of psychopathic irresponsibility and violence... If you go to California with this madman you'll never make it out alive” (Kerouac 147). Lee knows about the chaos the picaro leaves in the wake of his travels, and is concerned for the well-being of Sal, the imagined picaro. Lee sees the imagined picaro as a possible casualty of the picaro, almost in the same vein of casualties that Duke would leave in the aftermath of his journey.

The opening line of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas is one of Thompson's most famous. Thompson opens the novel, “We were somewhere around Barstow on Wilkinson 48 the edge of the desert when the drugs began to take hold” (Thompson 3). Just like

Twain and Kerouac, Thompson begins his picaresque narrative with movement; the opening car scene—just like the plane scene in The Rum Diary—sets the pacing for the rest of the novel. However, in contrast to Kerouac, Thompson's writing was not fueled by drugs, but are a significant part of the story. John Long, author of Drugs and the 'Beats': The Role of Drugs in the Lives and Writings of Kerouac, Burroughs and Ginsberg, asserts that the quick, fragmented style of On the Road was due, in part, to Kerouac's use of amphetamines. He comments that “The style is more alive; the sentences are either very short like interjections, or complex and barely respecting the constraints of punctuation. The influence of amphetamines is especially obvious in the 'speed' or 'rush' that contributes greatly to the quality of the book” (Long 222).

This short, quick-paced style of Kerouac is another major stylistic foundation that

Thompson would identify as a major influence.

As Duke continues his narration, the drugs solidify their grasp and the pace speeds up, “It was almost noon, and we still had more than a hundred miles to go.

They would be tough miles. Very soon, I knew, we would both be completely twisted.

But there was no going back, and no time to rest. We would have to ride it out”

(Thompson 3). In her essay, “Narrative Speed in Contemporary Fiction,” Kathryn

Hume argues that the quickened pace present in a majority of modern narratives assists in the creation of fragmentation. She asserts that this level of speed subjects the reader to “.. a breathless sense that events are hurtling past too quickly for real understanding. Scenes and focal figures change rapidly, and helpful transitions are Wilkinson 49 missing. The resultant feeling of excessive rapidity...” (Hume 105). Hume's description of the effects of narrative speed mirrors the effects of the episodic, picaresque structure—a structure Guillén effectively compared to a “freight train.”

Or, perhaps, the quick narrative speed is the result of the fragmented, episodic journey. Hume would also propose that one of the effects of this style on its readers is an occasion for escape:

As readers, we subject ourselves to these experiences of

vulnerability and loss of control for a variety of reasons. We may

temporarily enjoy being lost in a funhouse, and bewilderment can

supply that frisson of being lost while not posing so much threat

as to drive us away from the book. .. We may welcome a new

experience of the sense of transgressing. Even the most logical

and controlled readers may enjoy vicarious fragmentation of

mind; such readers might not risk drugs in real life, but may be

curious. (Hume 121).

The quick, episodic journey not only presents a fragmented narrative, but also results in the feeling of fragmentation in its reader; this fragmentation may—if we follow

Hume—result in a sense of wonder in the reader with a mild tinge of euphoria.

Thompson would later play with the concept of fragmentation as a result of drug abuse by creating an episode of the journey that even Duke cannot remember due to a blackout. Chapter nine is accompanied by an Editor's note which reads, “At this point in the chronology, Dr. Duke appears to have broken down completely; the Wilkinson 50 original manuscript is so splintered that we were forced to seek out the original tape recording and transcribe it verbatim” (Thompson 161). The resulting fragmentation, a function of the lost time, is reflective of Thompson's rebellion against stability. While the episodic nature of the picaresque genre helped facilitate fragmentation, the very nature of the narrator's tale is where the fragmentation begins.

Like the traditional picaresque, Thompson's narrative combines two different picaro selves. Wicks identified these different types of narrators as “an experiencing

“I” and a narrating “I,” or between a remembered “I” and a remembering “I”: the narrator is quite literally remembering the dis-membered” (Wicks 57). Duke's narration is a juxtaposition of current and past experiences, both being narrated from a later time; this layering of time and narratives not only creates a complex, fragmented story, but it also affords the picaro an opportunity to rewrite his journey in order to perpetuate his picaro role. The “remembered” I is the picaro's opportunity to edit his tale and maintain his biased, prejudiced voice. Duke's drug use adds another layer to the narrative, as he is trying to capture a “remembered I” who cannot fully recall his journey.

Duke continues his narrative as he lists the plethora of drugs he brings along his journey, “The trunk of the car looked like a mobile police narcotics lab. We had two bags of grass, seventy-five pellets of mescaline, five sheets of high-powered blotter acid, a salt shaker half full of cocaine, and a whole galaxy of multi-colored uppers, downers, screamers, laughers...and also a quart of tequila, a quart of rum, a case of Budweiser, a pint of raw ether and two dozen amyls” (Thompson 4). This Wilkinson 51 overabundance of drugs foreshadows the various adventures yet to come, but also provides the picaro a way to increase his tale's subjectivity. The sheer amount of narcotics that Duke and Dr. Gonzo, his attorney, feel the need to bring along on their trip is excessive and serves as an act of rebellion. In his essay, “High Off the Page:

Representing Drug Experience in the Work of Jack Kerouac and Allen Ginsberg,”

Erik Mortenson theorizes that the drugged body itself serves as a political message in the work of Modern Counterculture writers such as William S. Burroughs, Jack

Kerouac, Allen Ginsberg, and Ken Kesey (Mortenson 57). At one point in the novel, as Duke and Gonzo arrive to cover the Drug Convention, Duke stresses that “our very presence would be an outrage” (Thompson 109). The drugged body has become a message in itself for Duke; there is no better way to mock law enforcement than by just showing up.

For Kerouac, presenting youth who would rather drink and shirk responsibility than better themselves served as a way to critique the social norms of his times that propagated the idea that financial stability and a college education made a man happy.

In the same vein, Thompson places his character in the midst of a severe drug binge as he searches for the American Dream, a juxtaposition that helps facilitate the social criticisms that the picaro makes. While Kerouac criticized the prescribed path to success through Sal, Thompson focused his criticisms on the death of the '60s counterculture, the rise of Nixon and Vietnam, and the government's condemnation of drugs. Wilkinson 52

The placement of a hallucinating drug abuser at the center of the search for the

American Dream creates an interesting predicament. Duke and Gonzo make it their primary objective to take every drug they have brought on this trip in rapid succession, when their original, intended goal was to find the American Dream. As

Duke heads for Vegas with his Attorney and a hitchhiker the two had picked up along the way, Duke stresses, “...our trip was different. It was a classical affirmation of everything right and true and decent in the national character. It was a gross, physical salute to the fantastic possibilities of life in this country—but only for those with true grit” (Thompson 18). For Duke, the only logical way to find the American Dream is to embrace the rogue identity and try to manifest his inner-chaos in a physical manner for all to see. His drugged body is the picaro's chaos-incarnate, and furthermore, a symbol he will proceed to flaunt all over Vegas as a sign of pure, unadulterated freedom.

At one point in the narrative, as the two men find themselves at Circus-Circus, a casino that Duke describes as “what the whole hep world would be doing on

Saturday night if the Nazis had won the war,” (Thompson 46), Gonzo has a horrible reaction to some mescaline, and feels the urge to flee:

'I hate to say this,' said my attorney as we sat down at the Merry-

Go-Round Bar on the second balcony, 'but this place is getting to

me. I think I'm getting the Fear.' 'Nonsense,' I said. 'We came out

here to find the American Dream, and now that we're right in the

vortex you want to quit.' I grabbed his bicep and squeezed. 'You Wilkinson 53

must realize,' I said, 'that we've found the main nerve.' 'I know,'

he said. 'That's what gives me the Fear.' The ether was wearing

off, the acid was long gone, but the mescaline was running

strong. (Thompson 47-48).

After days of excessive drug abuse, the two have recognized the potential fruition of their goal; they have managed to run amok in Vegas for days without any threat of punishment—essentially gaining a sense of sovereignty as they do not have to answer for their crimes—a fact that frightens Gonzo. This possible arrival at the “vortex” of the American Dream and freedom does not affect Duke as prominently due to his picaro nature; Duke is prone to chaos, and embraces it. Finding complete sovereignty, the ability to govern the self, is settling for the picaro, but for the non-picaro it is a frightening realization that drives him back to stability.

The hallucinatory visions and adventures of Duke also serve a narrative function as well as they drive the progression of the story. Most chapters open with

Duke arriving at some new scene in Vegas, with a head full of drugs and a hunger for chaos, “...I was not entirely at ease drifting around the casinos on this Saturday night with a car full of marijuana and a head full of acid. We had several narrow escapes: at one point I tried to drive the Great Red Shark into the laundry room of the Landmark

Hotel” (Thompson 42). Each episode for Duke is the Sisyphean rhythm on a miniscule scale: Duke arrives at a casino, offers criticisms of American excess through hallucinations, the trip goes bad, and is subsequently ejected from said Wilkinson 54 casino. This rhythm maintains throughout the entirety of the novel until Duke eventually escapes Vegas and gets back on the road.

Moments of Clarity: The Mourning of the 1960's

While the drug abuse in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas helps perpetuate picaresque functions of the novel such as the episodic narrative and allows Duke to gain sovereignty through chaos, it is Duke's brief moments of quiet sobriety that allow him to ponder the death of the American Dream. This reflection and criticism of the society the picaro refuses to join is one of the picaro's primary objectives; the figure of the picaro affords authors the ability to critique a society from an outsider's point of view.

Duke's search for the American Dream is not his primary source for criticism.

Instead, his search for the American Dream acts as a sort of facade or cover; he tells everybody he meets that he is “Searching for the American Dream,” to the point that this phrase almost becomes a defense mechanism. In the later portion of the novel,

Duke and Gonzo will even begin to mock their “search,” as they aimlessly drive around Las Vegas asking random people where they can find the American Dream,

Att'y: ...We're looking for the American Dream and we were told

it was somewhere in this area...

Waitress: Hey Lou, you know where the American Dream is?

Att'y (to Duke): She's asking the cook if he knows where the

American Dream is. Wilkinson 55

Waitress: Five tacos, one taco burger. Do you know where the

American Dream is?

(Thompson 164).

For Duke, the search for the American Dream is no longer an important goal and maybe it never was. The apparent absence of the American Dream facilitates Duke's social criticisms; if he came out to Vegas and found the American Dream, his tale would end. Searching for a concept that seemingly no longer exists maintains the picaro's never-ending journey. In his essay, “A Journey to the Postmodern Capital of the American West...” David Rio Raigadas proposes that the “book may be defined as a literary parody of the archetypal quest for the American Dream. In fact, this quest soon becomes a mere survival trip, where his protagonist resorts to black humor to mock long-standing American values and archetypes, exposing them as self- deceptions. Thompson even inverts the traditional direction of such a quest”

(Raigadas 125). For Duke, the trip serves as an embittered way to mock the American

Dream. The American Dream was never a reality that existed for Duke, it was just a foundation to ground his journey and perpetuate his biting critique of American culture that he deemed excessive in its greed, and grotesque in its hedonism—an ironic critique considering Duke’s own hedonism. The search for the American

Dream acts a facade for Duke to hide his true intentions.

While Duke supposedly searches for the American Dream, he constantly provides social criticisms aimed at various topics; however, there is no topic more reflected on and criticized than the death of 1960s counterculture. Fear and Loathing ­ Wilkinson 56 takes place in “the foul year of our lord” 1971; Richard Nixon was president, the

Vietnam War was still raging, and the hippy counterculture movement of the '60s had burned out. In Duke's moments of sobriety, he often reflects on the demise of all the ideals that came with the '60s. At one moment in the novel, as Gonzo is locked in the bathroom to deal with a bad trip, Duke—in a rare moment of quiet—begins to reflect.

However, unlike Sal Paradise, Duke does not reflect on himself or his lifestyle, but instead on the demise of the '60s:

Strange memories on this nervous night in Las Vegas. Five years

later? Six? It seems like a lifetime, or at least a Main Era—the

kind of peak that never comes again. San Francisco in the middle

sixties was a very special time and place to be a part of. Maybe it

meant something. Maybe not, in the long run... but no

explanation, no mix of words or music or memories can touch

that sense of knowing you were there and alive in that corner of

time and the world. Whatever it meant... (Thompson 66)

This passage provides us a brief background on Duke, but it also legitimizes his criticisms. He acknowledges his presence during the '60s in San Francisco (the mecca of the counterculture movement) which gives him a degree of authority on the topic.

He also stresses that he still does not know whether or not that movement had any affect on American society, but in true picaro form, that is not what matters—what matters is the fact that he was there in the chaos, and thanks to the chaos and freedom, it was the perfect place for a picaro. Wilkinson 57

In another moment of sobriety, as Duke sits in his car in a casino parking lot, he ponders how the counterculture of the '60s died:

….here in “our own country”--in this doomstruck era of Nixon.

We are all wired into a survival trip now. No more of the speed

that fueled the Sixties. Uppers are going out of style. This was the

fatal flaw in Tim Leary's trip...All those pathetically eager acid

freaks who thought they could buy Peace and Understanding for

three bucks a hit. But their loss and failure is ours, too.

(Thompson 178).

This criticism that Duke places on the counterculture movement is very interesting, because it implies that the death of the counterculture movement and the death of the

American Dream were caused by the same thing: idolization. Thompson asserts that the Tim Leary-following youth participating in the counterculture movement idolized freedom and attempted to achieve enlightenment through drug abuse so when the movement got difficult, and opposition rose, they faltered. The American Dream died in almost the same way; the people idolized and glorified it to the point where it was never achievable.

There is also an interesting issue that Duke raises in these reflections by implying that he was a part of the movement. Joining a cultural movement could imply a sense of stability, a concept that the picaro is to avoid at all costs, however, the movement Duke identifies with is one that embraced a lifestyle reminiscent of the picaros. Duke uses “we,” and “our,” when describing the countercultural movement Wilkinson 58 which implies a sense of belonging. The failed movement was one aimed at perpetuating freedom, a goal the picaro shares. And, perhaps, that is why this failure is the focus of Duke's criticism; the failure of the movement was a failure of the picaresque lifestyle. In his book, The Hippie Narrative: A Literary Perspective on the

Counterculture, Scott MacFarlane asserts that the hippie underground and counterculture authors—such as Thompson—had the same core Bohemian principles.

With their anti-authoritarian stance, both groups aimed to achieve freedom from the governing rules of American society and embrace rebellion through drug use and the refusal to contribute to what they deem an oppressive society (MacFarlane 10).

In another moment, as Duke flees Vegas after amassing a gargantuan room service bill, he stops and reads the paper. Thompson's inclusion of new stories such as

“Trio Rearrested in Beauty's Death,” “GI Drug Deaths Claimed,” and “Torture Tales

Told in Washington,” allows Duke to assert, “Reading the front page made me feel a lot better. Against that heinous background, my crimes were pale and meaningless. I was a relatively respectable citizen—a multiple felon, perhaps, but certainly not dangerous” (Thompson 74). This reflection on the current state of the nation solidifies the picaro's role. Duke may be a drug fiend and a rogue, but in comparison to the rest of the nation he sees himself as being “respectable.” The respectability the picaro affords himself is essential; the picaro needs to avoid questioning his lifestyle, or else he will become consumed by the same self-doubt and reflection that ruin Sal

Paradise's journey. Wilkinson 59

Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas will—almost certainly—remain the work that

Thompson is known for. Raoul Duke is one of the most interesting of Thompson's characters, and his journey is an important reflection of the time it was written in.

Fear and Loathing... also serves as an ideal example of the Modern-American picaro maintaining his chaotic lifestyle in a stable society. Wilkinson 60

CONCLUSION

At its core, the picaresque narrative is the story of a rogue's search for sovereignty. Whether one looks at the classic Spanish picaresque tales such as

Lazarillo De Tormes or Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, the goal of the narrator is the same—to maintain his/her sovereign identity while briefly interacting with his/her society for the sole purpose of critiquing it. Hunter S. Thompson's picaresque narratives, while heavily influenced by the work of earlier American Picaresque narratives such as Adventures of Huckleberry Finn and On the Road, succeeded in adapting the style to fit the time period he was writing in. In The Rum Diary,

Thompson created a picaro stuck at a crossroads, confused and contemplative about his wandering lifestyle, torn between the freedom of the road and the possibility of a happy, stable life. In Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, Thompson created a beautiful eulogy for the '60s counterculture he had believed in, while—almost simultaneously

—pondering and rejecting the existence of the American Dream.

While Thompson's work has gained a significant following in the past two decades following the release of the Terry Gilliam's film adaptation of Fear and

Loathing in Las Vegas, Thompson's work remains in a literary purgatory. Literary scholars have focused for far too long on approaching Thompson's work as journalism only. This oversight has resulted in Thompson's texts not being afforded the same level of analysis that novels would receive; a majority of the articles that currently exist on Thompson attempt to successfully place Gonzo Journalism in relation to New Journalism and discuss the “truthful” elements of the work. However, Wilkinson 61 as Thompson stated numerous times, a majority of his texts were never based in truth.

Yes, Thompson identified himself as a “Doctor of Journalism,” and created a genre he dubbed “Gonzo Journalism,” but, if we heed Thompson’s warning not to take his work as truth, texts like The Rum Diary and Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas should not be approached as pieces of journalism at all. Once literary scholars approach

Thompson's texts as fictional texts, they may see the world of possibility that opens in the analysis of these texts. My analysis of Thompson's work as a modern adaptation of the picaresque narrative is just one way to approach these works and connect his work to a larger spectrum of literature. Kemp and Duke may have been fictionalized versions of Thompson, but their stories were not Thompson's. These two novels were, in a way, pseudo-autobiographies of Thompson's adventures, and this is only fitting considering that the tale of the picaro is, at heart, a pseudo-autobiography; these novels are moments of Thompson's life retold with grandiose fictionalizations—the same way the picaro often reconstructs his own tale.

Perhaps this confusion and debate over his work is exactly what Thompson wanted. He made it a point to present himself as a man charged with presenting the truth. A majority of his work first appeared in a journalistic form and he often made himself a character in his texts—an act that would result in his fans' confusion between the character, Duke, and the man, Thompson. One of the key components in

Thompson's work is the creation of a facade of reliability and truthfulness, and maybe his body of work is his biggest success in this creation. It has been forty-three years Wilkinson 62 since the first publication of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas and scholars are still trying to approach the work as a piece of journalism.

Approaching Thompson's work from the picaresque genre has been a difficult task. Since the body of critical work on Thompson is so limited, connections had to be made to the fundamental theories of the picaresque genre—in this instance to the work of Claudio Guillén—as well as to other well-researched authors in the field.

However, as this thesis hopefully shows, these connections can be made and

Thompson can be successfully analyzed as fiction that participates in a long literary tradition. It is my sincerest hope that scholars will begin to make similar connections between Thompson's expansive body of work and classic literary modes such as the picaresque, because it is through these developments and connections that Thompson can gain a sense of legitimacy in a field he has been excluded from for so long. Wilkinson 63

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