I just finished Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas for class. Jesus.
First of all, I started this book all thinking it was this fictional novel, until I read the back flap and saw it was classified as nonfiction/journalism. Um. Really? I think it's supposedly based on real events, but it's so wild that I don't see how this is JOURNALISM... I don't KNOW....
The only other thing I can say is that while the book was really funny at times, overall, the consistent barrage of sensory overload and craziness was hard to stomach, even for only 200 pages. I mean I guess that's the point, given that it's a book about an INCREDIBLE AMOUNT OF DRUGS but omg, by the time I got to page 100, reading the book was making me anxious. I was fine with the first half, but the more I read, the more tense I became, and not in a good way, but in a omg, this is just too much kind of way. Now I need to go like.. meditate to calm my nerves. That book itself was like a drug trip.
Um yeah. That's all. Geez.