Writers' obituaries by other writers are normally very well-written. Besides chronicling-reminiscing about the deceased, they afford us a chance to appreciate the eulogizer's own writing and life. Occasionally, as illustrated by Jan Herman, obits afford one final chance to drive the knife in, and twist it deeply.
Various excellent obituaries have already been published about Hunter S Thompson's death. The weeklies will have additional, measured pieces once they hit the stands. And we haven't seen a Doonesbury reference yet.
Some fine pieces:
Tom Wolfe in the Opinion Journal
Hunter's life, like his work, was one long barbaric yawp, to use Whitman's term, of the drug-fueled freedom from and mockery of all conventional proprieties that began in the 1960s. In that enterprise Hunter was something entirely new, something unique in our literary history. When I included an excerpt from "The Hell's Angels" in a 1973 anthology called "The New Journalism," he said he wasn't part of anybody's group. He wrote "gonzo." He was sui generis. And that he was.
Yet he was also part of a century-old tradition in American letters, the tradition of Mark Twain, Artemus Ward and Petroleum V. Nasby, comic writers who mined the human comedy of a new chapter in the history of the West, namely, the American story, and wrote in a form that was part journalism and part personal memoir admixed with powers of wild invention, and wilder rhetoric inspired by the bizarre exuberance of a young civilization. No one categorization covers this new form unless it is Hunter Thompson's own word, gonzo. If so, in the 19th century Mark Twain was king of all the gonzo-writers. In the 20th century it was Hunter Thompson, whom I would nominate as the century's greatest comic writer in the English language.
He's fine when hanging out with Warren Zevon, but he appears a bit lost when he's discharging fire extinguishers, or hurling blown-up fuck-dolls around the scenery, as if this sort of thing was expected of him. "He was never one to hang around when it was time to go," a mutual friend e-mailed me on Monday. The realization that this might have occurred to him before it occurred to us is a very melancholy one.
Article comments
1 - Eric Olsen
very nice and helpful Aaman, thanks!
2 - Aaman
Thanks Eric, a powerful life, well-remembered
3 - swingingpuss
Al Jazeera seems to have a particular interest in Hunter's 9/11 thought.
4 - Eric Berlin
Very cool roundup, Aaman. I especially enjoyed the thoughts of Wolfe and Rollins.
5 - Aaman
Thanks EB - shows how good and powerful traditional journalism still is.
6 - Rodney Welch
Me on HST.
7 - gonzo marx
the Curse of Lono is finally fufilled...the greedheads and swine can rejoice...i can almost hear the Tin Man with his gravelly chortle pulling his hand out of the Shrub's ass for a second so he can squirt some Iraqi's blood onto the corners of his rusted mouth, enabling that shark like smile....fuck them...i refuse to allow this Horror to drown me in the Kingdom of Fear
a giant has fallen in the Wilderness...none of the "legit" Citizens will do more than a token Notice...but the freaks,the outlaws,the strange, the thinkers, the Doomed....they will notice.
among the Tribe of the Weird there will be much Lamenting and consuming of peyote buttons as we Spirit Walk and rail against the gods as to why our Shaman has been taken from U.S.
the gods won't Answer, of course...they never do, and now there is one less Voice to put our muddied feet on the Path...one less Visionary to rub our noses in the fact that the Emperor is ALWAYS naked...you can almost hear the cackling from Hell as Nixon jerks off violently in small souled glee...
when most of the hippies that had tuned in,turned on and dropped out shed their tye dye clothes for the yuppie suits and BMW's of Reagan's 80's...becoming the fascist neo-Cons, epitome of all they had railed against, Hunter stood firm on the slippery muck of Principle and Truth...spewing the Words that helped tear away the Veil of Corporate propaganda and hauling us out of the rut induced by cowardly, politically correct, right-think.
he was not the kind of man that burst thru a concrete wall spitting dust and looking good doing it, he was more the guy who watched that Freak consume the room, and then picked up all the loose change on the floor after the bar fight...but he always "stomped on the terra", leaving indelible boot prints on the necks of our Spirits as he gnawed on the Skull of Truth with his very own teeth.
so wash down that mescaline with a quart of Wild Turkey, spark a joint and wait for it all to kick in...give the good Doctor the mother of all Wakes that he deserves....
me...i'll be wondering who is going to feed the mojo-wire with the flotsam of America's id, and wailing and gnashing my teeth in the realization that half a continent away in the quiet snows of Owl Farm the peacocks are crying....
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8 - Rodney Welch
That's another legacy of Thompson's death: it gives all his fans a chance to pretend they're him.
9 - gonzo marx
ya forgot one there, Rodney...
he also always inspired the shriveled spirits trapped in their hydroenchephelatic, pus sucking existances to Critique their betters, because they not only couldn't Contribute to the Discussion...
they can't even comprehend the Subject..
nuff said?
10 - Aaman
Which is why I selected only real writers/journos for the obits above - leastways they can claim they know the profession from the inside. (And fine writing too)
11 - gonzo marx
bah..*encephelatic*...i know..
i just can't fewking spell