‘Junk takes everything and gives nothing but insurance against junk sickness.’
The car suddenly veered off the road and we came to a sliding halt in the gravel. I was hurled against the dashboard. My attorney was slumped over the wheel. “What’s wrong?” I yelled. “We can’t stop here. This is bat country!”
Crazy. Serious message between the lines aside, this novel is made to be a joy-ride of fiction. Strictly fun of reading and plain madness. You just sit there and laugh to yourself page after page. Impressive what imagination can do. Take this example. Suddenly there are bats all around. It’s swarming with bats, my god! A bat country? Now add the fact that it’s all happening on the desert in the heat of the sun, well, a perfect habitat for nocutrnal creatures it is. But hey, don’t struggle with deep analizes. It’s pure entertainment. Of course story makes you think, however you don’t really have to. You can just ride with them. Watch and listen. When will be the next time you’d have a chance to get totally wasted in Las Vegas? Don’t worry here’s Thompson doing it all for you. Doing what a good reporter should do. Reporting. Enjoy.
To all the law students. Your future job doesn’t have to be arguing in court that your client wasn’t going to sell his half gram of weed. You might end up guiding some psycho jurnalist, actually not that sober all the time. Sure, I want to belive that.
PS: Why in Wallace’s book slang term for ‘crazy’ is ‘bats’? Does it connect somehow? It sound damn good. She’s going bats over last night. This guy is bats over Pynchon. Looks like bats are not that sane after all.