It's a biographer's job to
turn life into story, to find beats in the day-to-day and shape them into arcs
that will satisfy readers without getting too heavy-handed. In Outlaw
Journalist: The Life And Times Of Hunter S. Thompson, William McKeen has his
work cut out for him. Thompson spent the last two decades before his 2005
suicide trying to come to terms with the oversized public persona he loathed,
and the trick for anyone trying to tell the man's "real" story is in hitting a
balance between caricature and reality. The temptation, as the saying goes,
would be to "print the legend," but McKeen honors the memory of the Great
Agitator by making him human—maddening and profane, but in the end, a man
who lived well and wrote better.
Journalist starts with Thompson's
childhood in Louisville, where he learned the fine art of juvenile delinquency
while applying to the local literary club. He follows through Thompson's time
in the Air Force, champing at the bit under authority's reins, but developing
an interest in journalism that would define his career. McKeen describes the
eventual development of gonzo reportage, a no-holds-barred series of dispatches
that frequently cast Thompson as their focus—drugged out, twitching, and
constantly on the run from last week's deadline. The device came to haunt him
in later years, as the publicity turned him from the voice of a generation to a
celebrity uneasy in the cage of fame, but it also inspired his work. Thompson
always made his own best subject.
McKeen clarifies early on
that he was with friends with Thompson, and Journalist is an affectionate
portrait, albeit one that doesn't ignore Thompson's more difficult side.
Thompson took issue with being seen as a drug-crazed cartoon, but his real-life
antics weren't always amusingly cartoonish; he had a controlling, abusive side
that made relationships difficult, especially romantic ones, and his aggressive
sense of humor could often seem more madness than wit. Still, it's impossible
to finish Journalist without respecting the love others felt for him, or feeling a
pang at his loss. Fear and loathing will always be around, but the craft needed
to make them sing is forever in short supply.