The Rum Diary is Hunter S. Thompson's first work of admitted fiction. Its
arrival has been awaited with anticipation for two reasons, firstly that Thompson hasn't
published any straight fiction before, and also because something of a
Thompson retrospective has occurred in the last year, and his early
correspondence talks of his hopes for the novel. He alludes to many of his
great literary heroes, and a sound mixture of such influences, from a man
with a terrific prose style, made for tremendous promise.
In a letter to Norman Mailer he modesty described it as "the great
Puertian Rican novel," which Mailer should watch out for. The arrogance on
display has never deserted Thompson, and his work at its best justifies
every snotty assertion, but on occasion he fails spectacularly to raise his
work beyond the worst of clichés.
However, many spirited and enterprising authors throw themselves into
living their intended fictional worlds, and the 22 year old HST lived in
Puerto Rico, where he earned money from being a male model, among other
enterprises. His life at this juncture was characterised by a wandering
gypsy spirit, which brought with it a poverty that his periodic,
increasingly regular excess seemed geared to counter upon arriving at
financial growth. Thompson chronicled the evolution of his development
with his letters, the first volume of which, The Proud Highway, covers
this early period and stops tantalisingly short of his blooming.
The Rum Diary era Thompson was a wandering young man who was beginning the
road to excess which epitomise his life and best work. Early work is often
a reflection of the author's desires or intentions, and it is obvious from
the novel that Thompson originally enough wanted to be overpaid and
underworked, whilst drinking excessively with a variety of shysters none
of whom would be welcome in a respectable house.
The novel is notably short on drug use, incredibly so when held
(inevitably) in comparison with later efforts. Instead of tripping and
mistaking the locals for alligators, the characters consume liver-crippling
amounts of booze and exchange comments which would take a
certain amount of inebriation for anyone to take seriously. There is
little light-heartedness, and many scenes seem geared to be either
metaphors for the time or symbols of development and corruption; personal
greed being high on Thompson's agenda.
The book also has a lot about pissed up women being attractive and a good thing to be around in a carnival, until things go wrong. Worse than this, it reads with Ian Fleming's colonialist spirit, as
evinced by James Bond tipping the locals heavily and being amused at
having to pay for ice and so on, but without the fluidity or plot to make the
novel work. The Rum Diary is sluggish, and few of the observations
impress. The book's authenticity is questionable; Thompson was in Puerto
Rico not long after the novel is set but then he is also bending reality
to fit his own appetites. This is a novel of desire, but don't get too
romantic because the desires are selfish. Thompson wants to write as a
disaffected American, an outsider whose natural company must perforce be
others who do not fit. Arriving at this due to experience is one thing,
but as the result of inclination is quite another and Thompson's flair for
journalism brings a certain unwitting honesty here, and his intention to
write a novel of disaffection shines through clearly. A more skilled
exponent of fiction would have pulled it off, for The Rum Diary has real
roots and much strength in its topic, but it was a search for clarity
which ultimately made Thompson great, not an ability to distort.
His, of course, was a role which he had to grow into, and this is a curse
of a book in some ways. It is perfectly acceptable that great talents must
learn their craft producing lesser works, lesser works being the logical
precursor to big achievements. Nobody is born with the prose of a master,
and every bad sentence is a step closer to real skill. However, to glory in
its publication now begs certain questions, especially as Thompson by all
accounts didn't publish it for money - some of his books are million
sellers and there's only so many guns a boy needs.
As a big Thompson fan, and having avidly lapped up most of his published work,
I looked forward to The Rum Diary. Having read excerpts in The Great
Shark Hunt I wasn't expecting a masterpiece - and didn't get one. It is
fascinating to use this rather unpolished glass to take a reflection of
Hunter S. Thompson, a man who in some ways defies sane category. Thompson
is an unidentifiable quantity, he was at best obscured by his own ability,
which distracts from the person who created it. In The Rum Diary the
reader gets the best impression of where Thompson came from, and his
outlook on life, both as a practical American and as a man of hedonistic
ideals. For those who know him: be warned, this is not the regular goods.
For those who don't, try the 1971 vintage.
Reviewed by Chris Wood
