Joel Achenbach writes about Hunter Thompson, including this:
For all of Thompson’s theatrics and self-abuse, he could write like a demon. His prose accelerated across the page like a sportscar with the top down. He kept himself squarely in the picture, to great comic effect. We understood that he needed drugs the way other people needed oxygen, that he had an odd fondness for guns and violence, and that he loathed Richard Nixon and most authoritarian institutions. Otherwise, he wasn’t very complicated. He didn’t gum up his narrative with soul-searching. He really served as a big eyeball, if perhaps a rather glazed one.