Hunter S. Thompson is a man renowned
for his contributions to the journalistic style dubbed Gonzo, one which favors
reports from personal experiences and emotion, often through use of sarcasm and
satire. While Thompson’s journalistic style was readily available, I chose to
look at how he used rhetorical devices of the creative style to communicate in
a personal letter, “The Pro-Flogging View”, which he wrote in response to his friend
and fellow artist Ralph Steadman. The letter that this responds to is a
desperate plea from Steadman for parenting advice regarding his son. The letter
is grounded in a similar regard to Gonzo journalism, with its focal point hinged
on elements of the creative style, meant to be a cut-to-the-core satire that
bites at the situational irony of Steadman’s son breaking windows, when
Steadman, as an artist, was renowned for his politically satirical artwork. “The Pro-Flogging View” further uses similar elements of the Gonzo style by
positioning Thompson in an objective viewpoint which focuses on his own
experiences and direct reaction to the letter he received from Steadman
originally.
The
opening line conveys not only the essence of Thompson’s journalistic style, but
also multiple instances of the Creative Style tinged with satire:
“I
received your tragic letter about your savage, glue-sniffing son and read it
while eating breakfast at 4:30 a.m. on the edge of Mobile Bay...and I made
some notes on your problem, at the time, but they are not the kind of notes
that any decent man would want to send to a friend...So I put them away
until I could bring a little more concentration to bear on the matter...”
As a
response to the received letter, Thompson uses Apostrophe to directly address
Steadman and his plight. He goes a step further, belittling Steadman’s son
through meiosis, attaching the term “savage” and “glue-sniffing”. But this also
functions as epitheton, and similar terms are attached throughout the letter,
but the attached attributes and belittlement actually serve to amplify
Thompson’s belittlement of Steadman, rather than his son, in the claim for advice
on parenting. All of these creative elements reassert Thompson’s satirical
stance toward Steadman.
Another section of the letter is
ripe with rhetorical devices:
England
is the wrong place for a boy who wants to smash windows. Because he’s right, of
course. He should smash windows. Anybody growing up in England today without a
serious urge to smash windows is probably too dumb for help.
You
are reaping the whirlwind, Ralph. Where in the name of art or anything else did
you ever see anything that said you could draw queer pictures of the prime
minister and call her worse than a denatured pig- but your own son shouldn’t
want to smash windows?
Thompson
uses Diacope, the split repetition of the phrase “smash windows”, to emphasize
the core concept of his satire. Each time he amplifies the idea through
additional detail, noting that anyone without the urge “is probably too dumb
for help.” “You are reaping the whirlwind,” Thompson says, pulling from the
proverb that the actions of Steadman’s son are the natural consequence of
Steadman’s propensity to smash windows with his artwork. Thompson uses
exemplum, the concrete example from Ralph’s life, to deny the intolerance of
the father to the son’s actions. Of course Steadman asked for no permission to
“draw queer pictures of the prime minister” or “call her worse than a denatured
pig”, but that is the nature of satire, which then serves a double purpose
because of Thompson’s choice of these devices. They all capitalize on the
shortcomings on Steadman’s thoughts regarding his situation, and Thompson uses
this ridicule in the letter to emphasize that point.
Four other continuous fragments from
the letter serve as savage blows to the request from Steadman:
What
do you think we’ve been doing all these year? Do you think you were getting
paid for your goddamn silly art?
No,
Ralph. You were getting paid to smash windows. And that is an art in itself.
The trick is getting paid for it.
What?
Hello? Are you still there, Ralph?
You
sniveling, hypocritical bastard.
Thompson
uses hypophora to berate Steadman first, setting up his swings with an
intensity that reads like he is screaming the words in your face. He asks the
questions and then follows them with the answers regarding the window smashing
nature of Steadman’s son. This time, however, diacope is used to echo “paid”
and “art”. Thompson is asserting that there is an artful variant of smashing
windows through the right channels that lends itself to payment if harnessed in
the right way, which he and Steadman have both been doing through their
respective art forms. The “What? Hello?
Are you still there, Ralph?” that follow are rhetorical questions and direct
address that emphasize the impact that Thompson was aiming for. “You sniveling,
hypocritical bastard,” he follows, delivering another satirical blow that only
adds to his argument through epitheton and meiosis.
As
Thompson says regarding his words, “they are not the kind of notes that any
decent man would want to send to a friend.” But Thompson doesn’t typically
regard himself as a decent man, and he doesn’t spare the use of any harsh words
in the letter to Steadman. Through use of all the rhetorical devices
highlighted, Thompson repeatedly smashes the windows that Ralph Steadman tries
to keep in place. He wants direct access to Steadman’s thoughts, not just the
view offered through the transparent windows, and when he breaks the window, he
doesn’t let the satire drop, even when he writes the post-script: “P.S.: Jesus, Ralph, I think I might have misspoke myself
when I said ten thousand would cover it for the murderous little bastard. No.
Let’s talk about thirty, Ralph. You’ve got a real monster on your hands. I
wouldn’t touch him for less than thirty.”
As successful as Thompson’s style is
at delivering his message, it is also important to look at the context of the
letter. While originally intended for Steadman, the letter was also published
in Thompson’s book, “Generation of Swine – Gonzo Papers Vol. 2: Tales of Shame
and Degradation in the ‘80’s.” The book is a collection of political articles
published by Thompson throughout the end of the 1980’s that highlight both the
lived experience in the political climate, and the foul nature of politics near
the end of a decade. Given the fact that it is dated April 21, 1986, one week
after the previous article included, it is likely that it was published as an
article in the San Francisco Examiner
like the other articles.
Why, amongst the political turmoil of
the other articles, does Thompson take the time to include this letter? Not
only does it paint the image of deprivation in a world where windows should be
broken, but the letter also points to it as a requirement for anyone that is
intelligent. “Children are like TV sets,” Thompson states, “When they start
acting weird, whack them across the eyes with a big rubber basketball shoe. How
is that for wisdom?” Something wrong with it? No. I don’t think so. Today’s
plate-glass window is tomorrow’s BBC story.” How do you build a career around
smashing windows without raising a child prone to doing the same, even if he
throws a brick instead of paint, ink, or type-written text? You don’t, and
Thompson is candid enough to point that out you don’t avoid it. You embrace it.
And in a readership steeped amongst a generation of “huge brains, small necks,
weak muscles and fat wallets,” smashing windows might have been the most sane,
grounding option available. Res ipsa
loquitur.
Mitch Marty
Thompson, Hunter S. Generation
of Swine: Tales of Shame and Degradation in the '80s. New York: Summit,
1988. Print.
Artwork by Ralph Steadman.
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