- 88
Thompson, Hunter S.
Description
- Thompson, Hunter S.
- 3 typed letters signed ("Hunter" and "Hunter Thompson"), to Susan Haselden of Louisville, KY
- ink, paper
Condition
In response to your inquiry, we are pleased to provide you with a general report of the condition of the property described above. Since we are not professional conservators or restorers, we urge you to consult with a restorer or conservator of your choice who will be better able to provide a detailed, professional report. Prospective buyers should inspect each lot to satisfy themselves as to condition and must understand that any statement made by Sotheby's is merely a subjective qualified opinion.
NOTWITHSTANDING THIS REPORT OR ANY DISCUSSIONS CONCERNING CONDITION OF A LOT, ALL LOTS ARE OFFERED AND SOLD "AS IS" IN ACCORDANCE WITH THE CONDITIONS OF SALE PRINTED IN THE CATALOGUE.
Catalogue Note
These letters are love letters of a sort. Thompson recalls past times with Haseldon, including a romp on a golf course that resulted in a profusion of insect bites. He also urges her to visit him in Florida: "Things here are as prosaic as ever, the same blood-curdling routine week after week, nothing but idiots everywhere, uniforms, foul food, and ugly women. Just as soon as I sell a novel or two, I will buy a plot of land and build a small hut and a large swimming pool on it. Then I will fence the whole thing off and operate a small scale nudist colony where I can have nightly orgies and not be bothered by the world and its idiots. Maybe I'll let you come and handle my correspondence."
The letter dated 13 July 1957 is titled "Open Letter to a Fallen Woman." It includes this observation on women: "I went to Tallahassee last weekend and had two dates with very pretty but mentally deficient girl who would fit into the mold of the 'typical old south, Tallahassee girl' type. It convinced me that, except on rare occasions, I cannot enjoy a date with a stupid girl, and believe it or not, the world is full of them. I'd say 95% of all women are hopelessly stupid."
In the last letter, Thompson continues in the same uninhibited vein: "I am right in the midst of a horrible deadline rush at the moment and will have to make this letter rather short. Only this morning, I returned from a three-day whomp in New Orleans, the first in several months. After several days of consorting with various deviates of all sorts—queers, lesbians, gigolos, and winos—I am ready to get back on the right track again. Advanced degeneration is something I don't enjoy. Living with it for a while makes me feel a little dirty and puts me in a frame of mind where I regress mentally—back to the days when the mention of 'lavender' brought flowers to mind, instead of perverts. I'm afraid I'm a poseur. For all my talk of orgies and the like, I can only take them for a little while, and then I'm ready to go looking for my idealistic bubble to crawl into. Don't tell anyone: I have a reputation to uphold."
A very fine group of early unpublished letters from a writer with absolutely no conception of political or social correctness.