I read this book, many years ago, and i try to get others to read it. I loved it back then, it was different from the other chicano literature i was reading, in fact it was never mentioned, but i found it and i thoroughly enjoyed it. Yeah, he is a big character, and his writing is ecstatic, and sometimes i do think it is better that
fear and loathing
, but its probably the mexican in me saying that, but i do recommend this book to others, i think the last chapter says a lot, it affected me very m
I read this book, many years ago, and i try to get others to read it. I loved it back then, it was different from the other chicano literature i was reading, in fact it was never mentioned, but i found it and i thoroughly enjoyed it. Yeah, he is a big character, and his writing is ecstatic, and sometimes i do think it is better that
fear and loathing
, but its probably the mexican in me saying that, but i do recommend this book to others, i think the last chapter says a lot, it affected me very much, when he goes to el paso and juarez, how he is not accepted by the whites in this country, and when he goes to mexico, he is not accepted by the browns over there, he ends up saying that he is at home, but no one wants him, so who or what does he call home?, or his family at that? its still the same today, nothings changed, i can't go into mexico without being called a pocho and i can't walk around up north without being called a wetback, but i'm trying acosta, i'm trying, you got me riled up and i am continuing this tradition, no one can shut me up, for i've been here for years, thank you senor, wherever you are, thank you.
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When Oscar appears before a judge in Mexico facing the charges of “those nasty things, vile language, gringo arrogance, and americano impatience,” (193), we see a confluence of labels that the narrator has taken upon himself, shaken from himself throughout the novel: he is a lawyer without a license, an educated man who cannot speak the language of his father, an American without papers to prove it, a long-haired Californian who is not a hippie, one who decries corruption in Mexico yet has done
When Oscar appears before a judge in Mexico facing the charges of “those nasty things, vile language, gringo arrogance, and americano impatience,” (193), we see a confluence of labels that the narrator has taken upon himself, shaken from himself throughout the novel: he is a lawyer without a license, an educated man who cannot speak the language of his father, an American without papers to prove it, a long-haired Californian who is not a hippie, one who decries corruption in Mexico yet has done his fair share of corruption in the States. Autobiography of a Brown Buffalo is a story of identity, but not the search for it; it is a story of the mélange of a man's identity confused by color/race, class, materialism, drugs, religion and nationality. Though I expected some of the centeredness and nationalistic identity that would be iconic in Revolt of the Cockroach People, this is instead a tale of wandering, not of quest, a story told in sound and fury but without the weightiness of place, family, manhood, or people, signifying the nothingness of a man with no direction. This is a story that can only be told within a context of the temporary freedom enabled by $200 and cheap gas prices of the 1960s. Instead of moving toward an identity, Acosta flees from it, never really reaching a plateau where he or the audience can appreciate history or future, where he can simple or believingly say, "I am THIS."
Whereas we might hope that lessons learned in life lead to some semblance of learning, of maturation, of identity-formation, the flashbacks and references throughout the novel only demonstrate a multitude of influences which might have gelled one day to some semblance of stability, but both the genre and the material instead create the dissonant cacophony of the tumult that may represent the late 60s or the beats (I'm not claiming that Acosta is representative of the Beats, however). We have here an unstable, isolated, suspicious narrator who makes no healthy choices whatsoever for us to trust him – neither physically, emotionally, socially, professionally – as he gives us a snapshot of the nascence of one man’s participation in what would become the 1960s LA Chicano movement. We have a man who bridges the cultural division of the 60s in multiple ways, with the best conclusion being that being excluded from society and prejudged does not allow one the right to condemn another. At best we see a novel in which Acosta uses biotherapy (and not in healthy ways) to unravel the mysteries and obsessions that plagued him in his life with characters as closely resembling people who play major roles in his life: suppressed, marginalized members of society.
Though I believe Acosta's later work bears importance in Chicano literature based on the level to which people use identification with ethnicity to define who they are as individuals, here the narrator rejects any claim of allegiance to any people until the end, and instead battles the effects a recurrence of victimhood and unworthiness. Acosta's roller coaster, insatiable hunt for acceptance in life from others and through his writings (and his writing about writing) points to the need to bridge alliances rather than to focus on what separates ethnicities and people. There are brief moments in the novel where the narrator shows where stability is – or was -- part of his existence, but these flashbacks are briefer and flatter than other flashbacks, and in every instance, the stability was because of an authority outside his own independent nature. His recollection of his childhood when his father would make the children stand in formation are minimal and distant, more distant than his tales of budding sexuality for example, and his recollection of his Air Force years are even more fleeting. It's those points in his life where transition takes place that he spends most of his energy – high school academics and music; religious conversion (where he vacillated between Catholicism and Protestantism), and his journey through law school and his short stint as a Legal Aid attorney (which he hated, abhorred, and avoided all responsibility except when he could cajole a witness to lie for a woman who sought a temporary restraining order). The narrator seems to exult in this lack of stability, too much like talking to my friends and acquaintances who have dependency problems, who make lofty claims and lack the skill sets to realize these claims.
The lack of identity is further shown with his habit of name-dropping, though part of the road trip genre as he simultaneously decries those who do the same.
• “Hastings, the internationally famous law school that hired only senile experts to teach anyone who didn’t have quite the money for a school with real class” (49).
• “Seven years later, in the spring of '67, I ran into Tim Leary at Golden Gate Park” (100).
• “Charlie Fisher isn’t impressed with famous people. He has tons of bread stored in the Republican bank of Devil's Lake, North Dakota, so he didn't need anything Timothy had to offer” (101).
• “These guys weren't the world famous fags they are today. In fact, most of them were alive then. Even Tim Leary was still on this earth. He hadn't learned to walk on water at the time” (100).
• “Tibeau brought some famous people in, but I don't know” (140).
• “I worked as a copy boy for the S.F. Examiner from seven in the morning until three in the afternoon, then took evening classes at S.F. Law (a school that graduated both Governor Brown and Charles Gary whose most famous client, Huey Newton)” (171).
And in Ketchum, he appropriates the excessive masculine personae of legendary Hollywood actors such as Gary Cooper, Humphrey Bogart, and Steve McQueen, all of whom play war heroes, out-law heroes, and loners, quintessential American men struggling against a hostile world.
The level of disconnect across the narrative is really disconcerting: There is Acosta the anarcho-libertarian Chicano raised in California's Riverbank/Modesto and who makes his name as a Legal Aid lawyer in Oakland and Los Angeles after qualifying in San Francisco in 1966. There is the Air Force enlistee who, on being sent to Panama, becomes a Pentecostal convert and missionary there (1949-52) before opting for apostasy and a return to California. There is the jailee in Ciudad Juarez, Mexico, in 1968, forced to argue in local court for his own interests in uncertain street Spanish after a spat with a hotelkeeper. This disconnect is again reflected in the mass name confusion throughout the novel:
• Henry Hawk – known in pop culture as the cartoon chicken hawk from the American Looney Tunes series opposite Foghorn Leghorn
• Girlfriend Jane Addison confuses Oscar’s mother Juanita with the name Jennie (and both Jane and Juanita have the initials JA and JA)
• Signed his father’s name for credit when his father was in the Navy
• Claimed to know Hemingway, and that Hemingway knew him as “Brown Buffalo” and that’s the name Mary Hemmingway would remember him.
• “Some person, or beast for all I knew, had signed each warrant for my arrest with the code name of Debby.”
What we have in this text is not an autobiography of a man who sees himself as Chicano, though he uses that label when it's convenient. As a person, as a man, this is also one who cannot find satisfaction in anything he attempts. He is overweight, and knows it, yet consumes junk food as his only staple. He is a drunkard, excessively drinking since high school, and has no issues about staying drunk for days on end (apparently his primary calorie influx is Budweiser?). He is sexually unsuccessful, spending as much time describing his masturbation as he does talking about real his time with women, looking, ogling, fantasizing more than simply working on healthy contacts. His writing is in fits and jumps and uses his short legal career mostly as a pretense to impress publishers in anticipation of a book deal later on, a story of a writer who understands that he should be writing, but has been running away from writing all his life. In addition to the publication attempts, we learn he has taken writing classes, but complete his first novel only after he leaves class, and then the professor refuses to give feedback because he is no longer a student. He makes a pilgrimage to Hemmingway's grave, (dropping names again), but this is only accidental because of his wanderings to Ketchum, and he learns nothing about writing from the experience.
There is racial/national identity in the novel, but Acosta always presents this in terms of "other" -- Chinks and fags, women as ex-lovers and non- lovers, southerners, Okies, Niggers, Mexicans, all encountered through his life and now contra all his faked personas as he travels to Idaho and south. Yet nowhere do we see him embrace any real identity for himself except as the Brown Buffalo.
"I've been mistaken for American Indian, Spanish, Filipino, Hawaiian, Samoan, and Arabian" he witnesses, adding ruefully, "No one has ever asked me if I'm a spic or greaser" (68).
And how many times do we see him claim to be Samoan when it conveniences him, avoiding a real identification, one that would complicate his identification with those around him, but would be more honest? It's not just his peculiar physiology though, that confuses those around him. It's the act of performance that he has mastered across his life that confuses us. Dancer and dance here keep us entertained, but ultimately dissatisfied. Who is this man that spends as much time with references to Tim Leary, Jerry Garcia, and The Grateful Dead, who calls himself the "Mexican Billy Graham," who publically claims that "My family is the Last of the Aztecs" ? (140).
Just as he runs from the responsibilities of the legal profession, just as he runs from the law when crashing his car, he runs from any identification with the stereotype, machismo Chicano male. His movement along the road is like his is both purposeful and aimless, confident and unsure, free and irresponsible. Acosta depicts Oscar as an aggressive explorer “hammering and kicking," even plunging "headlong over the mountains” to find his origins (71) yet he also casts him as an impotent, lost man-child who leaves a beer-can trail in case he cannot find his way home. His “wilted penis” (71) contradicts his representation of his masculinity and membership in either any Chicano or Anglo-American patriarchy.
The bravado of the final chapter’s forewarning of Cockroaches aside, Oscar is finally honest enough with his brother when he bemoans that
One sonofabitch tells me I’m not a Mexican and the other one says I’m not an American. I got no roots anywhere. …
I came here to find out who I was, can’t he understand. …. So I’ve got to find out who I am so I can do what I’m supposed to do. (196)
Of course, this is just the preface for his work where he actually does stand and establish his identity as a Chicano man within the melee of the Chicano movement in Revolt of the Cockroach People. But this is still prefatory. Almost inevitably, given a journey text as Kerouac-mythic as actual, the pathway back into Los Angeles becomes the hallowed, iconic Route 66. He speaks of a time soon to come when he will become "Zeta," as taken from the last letter of the Spanish alphabet and, as The Revolt of The Cockroach People confirms, also from the name of the hero in the movie Las Cucarachas. For the moment, however, he gives as his temporary working certificate of identity:
What I see now, on this rainy day in January, 1968, what is clear to me after this sojourn is that I am neither a Mexican nor an American. I am neither a Catholic nor a Protestant. I am a Chicano by ancestry and a Brown Buffalo by choice. (Acosta 1989a, 199).
Only in the last five paragraphs do we have a declaration of who he is as a man, “My name is Oscar Acosta …. We need a new identity. A name and a language all our own.” But even in this manifesto he cannot find himself. He declares that he may be the messiah, once in a century who is chosen to speak for his people, but immediately he continues his name-dropping habit to associate himself with the famous and successful – Moses, Mao, Martin. “Who’s to say that I am not such a man? In this day and age the man for all seasons needs many voices” (199).
He calls for a new identity, “Is that so hard for you to understand?” that is neither this nor that, but a new breed, a “Brown Buffalo” by choice. Even here we only hear of promises for a new identity, “some time later I would become Zeta …” but that is another story.
Work Cited
Acosta, Oscar Zeta. Autobiography of a Brown Buffalo. New York: Vintage, 1989. Print
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I found this book lying around in a dingy used book shop in Jammu and bought it for Rs. 30. Partly because I needed to know the story of The Great Brown Buffalo, but mostly out of the grief I felt for the state in which lay the autobiography of one of the most interesting characters the sixties managed to puke out. OSCAR ZETA ACOSTA! The infamous attorney Dr. Gonzo to Hunter S Thompson's Raoul Duke! Whom he gazed upon in complete awe and famously exclaimed “There he goes. One of God's own protot
I found this book lying around in a dingy used book shop in Jammu and bought it for Rs. 30. Partly because I needed to know the story of The Great Brown Buffalo, but mostly out of the grief I felt for the state in which lay the autobiography of one of the most interesting characters the sixties managed to puke out. OSCAR ZETA ACOSTA! The infamous attorney Dr. Gonzo to Hunter S Thompson's Raoul Duke! Whom he gazed upon in complete awe and famously exclaimed “There he goes. One of God's own prototypes. Some kind of high powered mutant never even considered for mass production. Too weird to live, and too rare to die.”
This book drills a hole in the brown head of that crazy, schizophrenic and perpetually inebriated chicano lawyer and invites anyone (who dares) to take a look inside. And if you have the right kind of mind, you might even appreciate the twisted mechanisms in there driving this big Spanish hell-on-wheels. At the same time the book makes you shed a tear for the sad and lonely brown buffalo roaming the land in search for his identity and ultimately finding out he has none.
A book for any serious sixties counter-culture fiend. Drugs, sex, hippies, Hells Angels, Hunter Thompson, Tim Leary.. the whole package.
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the only book i will review, this book is important to me for reasons most people won't understand. it makes me proud of my culture as a CHICANO in america and gives me an identity i did not know i had. this book should be read by every mexican american, and appreciated because it is one of the most important books on the regards of chicano literature, also the revolt of the cockroach people is bad ass, another important book. Oscar Zeta Acosta is the shiiiittt!
I give this only 4 stars for other people, but for myself it's 5 and then some. This riveting account of coming of age in America as an outsider, an experimenter with life, a confused individual, is moving, honest and real as a punch in the gut. Reading it again after a couple decades this year, i was struck again about how the words connect to the realities. Most memoir, autobiography and self-opening writing skirts around things compared to this work. Acosta gets right to what makes people gro
I give this only 4 stars for other people, but for myself it's 5 and then some. This riveting account of coming of age in America as an outsider, an experimenter with life, a confused individual, is moving, honest and real as a punch in the gut. Reading it again after a couple decades this year, i was struck again about how the words connect to the realities. Most memoir, autobiography and self-opening writing skirts around things compared to this work. Acosta gets right to what makes people grow, change and end up where they are. Unsparing of himself, he delivers great scenes with direct dialogue, agonizing conflict and passion for life.
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Acosta was a lawyer and activist who played a prominent role in many events during the Chicano Movement in the late 1960s and early 1970s. This book is a semi-fictional account of his childhood and journey to political consciousness. It is also a record of the insanity and chaos of 60s counterculture. Acosta famously befriended the "gonzo" journalist Hunter S. Thompson, and was the model for Dr. Gonzo, the "Samoan" attorney in Thompson's novel Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. Brown Buffalo is an
Acosta was a lawyer and activist who played a prominent role in many events during the Chicano Movement in the late 1960s and early 1970s. This book is a semi-fictional account of his childhood and journey to political consciousness. It is also a record of the insanity and chaos of 60s counterculture. Acosta famously befriended the "gonzo" journalist Hunter S. Thompson, and was the model for Dr. Gonzo, the "Samoan" attorney in Thompson's novel Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. Brown Buffalo is an interesting take on that story from a very different angle.
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I don't quite know what to say about this book. There are a lot of different voices running through each chapter, bouncing through the pages with energy and urgency. And by a lot, I of course mean just one, that of Oscar Zeta Acosta, the self-proclaimed Brown Buffalo. Acosta is a Chicano. And from what I can gather from the many Chicanos in my own life, being a Chicano is emotionally confusing. One is both here and there, Mexican and American, Aztec and Spanish, traditional and nonconforming, as
I don't quite know what to say about this book. There are a lot of different voices running through each chapter, bouncing through the pages with energy and urgency. And by a lot, I of course mean just one, that of Oscar Zeta Acosta, the self-proclaimed Brown Buffalo. Acosta is a Chicano. And from what I can gather from the many Chicanos in my own life, being a Chicano is emotionally confusing. One is both here and there, Mexican and American, Aztec and Spanish, traditional and nonconforming, ashamed and proud...well, you get the point.
Acosta is many people and has many narrative voices. He is a mad mesh of Kerouac at his most urgent, Bukowski at his most belligerent, and H.Thompson at his most thoughtful. This is a manic tale of wandering, which has become a trademark theme of the 'counterculture' writers in the 1960s, but in this narrative, something feels different, and I think it largely has to do with Acosta being a Chicano. He is exceptionally lost in this world, and I feel empathy for Acosta that I simply don't feel for the Beat writers of his generation, who appear more pathetic than poetic. Acosta's voice is earnest, a man whose mind goes in thousands of directions, but whose aimlessness longs to be focussed and sharpened. And in his case, sharpened for a revolution. I was also surprised by Acosta's tenderness and vulnerability.
In the words of Hunter S. Thompson, "[Acosta] was too weird to live and too rare to die..."
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In The Autobiography of a Brown Buffalo, Acosta presents an account of his identity quest as a “Brown Buffalo,” traveling across the southwestern United States into Juarez, Mexico after rejecting his San Francisco identity as a lawyer. Acosta defines “Brown Buffalo” as an identity one chooses as a result of being neither a Mexican nor an American in the United States. According to Acosta, this identity is the solution for the future of Chicano representation in the 1960’s.
On his identity quest
In The Autobiography of a Brown Buffalo, Acosta presents an account of his identity quest as a “Brown Buffalo,” traveling across the southwestern United States into Juarez, Mexico after rejecting his San Francisco identity as a lawyer. Acosta defines “Brown Buffalo” as an identity one chooses as a result of being neither a Mexican nor an American in the United States. According to Acosta, this identity is the solution for the future of Chicano representation in the 1960’s.
On his identity quest, Acosta defines himself through many different categories of identity, including Chicano lawyer, football man, a drunk, a preacher, a mathematician, a musician, a Catholic, a Baptist preacher in Panama, whore-monger, son of Lorca, and Aztec indio from the mountains of Durango. He even identifies himself as Samoan when asked, turning his ethnic-racial background into a joke while simultaneously encouraging others to question normalized ethnic categories. The misogyny presented in this novel is a reflection of the machismo mentality bolstered by Chicanos in the resistance movements of the 1960’s that many Chicana writers such as Moraga and Anzaldua, hitherto ignored, would soon be contesting. In closing his novel, Oscar Zeta Acosta resolves his identity crisis in choosing a new identity as a writer and leader for the 1960’s and 1970’s Brown power revolutions of East L.A, fighting for the patriarchal La Raza movement.
As a social footnote to the Xicana/o movement in the late 60's and 70's this book has a larger than life feel to the story, nay legend, that was Oscar Zeta Acosta. Following his experiences as a Mexican-American youth in the Southwest, as well as beyond into his adolescence and eventual foray into the military, then as a lawyer for the under served in the San Francisco Bay Area.
I'd recommend this to anyone interested in this part of Latina/o history, as well as anyone who likes adventurous, humo
As a social footnote to the Xicana/o movement in the late 60's and 70's this book has a larger than life feel to the story, nay legend, that was Oscar Zeta Acosta. Following his experiences as a Mexican-American youth in the Southwest, as well as beyond into his adolescence and eventual foray into the military, then as a lawyer for the under served in the San Francisco Bay Area.
I'd recommend this to anyone interested in this part of Latina/o history, as well as anyone who likes adventurous, humorous and socially charged autobiographies. Fun fact, Acosta is played by Benicio del Toro in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas film. This book is preceded by a short introduction by Hunter S. Thompson.
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An wild, unruly book. Oscar Acosta clears the hell out of Flower Power San Francisco and out onto the open road, flashing back to drug trips, his friends in low places , the daily hell of working poverty law, being among white hippies, and the violence of his poor Mexican upbringing. He doesn't spare you his ulcers, his bodily functions, or what he thinks of his fat, brown body. Some of the writing about women and his heartbreak is wince-worthy. And some of the blow by blow drug trips get tediou
An wild, unruly book. Oscar Acosta clears the hell out of Flower Power San Francisco and out onto the open road, flashing back to drug trips, his friends in low places , the daily hell of working poverty law, being among white hippies, and the violence of his poor Mexican upbringing. He doesn't spare you his ulcers, his bodily functions, or what he thinks of his fat, brown body. Some of the writing about women and his heartbreak is wince-worthy. And some of the blow by blow drug trips get tedious. But it is ultimately moving to me that this is a brown man writing head on into all his racial feedback, trying to blast past it to define himself with some kind of brown buffalo pride.
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What a beautiful book. Expertly constructed and fantastically written, Acosta's prose has a mystical flow to it that far surpassed my expectations. I'm almost ashamed that it's taken me this long to track down and read this one.
Looking forward to reading the sequel, Revolt of the Cockroach People, which I think (& hope) deals more with his work as a Chicano civil rights agitator. Autobiography of a Brown Buffalo takes us from Acosta's short and farsical stint at Legal Aid family law practice to his drug/alcohol induced roadtrip through the Midwest and down memory lane. Reaching rock bottom, and gaining better clarity on the complexities of identity in America than his shrink ever gave him, Acosta's journey, spiritu
Looking forward to reading the sequel, Revolt of the Cockroach People, which I think (& hope) deals more with his work as a Chicano civil rights agitator. Autobiography of a Brown Buffalo takes us from Acosta's short and farsical stint at Legal Aid family law practice to his drug/alcohol induced roadtrip through the Midwest and down memory lane. Reaching rock bottom, and gaining better clarity on the complexities of identity in America than his shrink ever gave him, Acosta's journey, spiritual and otherwise is hilarious, debauche, and tender. Only gets four stars though, because of excessively gross dude humor and confusing drug trips.
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I'm a huge fan of Hunter S. Thompson and I knew Oscar Zeta Acosta was the 'Samoan lawyer' in "
Fear and Loathing
in Las Vegas" so I knew I had to read this book eventually.
I was quite pleasantly surprised, this was not the rip off of HST that I expected. Acosta has his own unique voice when writing. I found myself drawn into the character of the "Brown Buffalo," and how he became a hippie and a Chicano activist.
The ultimate search for an identity, that ultimately incomplete without the sequel, The Revolt of the Cockroach People, and left even more incomplete by Oscar Zeta Acosta's untimely disappearance and lack of a third book.
This book is not as good as its sequel - but it is hard to be. Most of this book ventures into a drug-influenced road novel, reality and fantasy struggling. But it starts and ends incredibly strongly and really showcases Acosta's shocking amount of talent and the tragedy that w
The ultimate search for an identity, that ultimately incomplete without the sequel, The Revolt of the Cockroach People, and left even more incomplete by Oscar Zeta Acosta's untimely disappearance and lack of a third book.
This book is not as good as its sequel - but it is hard to be. Most of this book ventures into a drug-influenced road novel, reality and fantasy struggling. But it starts and ends incredibly strongly and really showcases Acosta's shocking amount of talent and the tragedy that was his disappearance.
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Amazing and engaging look into the development of Oscar Zeta Acosta. Hunter S. Thompson makes a late cameo appearance, foreshadowing the delights to come in the sequel. The book follows the author as his world falls apart and he begins a mission to find himself... with the help of booze and drugs of course. Between episodes on his reality bending journey, Acosts sprinkles hellarious snip-its from his childhood to help explain the development into a pseudo-adulthood full of angst and determinatio
Amazing and engaging look into the development of Oscar Zeta Acosta. Hunter S. Thompson makes a late cameo appearance, foreshadowing the delights to come in the sequel. The book follows the author as his world falls apart and he begins a mission to find himself... with the help of booze and drugs of course. Between episodes on his reality bending journey, Acosts sprinkles hellarious snip-its from his childhood to help explain the development into a pseudo-adulthood full of angst and determination. Self-depricating yet inspiring, this book is fantastic all around.
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Recommends it for:
Anyone interested in Mexican American history, the 1960s counter culture or Hunter Thompson
Recommended to Anne by:
ricky
This book is actually fairly important. It is a memoir by a leader in the "brown power" movement in the 1960s, which is something one doesn't hear much about. The author was friends with Hunter Thompson (he's the guy Thompson travels with in FEAR AND LOTHING IN LAS VEGAS). As far as readability goes, the author's sentence structure is a bit difficult, but this became less of a problem as I read more of the book. I'm not sure if that's because I got used to his writing or if his writing improved.
This book is actually fairly important. It is a memoir by a leader in the "brown power" movement in the 1960s, which is something one doesn't hear much about. The author was friends with Hunter Thompson (he's the guy Thompson travels with in FEAR AND LOTHING IN LAS VEGAS). As far as readability goes, the author's sentence structure is a bit difficult, but this became less of a problem as I read more of the book. I'm not sure if that's because I got used to his writing or if his writing improved. All in all, certainly worth my time.
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If you didn't already know, Oscar Acosta is the real-life version of Hunter Thompson's 'attorney' from
Fear and Loathing
in Las Vegas. Acosta was a public defense attorney who was critical in the 'Brown Power' movement in the Sixties and Seventies. And, yes, if you're all wondering: he did partake in massive amounts of drugs and was a wild man. A great read
Fantastic book. Great, underappreciated masterpiece. If you love Hunter Thompson, specifically
Fear and Loathing
in Las Vegas and the character of the Samoan attorney, the author of this book is the real person that character was based on, and an incredible writer on his own merits. Worthy of Thompson and maybe even then some.
In many ways, this book stomps all over any possible comparisons to Hunter S. Thompson. Oscar even makes a claim that his style was stolen from him by Thompson. Whatever the case may be, this is a fiercely brazen little book and it becomes clear that he was without a doubt and charismatic and equally dangerous individual that is deserving of having a reputation all his own out of the shadow of his more famous friend. Highly recommended.
Brown power indeed. It was good to put a voice to Hunter's infamous 'samoan' attorney.
I was most impressed by how honestly and candidly he described not being mexican enough for mexicans and not being american enough for americans. Having to forge an identity instead of relying on one by birth is difficult and maddening and beautiful.
I was reading Hunter S Thompson's 'Gonzo Letters II' concurrently... now somebody pass me the ether.
A set of recent drug adventures interspersed with more lucid episodes from the author's youth. I haven't read
Cockroach People
so it is difficult to gauge whether or not these tales provide the necessary background to understand Acosta's later involvement in the Chicano movement. It is too bad it is difficult to see Acosta except through one's preconceptions of him as HS Thompson's "Samoan" attorney.
a contemporary of hunter thompson, acosta is just a lost in the wake of the sixties and just as into drugs & booze but channels his disaffection into being the house lawyer for chicano activists in los angeles in the early 70s. this and 'revenge of' are great, well-written gonzo pieces but also a really optimistic takes on a period of time where a lot of people where into apathy.
Oscar Zeta Acosta was the radical Latino lawyer upon whom "Dr. Gonzo" in
Fear and Loathing
in Las Vegas
was based. It's easy to see why Thompson found him so compelling, and his work, while spotty and inconsistent, is a pretty fun read.
This author is the Dr. Gonzo of Hunter S. Thompson's
Fear and Loathing
in Las Vegas
. Now you can read the other half of the story, y'know like how they say the Book of Mormon is another testament of Jesus.
An important book in Chicano literature. A fairly uncompromising biography - kind of coming of age - or at least coming into one's own. Well worth the ride. This is The Samoan Attorney from
Fear and Loathing
.
This book took a life of its own! I have mixed feelings about one of the topics touched on, but that comes down to personal experience. Acosta really brought me into his post modern world encouraging me to question societal boundaries in America and how they are changing or if they are changing enough not only based on ethnicity, but on topics allowed to be openly discussed.
(April 8, 1935 – disappeared 1974) was an American attorney, politician, minor novelist and Chicano Movement activist, perhaps best known for his friendship with the American author Hunter S. Thompson, who included him as a character the Samoan Attorney, Dr. Gonzo, in his acclaimed novel Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas.
“I heard the opening bar of 'Help' as I headed down Polk Street. Every single time I've heard that tune I've taken it as some message from God, a warning of things to come, a perfect description of my mashed-potato character”
—
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