It’s one of two - either The Rum Diary by Hunter S. Thompson, or On The Road by Jack Kerouac. Both for the same reasons - the way they’re written is so freeing, so visceral, so heady that you can’t help but get immersed in them. It’s hard to pick between the two, because each one outweighs in the other in one regard. With The Rum Diary, the writing style’s that much more lucid. Hunter S. Thompson was at his best when he deviated from the truth, so when he sat down and wrote novels - like this one, or like Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas - he was at the top of his game. Every word of The Rum Diary, you’re forced to feel at gunpoint. On the other hand, it’s indisputable that On The Road has more literary weight, and with good reason - Hunter S. Thompson was a journalist first and foremost, who just happened to write a couple of fantastic fiction pieces. Kerouac was a writer first and foremost, but you can’t argue that he injected his own experiences into his writing. In a way, though, with On The Road the experiences are matched by the style and sense of completion - it feels like a more fleshed out work. The Rum Diary, though… while it sparks at the ends, it’s a live wire start to finish.

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