It was a conscious decision. A friend of mine introduced me to Thompson with 'The Killer Inside Me' and then gave me a listing of his good work and the ones that aren't that good. Having read two absolute masterpieces, 'The Killer...' and 'The Getaway' I decided to sample the other end of the Thompson spectrum. I couldn't find 'King Blood', widely reckoned to be his very worst book, so this had to suffice.
The interesting thing is that it still has flashes of brilliance, moments of transcendence amidst the squalour. I have to admit to a certain morbid fascination as well, the urge to witness a massive talent in the process of unravelling - the same impulse, I am certain, that prompts continued sales of Syd Barrett's solo material.