OK, let’s get that disclaimer stuff out of the way. I’m about to tell you about a book and you should know that I blurbed on the cover. No, I didn’t puke on it. That just means that I said nice stuff about it, in an effort to get you to buy the book.

I did it because it’s a good book and because the publisher asked me. But how often do I waste your time writing about a book I don’t like?  So I’d write about this book anyway.

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“This book” is Jay Cowan’s memoir of life with Hunter S. Thompson. Cowan spent several years living across the driveway from the Gonzo King  at Owl Farm. He was caretaker, protégé and confidant. His book gives us a look at Thompson that few could ever offer. Only a few other people in the planet had a better look at Thompson: a couple of wives, some girlfriends and the Gonzo writer’s long-suffering assistant, Deborah Fuller. All of those other people who wrote about Thompson – they never had to live with the guy.

The only weak point of Cowan’s book is its title – Hunter S. Thompson: An Insider’s View of Deranged, Depraved and Drugged-Out Brilliance (The Lyons Press, $24.95). It gives the impression that it’s another book of Amazing Drug Tales with Hunter.

It’s not. It’s a journey inside the life of a writer who was not appreciated enough during his lifetime. Hunter Thompson wasn’t taken seriously by a lot of folks mostly because he made it look so easy. Cowan’s book is a trip behind the wall, a study of  the craft that went into Thompson’s writing. Cowan was there for a lot of the pain and struggle, too.

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That caricature had a place in Thompson’s reality, but it was magnified by its creator for literary effect. Cowan (that's him, at left) was often on call as one of Thompson’s friends who helped him focus his thoughts, prepare arguments and get ready to write. He did a lot of face time with the real guy.

Cowan’s book is a good companion to another memoir by Thompson friends, The Kitchen Readings by Michael Cleverly and Bob Braudis (HarperCollins, $13.95). Braudis, the local sheriff, and Cleverly, an artist living down Woody Creek Road, focus more on the social Hunter Thompson, the prankster and propane-tank exploder. It’s good fun.

But Cowan set out to honor his mentor and tell us what he learned from watching the iconoclastic writer at close range. He understudied Thompson in order to become a successful writer himself. He did, and his elegant and thoughtful style gives the book the perfect tone. It’s a reflection on the life of a friend and his meteoric rise and fall. He certainly doesn’t ignore Thompson the fun beast, so it’s a hugely entertaining book.

Cowan also covers territory no one else has yet dealt with – the struggles of the inner circle of Thompson’s friends and family, as they deal with the loss and try to fill the void in their lives.

Such a deeply felt, beautifully written book probably needs a more accurate title, perhaps something drawn from the Samuel Taylor Coleridge quote featured on the memorial card at Thompson’s funeral: “For he on honey-dew hath fed, / and drunk the milk of paradise.”

ANTHOLOGIES ANYONE?: It’s a tough time to sell any kind of book in this economically deprived, ever-more-illiterate world. That goes if you’re Stephen King or Danielle Steel.

So an anthology is a particularly tough sell. But I’m a big fan of them. I love books  focused on subjects, not writers. Gather a bunch of great writers together and have them write about gardening or underwear or beer. You’ll end up with a pretty interesting book.

But a tough book to market.

Still, we beat on, boats against the current and all that. A writer and literary agent named Andrew Blauner has put together a couple of great anthologies – and they’re great because of the themes he’s picked.

Brothers (Jossey-Bass,  $24.95) delves into those complex relationships often overshadowed in today’s culture. It almost seems against the law to discuss men and their feelings and the emotions they have for those other men that they grew up with.

Men express affection in odd ways – often through verbal abuse (playing the dozens) or by studiously avoiding any talk of love or admiration.

So don’t expect Wally and Beave time. Instead, you’ll get David Sedaris’ slack-jawed admiration for his younger brother’s apocalyptic swearing, (Truly a laugh-until-you-cry story.)

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Mikal Gilmore again writes of his fractured family. He wrote years ago of his most famous brother, executed killer Gary Gilmore. Now he’s reconnecting with brother Frank.

Domminick Dunne writes about the death of his often-estranged brother, John Gregory Dunne. Theirs was a complicated relationship, wrapped up as it was in a swath of Catholic guilt.

Brothers is a great anthology, but it won’t be in stores for six weeks or so. Place your order now and in the mean time, busy yourself with Blauner’s earlier book, Coach (Warner Books, $14.99). Once again, it’s a brilliant idea for a book. After all, who among us hasn’t had a run-in with a coach? My junior high coaches in Texas were responsible for the development of the wishbone offense, but they were also sadistic bastards. My high school coach, who seemed like such a prick at the time, turned out of to be a great guy when we had a beer 10 years after graduation.

Once again, Blauner has assembled a great cast of characters: John McPhee, Frank Deford, George Plimpton, Bill Bradley and Buzz Bissinger. Who wouldn’t want to have these guys on their team?

Some of the stories do follow the asshole-to-great-mentor path, but most of them take odd turns. Like all great anthologies, Coach is full of surprises.

William McKeen is chairman of the University of Florida’s Department of Journalism and author of several books, including the Hunter S. Thompson biography Outlaw Journalist.