More
than forty years of age. A couple thousand books read. Hundreds of
science fiction novels in my library. And yet, I still had not read
Douglas Adam’s Hitchhiker’s
Guide to the Galaxy
(1979). That is, until now.
Arthur
Dent awakes one day to find bulldozers outside his front door,
waiting to plow his house under to make room for a new freeway. A
man named Ford Prefect approaching, he convinces Dent to go out for
some fresh air as the world is going to end in five minutes anyway,
and that it would be best to spend those five minutes with Prefect as
he has an escape route. The prophecy coming true, Dent finds himself
aboard a space ship as the Earth disappears in a cloud of dust—the
alien Vogons having cleared the planet to make room for a new
intergalactic highway. Picaresque the only word to describe it,
Dent’s subsequent adventures zipping across the galaxy involve a
morose robot, Prefect’s two-headed (and wonderfully named) cousin
Zaphod Beeblebrox, and the only other person to survive Earth’s
destruction, Tricia McMillan. Let the fun begin!
As
one can inherently feel while reading, The
Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy
is based on a stage production. A tongue-in-cheek, dialogue-based
adventure moving from scene to scene, Hitchhiker’s
Guide is
at times laugh-out-loud funny and always unpredictable. Despite all
the years of not having read the book, I now see the appeal (as well
as one of Terry Pratchett’s main inspirations). Adams’ sense of
humor—from similes to one-liners—is wholly British, and wholly
uproarious. Dent a true fish out of water, the opportunities are
capitalized upon in wonderful ways.
That
being said, Hitchhiker’s
Guide
feels only like Act I. The book ends at a convenient pause, not a
natural point in the story arc. It’s not quite mid-sentence,
rather mid-flight (between cloud 37 and cloud 38 when the stewardess
disappeared to get the drinks tray). The best way of putting is:
this is a book that, if you enjoy the story beyond the style and
humor, it will not be enough. You will need to read on to find out
what happens.
I
don’t know how many other ‘big name’ science fiction novels
still exist that I haven’t read, but I can’t help but feel
Hitchhiker’s
Guide was
the biggest. And now I understand the fuss. A wonderfully
satirical mix of joy in life and profound observation about its
foibles, it’s an enjoyable novel at every level that fans of Terry
Pratchett and Robert Sheckley (and vice versa for that remaining 1%
besides me who hadn’t read the novel) will enjoy. Adams in full
command of every word he puts on the page, it’s most lovable at the
prosaic level, but we have to tune in to the next novel in the
series, The
Restaurant at the End of Time
(and likely further sequels), to experience the complete idea.
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