They insisted that I should read this book. Now that I have read it, I could only wish everybody who thought I should read a really good book would insist that I did so with enough enthusiasm for me to go about and actually do it -- I myself of course being the judge of what is healthy enthusiasm and what is just plainly annoying insistence. Anyway, I remember hearing about this book a couple of years ago, I think when the movie premiered. Due to sheer lack of information about its coolness, only a couple of months later would I find myself watching it, and not even at the movies, but at home. Right now I can't remember what my opinion was: I probably enjoyed it, as it displays a sort of unlikely romance between cute Zooey Deschanel and rather okay Martin Freeman.
More recently, a friend gave me some useful piece of warning on one particular matter I had trouble figuring out. "Yes", I was told, "you will screw things up if by any event you come to read The Restaurant at the end of the Universe before you read The Guide." Not only these books are supposed to be part of a series, I found out, but the series itself happens to take place at a very peculiarly cohesive Universe. So I waited. It took a couple of weeks to get the whole thing done, first finding the book on Estante Virtual, then proceeding to payment, then holding my breath until the seller would confirm that he had received my money and finally being able to read the bloody book. Somewhere in between I got to find out that "pocket book" is a good expression:
But let's talk about plot. Let's talk about Arthur Dent, one of the last pieces of one gigantic and powerful computer once known as planet Earth. He's a nice bloke. One morning he wakes up to find out that his house is being demolished -- much like what he thought to be his planet, which was being demolished by builders of interstellar roads. Aliens, I mean to say. And while this last case of demolition was handled with almost no resistance by earthlings in general -- since resistance towards a Vogon is useless --, Arthur very bravely tried to stop the demolition of his little house.
"Human beings are great adapters, and by lunchtime life in the environs of Arthur's house had settled into a steady routine. It was Arthur's accepted role to lie squelching in the mud making occasional demands to see his lawyer, his mother or a good book; it was Mr. Prosser's accepted role to tackle Arthur with the occasional new ploy such as For the Public Good talk, or the March of Progress talk, the They Knocked My House Down Once You Know, Never Looked Back talk and various other cajoleries and threats; and it was the bulldozer drivers' accepted role to sit around drinking coffee and experimenting with union regulations to see how they could turn the situation to their financial advantage."
I don't remember quite well if Arthur's house is destroyed on its own or if it simply dematerializes with the rest of the planet. What I know is that he somehow flees England and basically survives the worldwide Armageddon. His source of knowledge in this new chaotic scenario becomes this most strange book called The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, a compilation of travel tips from people -- or creatures, if you will -- familiar with the marvels of hyperspace traveling. And the point made couldn't be clearer: the Universe is a weird place.
But other than the Life, the Universe and Everything, Douglas Adams does write about trivial things, such as language and demands.
"Another thing that got forgotten was the fact that against all probability a sperm whale had suddenly been called into existence several miles above the surface of an alien planet. And since this is not a naturally tenable position for a whale, this poor innocent creature had very little time to come to terms with its identity as a whale before it then had to come to terms with not being a whale anymore.
This is a complete record of its thought from the moment it began its life till the moment it ended it.
Ah... ! What's happening? it thought.
Er, excuse me, who am I?
Hello?
Why am I here? What's my purpose in life?
What do I mean by who am I?
Calm down, get a grip now... oh! this is an interesting sensation, what is it? It's a sort of... yawning, tingling sensation in my.... my... well, I suppose I'd better start finding names for things if I want to make any headway in what for the sake of what I shall call an argument I shall call the world, so let's call it my stomach.
Good. Ooooh, it's getting quite strong. And hey, what about this whistling roaring sound going past what I'm suddenly going to call my head? Perhaps I can call that... wind! Is that a good name? It'll do... perhaps I can find a better name for it later when I've found out what it's for. It must be something very important because there certainly seems to be a hell of a lot of it. Hey! What's this thing? This... let's call it a tail -- yeah, tail. Hey! I can really trash it about pretty good, can't I? Wow! Wow! That feels great! Doesn't seem to achieve very much but I'll probably find out what it's for later on. Now, have I built up any coherent picture of things yet?
No.
Never mind, hey, this is really exciting, so much to find out about, so much to look forward to, I'm quite dizzy with anticipation...
Or is it the wind?
There really is a lot of that now, isn't there?
And wow! Hey! What's this thing suddenly coming toward me very fast? Very, very fast. So big and flat and round, it needs a big wide-sounding name like... ow... ound... round... ground! That's it. That's a good name-- ground!
I wonder if it will be friends with me?"
***
" A sudden commotion destroyed the moment: the door flew open and two angry men wearing the coarse faded-blue robes and belts of the Cruxman University burst into the room, thrusting aside the ineffectual flunkie who tried to bar their way.
'We demand admission!' shouted the younger of the two men, elbowing a pretty young secretary in the throat.
'Come on,' shouted the older one, 'you can't keep us out!' He pushed a junior programmer back through the door.
'We demand that you can't keep us out!' bawled the younger one, though he was now firmly inside the room and no further attempts were being made to stop him.
'Who are you?' said Lunkwill, rising angrily from his seat. 'What do you want?'
'I am Majikthise!' announced the older one.
'And I demand that I am Vroomfondel!' shouted the younger one.
Majikthise turned on Vroomfondel. 'It's all right,' he explained angrily, 'you don't need to demand that'.
'All right!' bawled Vroomfondel, banging on a nearby desk. 'I am Vroomfondel, and that is not a demand, that is a solid fact! What we demand is solid facts!'
'No, we don't!' exclaimed Majikthise in irritation. 'That is precisely what we don't demand!'
Scarcely pausing for breath, Vroomfondel shouted, 'We don't demand solid facts! What we demand is total absence of solid facts. I demand that I may or may not be Vroomfondel!'
'But who the devil are you?' exclaimed an outraged Fook.
'We,' said Majikthise, 'are Philosophers.'
'Though we may not be,' said Vroomfondel, waving a warning finger at the programmers.
'Yes, we are,' insisted Majikthise. 'We are quite definitely here as representatives of the Amalgamated Union of Philosophers, Sages, Luminaries an Other Thinking Persons, and we want this machine off, and we want it now.!'
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