Lower Decks

To be really appropriate with this column, it should have landed about eleven weeks ago (when I wrote about the X-Men back at the end of July). What number is associated with Douglas Adams’ Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy? 42, of course. But I had to wait, because this week was a special occasion for this particular brand of genre fan. The so-called sixth book in the trilogy, ‘And Another Thing…’ was released. There was something of a dilemma when the publisher realized that Adams was in fact dead and so couldn’t complete the book on his own, let alone write it, so Eoin Colfer was tricked into it. Something about being forced to attend a poetry recital if he didn’t. Either way, Arthur Dent was sure to be the brunt of the joke yet again.

Hitchhiker’s Guide is one of those things that is readily contagious, something I caught in high school while it was making the rounds of my friends, and I haven’t been able to shake it. The history of it is somewhat complicated, there seeming to be some despite as to whether it originated as a radio presentation or a book (I argue that even if it started as one thing, it will always best be known as the other, but then, I still haven’t heard any of the recordings), but it’s best to conclude that it is, finally, a legend. Even as a fan who devoured the five original books, I couldn’t tell you much of what happens beyond the first one, only that, well, Arthur Dent was sure to be the brunt of the joke yet again, after initially finding himself almost the lone survivor of Earth’s destruction to make room for an intergalactic highway. It was the writing, the impeccable imagination and wit of Douglas Adams that sustained the story. Later, some chap named Terry Pratchett would inherit the formula, which he would chain to Discworld, but there was something especially unique about the way it had originated in such an irreverent manner, the way Adams based his reputation on something he hardly could be forced to duplicate more than a handful of times, like Monty Python doing a few seasons of a show, then a few movies, or the Beatles spending ten years making music, and the three entities creating the bulk of modern British culture as we know it.

I grew to appreciate Adams perhaps a little more for another creation he propagated even more reluctantly (an uncompleted story making the bulk of a posthumously published book called ‘Salmon of Doubt’), the Dirk Gently mysteries. ‘The Long Dark Tea-Time of the Soul’ is a book I will unabashedly recommend at every opportunity (seriously; those of you who remember my Neil Gaiman column might remember ‘American Gods,’ which is a book that follows in the same spirit, so if you haven’t read either, read both now). Given the ability to find them (I somehow am reluctant to conclude every great quest on the Internet), Adams has more books still, nonfiction work that follows some of his passions, and some day I will have more of him to enjoy.

But his legacy, and the best way to appreciate his contribution to the world is to read Douglas Adams as chief scribe of the Hitchhiker’s Guide. It’s easy to do this for the amateur fortune seeker, since the five original books have long been available in a single volume, and they result in an acquisition as necessary as a towel for anyone’s personal effects. You can sometimes even find the individual books themselves. I am personally aware of some fairly recent paperback editions that reproduce the original covers, and what they might look like in the possession of those who were wise and young enough to have collected them when they were first published. I am also aware that you could find them at terrific bargain prices at the better bookstores.

But I am not trying to sell these books in this column. Anyone foolish enough to have heard about them but refused to actually read them deserves to attend a poetry recital right away. Which leads me to an embarrassing admission: at least in the form the Vogons have been presented to me, I would not actually mind their infinitely terrible poetry. Mostly because I find that when someone tries to be a serious poet, their work is invariably far more excruciating. No, this column is about a love affair, which is sometimes hijacked by disgraced galactic presidents for their own nefarious purposes.

One other way in which I am able to identify myself as a fan is the 2005 movie. For some reason, I find myself in a tiny minority of Hitchhiker’s fans who greatly enjoyed this film, which is greatly confusing, because Adams himself long dreamed and worked toward a film version of his story, and would have been one of its most enthusiastic viewers. Possibly because the BBC had previously adapted the first book in a visual fashion, not everyone thought it was as crucial. I don’t know. I guess. Still, ‘Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy,’ the 2005 film, quickly became one of my favorite movies, regardless of my familiarity with the material, from the casting to the execution (possibly mostly to the opening musical sequence of dolphins expressing their lasting gratitude as they abandon us to our sorry fate), to the fact that even in crafting some original material, it still felt exactly like what I had always imagined a functioning Douglas Adams reality to be.

Like ‘Lemony Snicket’s A Series of Unfortunate Events’ (the movie), I never expected Hammer & Tongs (director Garth Jennings and producer Nick Goldsmith) would have the opportunity to continue the story, but it felt as if they had cemented the cinematic statement for Hitchhiker’s Guide well enough that, threats of poetry recitals aside, it was as much as a fan could expect. You can’t have a Harry Potter every time a beloved book series manages to find itself to the big screen (image the poor Dark Materials fans when they discovered that they’d fall short by two! out of three!). Appreciated or not, there is now a movie, and thanks for all the popcorn.

There is also now a sixth book. This might seem a tad outrageous (not as bad as losing your entire planet, though), and maybe not respectful of the dead (but then, there’s that movie that turned out perfectly okay), but I think it actually strengthens the whole thing. Like this summer’s Star Trek reboot, it’s a sign that Hitchhiker’s has exactly the kind of staying power that its fans have always known, and it’s not just that people will still enjoy the original books, but that it is now possible to think of it as a continuing, living entity, something that doesn’t need its original author to continue. This doesn’t take anything away from Adams so much as affirms that his mark was so unique that it’s possible to do what he did without him having to do it, like walking a trail others have worked into the woods. Although I haven’t read ‘And Another Thing…’ yet, I’ve read enough to know that Colfer knows enough to know what he’s doing. He’s already made a reputation for himself with his Artemis Fowl books (some of the first ones to expand the scope of readers who were just beginning to read thanks to Harry Potter), but what’s more important, he’s approached the project with just the right humor (on the back of the dust jacket and in the introduction is a quote from Adams that provides the perfect excuse for the whole thing, and the title), which is not the same as the humor he borrows, or has inherited, from Adams in a completely different sense.

It’s true that there will never be another comedy troupe quite like Monty Python, or a band like the Beatles, but Douglas Adams was, originally, quite contentedly defined as a single individual. Perfect collaborations are one thing, but to capture the essence of one man quite another. For one, they’re easier to eat. Five books was a good start. Adding one more, without duplicating exactly what Adams did, couldn’t have been more difficult for Colfer to accomplish than becoming a fan. Fans, even if they start as an epidemic, are always experiencing a personal discovery, one they begin to interpret as their own, and so it’s easier to comprehend and thus perhaps continue what a single person has already done (and perhaps why fans or writers of TV shows often mirror the specific make-up of its creators, either single or contained groups of creators, or a revolving door).

And thus, my readers are ready for my concluding announcement: I am writing the seventh book of the trilogy. Just kidding! I will probably write much more about the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy in the future, possibly even try to map out the rest of the nonsense that happened once Arthur Dent lost his planet, fell in with Ford Prefect, Zaphod, Marvin, and Trillian, and somehow confronted Life, the Universe, and Everything, but for now, I will just be embarrassed that it took me a year to get around to talking about it in the first place. Maybe I was waiting for the question. The answer, of course, is 42.