Life, the Universe and Everything (The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy, #3) By Douglas Adams

The unhappy inhabitants of planet Krikkit are sick of looking at the night sky above their headsâ€"so they plan to destroy it. The universe, that is. Now only five individuals stand between the killer robots of Krikkit and their goal of total annihilation.

They are Arthur Dent, a mild-mannered space and time traveler who tries to learn how to fly by throwing himself at the ground and missing; Ford Prefect, his best friend, who decides to go insane to see if he likes it; Slartibartfast, the indomitable vice president of the Campaign for Real Time, who travels in a ship powered by irrational behavior; Zaphod Beeblebrox, the two-headed, three-armed ex-president of the galazy; and Trillian, the sexy space cadet who is torn between a persistent Thunder God and a very depressed Beeblebrox.

How will it all end? Will it end? Only this stalwart crew knows as they try to avert “universal” Armageddon and save life as we know itâ€"and don’t know it! Life, the Universe and Everything (The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy, #3)

حالا که داریم راجع به سوال نهایی فکر میکنیم، چرا این احتمال رو در نظر نگیریم که اصلا سوال نهایی وجود واقعی نداره؟ همه‌مون سرکاریم مونامی.
زندگی شبیه چیه؟ جوابی که بهش میدی فقط جهان بینی تو رو نشون نمیده ،بلکه صریحا روی بقیه ثانیه ها و صدم ثانیه‌های زندگیت هم تاثیر میذاره و اونو میسازه. تو میگی زندگی مثل یه پارک تفریحیه و میخوای هم از تونل وحشتش لذت ببری و هم پارک آبی‌ش. اون میگه زندگی مثل تبعید شدن به باغ عدنه و انسان مگنوم اوپس، که باید دل خالق رو بدست بیاره تا دوباره به جایگاه آسمانیش برگرده.
از نظر منم زندگی یه درامای انسانی از رنج ابدی و بدبختی، عشق، هوس، جنون و سرکشیه که توسط یک نمایشنامه نویس گیج نوشته شده و روی یک صحنه عظیم پر از هرج و مرج داره اجرا میشه.
بازیگرا اونقدر بی‌اهمیت ان که فراموش و رها شدن. کاملا رها شده ،از یاد رفته. هیچکس این دراما رو تماشا نمیکنه، این نمایش برای هیچ موجودی توی کائنات ذره ای اهمیت یا جذابیت نداره. شاید هم اونها بارها و بارها با سفینه هاشون از کنار این پلات رد شدن و نیم نگاهی ام بهش انداختن ،اما با خودشون گفتن این موجودات زشت دوپا و یک سر خیلی احمق بنظر میان، بعیده اونقدر بهره هوشی داشته باشن که بتونن سرمونو گرم کنن، پس گاز بده زودتر به پارتی برسیم.
نمایشنامه نویس هم توی همون پارتی انقدر نوشیده که یگوشه لایعقل افتاده.هرکی رد میشه یه تیپا بهش میزنه.

این ایده‌ای که گفتم منو به غایت خشمگین و عصبی میکنه، جوری که مجبورم سرمو توی بالشت فرو کنم فریاد بزنم و مشت بکوبم تا مغزم مثل نارنجک منفجر نشه. من میخوام غم من، رنج من، خشم من توی تمام جهان منعکس بشه. اونقدر بزرگ هست که بخوام تمام موجودات کائنات براش مویه کنن. من میخوام مرگ اونها برای دقیقه‌ای هم که شده مهمترین مسله جهان باشه. اما واقعیت اینه که این رنج هرچقدر هم حقیقی باشه یا حداقل من فکر کنم حقیقیه، توی جهان هیچکسی انعکاس نداره. این خیلی خیلی ترسناکه. من برای نمایشنامه نویس اهمیتی ندارم . تو هم نداری. ما همونقدر مهمیم که جلبک کف رودخونه. حتی مطمعن نیستم جلبک مهمتره یا نه.
آرزو میکنم همه تون توی این وحشت با من شریک باشید و عذاب بکشید.
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خوشبخت‌ترین موجودات کیهان از نظر من ساکنان سیاره کریکیت‌ان. اون مردم دراز رنگ پریده‌ی رمانتیک که علی‌رغم قیافه‌های افسرده و نگاههای رو به پایین، آوازهای شاد میخونن و به هیچی فکر نمیکنن یا نمیکردن.
سیاره کریکیت تا ابد تو یه حباب محبوسه که زمان و زندگی در اون بی‌نهایت آهسته می‌گذره. همه اشعه‌های نورِ دور و بر این حباب منحرف می‌شن تا حباب و سیاره داخل اون از چشم‌ها پنهان بمونن و هیچکی نتونه وارد اون‌ها بشه. امکان فرار از این حباب وجود نداره، مگر این‌که کسی از بیرون قفل اون رو باز کنه.
وقتی که بقیه جهان و کائنات به پایان نهاییِ خود می‌رسن و تمامِ عالم نفس‌های آخر خودش رو می‌کشه (البته این ایده مربوط به زمانی بود که مردم هنوز نمی‌دونستند که پایان جهان فقط یه بیزنس رستوران‌داریه) و زندگی و ماده برای همیشه از بین می‌ره، سیاره کریکیت و خورشید اون از حباب زمانی بیرون می‌ان و خوشحال از وجود نداشتن هیچ‌چیز دیگه‌ای غیر از کریکیت به زندگی مطلوب‌شون ادامه می‌دن.
کلید قفل این حباب روی یه سیارک کار گذاشته شده که در مداری بزرگ‌ دور حباب می‌چرخه. کلید سمبل کهکشانه: دروازه ویکیت.
اگه می خوایید بدونید این مونگولا چجوری از حبابشون بیرون میان و قراره چه بلائی سر کل کیهان بیارن، بهتره خودتون کتابو بخونید .
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نه به بدی جلد یک بود و نه به خوبی جلد دو. اما ناامیدم نکرد... English Brilliantly brilliant discussing brilliant things lol the kind of book that you can’t read wrong. While the characters haven’t changed too much it’s more about throwing them in the wildest scenarios and watching how their differing personalities interact, the questions they’re asking are getting better.

What makes this series stand out is the strength of the narrator. The narrator is incredibly prominent and steals the show most of the time. What makes this book so enjoyable are not the actions taken by the characters but the perception of their actions by the narrator.

The random thoughts always tie back into the narrative and the adventures continue to grow more and wilder. Poor Arthur lol

Oh also flight!!!!!!!!!! Sorry for the lack of punctuation I just had a lot of thoughts and no structure. 224
Another world, another day, another dawn.
The early morning’s thinnest sliver of light appeared silently. Several billion trillion tons of superhot exploding hydrogen nuclei rose slowly above the horizon and managed to look small, cold and slightly damp.
There is a moment in every dawn when light floats, there is the possibility of magic. Creation holds its breath.

... and then a voice from above utters the words:

“You’re a jerk, Dent!”

Arthur Dent has every reason to be both puzzled and angry at the blue skinned alien called Wowbagger the Infinitely Prolonged who came over the aeons only to insult him. In the previous two volume the hitchhiking Earthman served as a sort of lightning rod, attracting all sort of (explosive) troubles on his head.

He was stranded on prehistoric earth as the result of a complex sequence of events that had involved his being alternately blown up and insulted in more bizarre regions of the Galaxy than he had ever dreamed existed, and though life has now turned very, very, very quiet, he was still feeling jumpy.
He hadn’t been blown up now for five years.

Arthur Dent should actually rejoice at the respite he gets and at being back on his previously annihilated planet, but prehistoric times had very little to offer in the entertaining department. His melancholic mood is lyrically captured by an author who is more famous for his comedy chops:

In the end, it was the Sunday afternoons he couldn’t cope with, and that terrible listlessness that starts to set in at about 2:55, when you know you’ve taken all the baths you can usefully take that day, that however hard you stare at any given paragraph in the newspaper you will never actually read it, or use the revolutionary new pruning technique it describes, and that you stare at the clock the hands will move relentlessly on to four o’clock, and you will enter the long dark teatime of the soul. the passage is referring to the troubles with immortality that Wowbagger the Infinitely Prolonged is experiencing, but for me it has an universal resonance with regard to my own empty and dark weekends with nothing to do

Escape comes in the unusual form of a galloping Chesterfield sofa, but readers familiar with the style of Douglas Adams already know to be prepared for the unexpected and to always have a towel handy before they embark on a new adventure. Arthur Dent and his companion in exile Ford Perfect should also be more careful what they wish for, because times are about to get interesting and the boredom of prehistoric times will be sorely missed : an old friend, a planet designer specialising in shaping fjords, has need of their assistance for nothing less than the saving of the Universe.

“Deep in the fundamental heart of mind and Universe,” said Slartibartfast, “there is a reason.”
Ford glanced sharply around. He clearly thought this was taking an optimistic view of things. [...] “Where are we going?”
“We are going to confront an ancient nightmare of the Universe.”
“And where are you going to drop us off?”
“I will need your help.[...] A curse has arisen from the mists of time. A curse which will engulf the Galaxy in fire and destruction, and possibly bring the Universe to a premature doom. I mean it,” he added.
“Sounds like a bad time,” said Ford; “with luck I’ll be drunk enough not to notice. [...] My doctor says that I have a malformed public duty gland and a natural defficiency in moral fiber, and that I am therefore excused from saving Universes.”

Move over, Mr. Flash Gordon! Arthur Dent is taking over the role of saviour of the Universe and the quest starts right here on Earth (after alittle time travel on the Bistromathic spaceship) when alien war robots from the planet Krikkit are stealing a piece of junk from the middle of a sports field. For many readers, a piece of burned wood from Melbourne, Australia in the year 1882 would mean nothing, to others it is a holy relic of national pride. For Slartibartfast and his unwilling heroes, it is an artefact of ancient power and evil.

The game you know as cricket is just one of those curious freaks of racial memory that can keep images alive in the mind aeons after their true significance has been lost in the mists of time. Of all the races of the Galaxy, only the English could possibly revive the memory of the most horrific wars ever to sunder the Universe and transform it into what I am afraid is generally regarded as an incomprehensibly dull and pointless game.

... and so the journey into danger and adventure begins anew, with only a towel and a small tourist guide in my pockets, ready to witness the neverending wonders of the Universe.
Wheeee!!! Sign me in for the trip, Mr. Adams! Each episode is better than the previous one for me, and I am in awe at the inventivity of the setting, the satirical sharpness of the sketches, the all embracing and gentle acceptance of our human condition in a cold and hostile Universe. So fasten your seatbelts folks, relax and have an enormously long lunch break! Lunch breaks are apparently the secret of succes in business that all the big megacorporations are keeping mum about. Hurling Frootmig, it is said, founded the Guide, established its fundamental principles of honesty and idealism and went bust. Hurling only recovered when a friendly tip revealed to him the power of the mighty Lunch Break

Riding in a ship powered by advanced mathematics theories ( The Bistromathic Drive is a wonderful new method of crossing vast interstellar distances without all that dangerous mucking about with Improbability Factors. [...] The most extraordinary thing about it was that it looked only partly like a spaceship with guidance fins, rocket engines and escape hatches and so on, and a great deal like a small, upended Italian bistro. ), a ship made invisible by a force field called “Somebody Else’s Problem” , Arthur and his friends will guide my eyes towards the absurdity of war, making fun I suspect of some of my favorite epic fantasies series in the vein of J R R Tolkien:

The Silastic Armorfiends of Striterax were engaged in one of their regular wars with the Strenuous Garfighters of Stug, and were not enjoying it as much as usual because it involved and awful lot of trekking through the Radiation Swamps of Cwulzenda and across the Fire Mountains of Frazfraga, neither of which terrains they felt at home in.
So when the Strangulous Stillettans of Jajazikstak joined in the fray and forced them to fight another front in the Gamma Caves of Carfrax and the Ice storms on Varlengooten, they decided that enough was enough, and they ordered Hactar to design for them an Ultimate Weapon.
“What do you mean,” asked Hactar, “by Ultimate?”
To which the Silastic Armorfiends of Striterax said, “Read a bloody dictionary,” and plunged back into the fray.

Later on I get a chance to take part in the Ultimate Party to end all parties, a millenia long bash on a floating hotel that attracts the Galactic jet-set while making the host planet a wasteland through unbridled consumption and pollution. Sounds familiar? The Romans are reputed to say “Aftee us, the Flood!” and thinks apparently are unchanged in the future. Pro-Tip if you happen to get an invite: don’t use the word Belgium :

“Belgium,” exclaimed Arthur.
A drunken seven-toed sloth staggered past, gawked at the word and threw itself backward at a blurry-eyed pterodactyl, roaring with displeasure.

In between saving the Universe from its latest Ultimate Weapon of Total Annihilation, we might spent a moment on the issue of truth, as in shutting down the voices of reason and moderation:

When it became clear what was happening, and as it became clear that Prak could not be stopped, that here was truth in its absolute and final form, the court was cleared.
Not only cleared, it was sealed up, with Prak still in it. Steel walls were erected around it, and, just to be on the safe side, barbed wire, electric fences, crocodile swamps and three major armies were installed, so that no one would ever have to hear Prak speak.

What exactly did this man Prak know that was so dangerous to the establishement? Was he another Snowden shouting to the world that the emperor has no clothes on? We might never know more than the fact that it has something to do with frogs, because when Prak lays eyes on Arthur Dent mayhem issues:

He howled and screamed with laughter. He fell over backward onto the bench. He hollered and yelled in hysterics. He cried with laughter, kicked his legs in the air, he beat his chest. Gradually he subsided, panting. He looked at them. He looked at Arthur. He fell back again howling with laughter. Eventually he fell asleep.

In the end, laughter may be the best weapon we have at our disposal against the tyranny of people and the tyranny of time. Without a sense of humour life, the universe and everything are pointless and utterly depressing. The final scene is for me essential and relevant, but I think I’d better put it in a spoiler bracket:

Arthur Dent learns how to fly in this episode, he soars high above the petty worries of ordinary existence, and with the help of the Babel Fish he can even learn the language of birds. Are they the ultimate poets of flight or what?
Unfortunately, he discovered, once you have learned birdspeak you quickly come to realise that the air is full of it the whole time, just inane bird chatter. There is no getting away from it.
For that reason Arthur eventually gave up the sport and learned to live on the ground and love it, despite the inane chatter he heard down there as well.
Thank you again, Mr. Douglas, for the wisdom to accept the world as it is and for urging me to laugh on my way to the gallows to the tune of the Monty Python’s “Always Look on the Bright Side of Life”

An earlier passage is even more evocative for me of the unexpected depths of feeling underlining the hilarity and the sillyness of the expedition:

It seemed to him that the atoms of his brain and the atoms of the cosmos were streaming through each other. It seemed to him that he was blown on the wind of the Universe, and that the wind was him. It seemed to him that he was one of the thoughts of the Universe and that the Universe was a thought of his.

I hope I will find time for the next episode of the Hitchhker’s Guide soon. In the meantime I will let Marvin The Paranoid Android serenade you to sleep:

Now the world has gone to bed,
Darkness won’t engulf my head,
I can see in infrared,
How I hate the night.

Now I lay me down to sleep,
Try to count electric sheep.
Sweet dreams wishes you can keep,
How I hate the night.
Life, the Universe and Everything (The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy, #3) Finally, the answer to why the bowl of petunias thought, Oh no, not again. Paperback A series losing steam, and it's a real shame given the potential of the first two books--both fun, quick reads. This title is less focused on the sci-fi and philosophical underpinnings of the first two books. Instead, Adams here maintains sequences that hinge on bizarre chains of events and silly, ponderous exchanges between characters who have less and less of an idea as to what exactly is happening around them. These felt a long 200+ pages indeed.

The bon mots and clever passages are fewer and further between than the previous two installments. In fact, much of this book is rather uninspired and infuriating; the Krikkit robots, the Bistromathematics, the reincarnations of the hapless multiple-murder victim Agrajag... none of the set pieces gave me more than a brief chuckle. Much of what aims to pass for characteristic Adams whimsy feels perfunctory, and the string of coincidences that form the crux of the plot are truly slapdash.

The highlights for me here are Wowbagger the Infinitely Prolonged's perpetual misanthropy and what amounts to the only real meat of the book--the story of the reason why the ultimate question and answer of the universe are (putatively) mutually exclusive. Thus leading to So Long and Thanks for All the Fish. But nothing here matches the humor of, for instance, the truly inspired chapter containing the Hitchhiker's Guide's entry on The Universe in Restaurant at the End of the Universe.

When Adams is working with less inspired ideas, his inability to write characters as anything but vehicles for punchlines and guttural confusions is trying. Vonnegut, while a weak painter of convincing personalities, instills a sense of humanity and pathos in the proceedings that eludes Adams. Some sense of feeling and sympathy, perhaps, plays foil to the general absurdity of exposition and content in Vonnegut. This is why he's a better read if you're comparing the two as I feel prone to do, and one of several reasons I'm not too concerned with making it through last installments in this series.

All of that being said, I have to say that the ending is pretty simpatico with me. Maybe Adams should have left it all at that. Paperback

I've just read the most extraordinary thing. In the US version of the third novel of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, Life, the Universe and Everything, the word 'Belgium' is used to replace the word fuck which was in the British publication.

Apparently Douglas Adams' American publishers thought that some of the language in the book was too crude for Americans and asked him to take out the words 'fuck', 'asshole' and 'shit'. Adams' replaced asshole with kneebiter, shit with swut and fuck with Belgium! Sheer genius.

American publishers are pussies.

But you can kind of understand why when every now and again in the Feedback group someone whines that books need to be rated for language (not to mention amount of sex and violence) and there are groups devoted to letting people know if words that might upset their members are used. I remember one review where the woman said she went through the book and used a black marker on every single curse word. I hope it wasn't a library book.

But still, using Belgium, that was a low blow.
Douglas Adams Arthur Dent finds himself living alone on prehistoric Earth, in a cold damp cave. His friend Ford Prefect, bored has wandered off early without saying a word to Africa Arthur learns later. The duo time travelers are here not voluntarily and have tried to adjust, the whole gang's been scattered all through the Galaxy not a fun situation. Marvin the depressed but amusing robot, has conversations with a talking mattress in a strange planet, Trillian at a party that never ends and Zaphod Beeblebrox is sulking on the Heart of Gold, his spaceship ( almost, he borrowed it)... a lonely man. Never too well does Mr.Dent live, he's no great farmer or hunter not even very brave. Scraping just enough food to survive in this alien world, yes it's good old Terra but to the Englishman it might as well be Mars and speaking to trees to keep from becoming, insane ? The only excitement in the five stranded years here, ( or four?) came after a couple of trips around the Sun sometime ago. A spaceship landed in front of Arthur's dull cave and coming down the ramp a tall gray- green alien stranger said You're a jerk , Dent. The flabbergasted Arthur mumbled some incoherent noises which should have been words, before the alien went up the ramp again and left as quickly as he arrived. This mysterious creature is an immortal so lacking in things to do he has devised an activity maybe not the most worthwhile he himself acknowledges, and quite impossible also. To go and visit everyone in the Universe and insult them, a man can dream can't he ? Don't hate Mr. Wowbagger the Infinitely Prolonged, every man wants a hobby to keep busy. At last Prefect returns from Africa and tells the caveman about his bloody adventures there, more importantly of instability in the fabric of Space-Time as a sofa magically appears and disappears before their eyes. Ford Prefect says to Dent for their salvation go after it , running wildly down the hill the two jump, fall, roll trying to capture the piece of furniture as it gyrates fades in and out always moving up and down . At last jumping on the sofa and presto their back home immediately inside Slartibartfast. Ironically, the old retired planet builder's spaceship (but first landing on a cricket match, in London) only to discover the Planet Krikkit, wants to destroy the whole Universe, again...ouch .They must prevent them somehow but how ? It seems the unfortunate inhabitants of this sad world at the edge of the galaxy, have the worst night sky anywhere. Blackness, no stars or other planets even moons they lack ...nothing to see, a complete gloomy tedious darkness. A gigantic space cloud precludes any view not a fun place for stargazing, which really ticks them off you can imagine . A previous... conflict a little disagreement, you may say if you're in a grumpy mood...
war, just ten billion years before had devastated the galaxy, thousands of warships millions of killer white robots sent by Krikkit before it was stopped, not a very glorious conflict. The sequel could succeed in their deadly mission, such is the universe.... The five friends need to get together again, very soon indeed...They require each other's company. Douglas Adams Time travel killer robot fun

Dark fun
Some of the key elements of this third strike are the usually terrifying horrors of Sci-Fi with no reason to laugh and enjoy great entertainment, except if one is into that. But Adams has the ability to even turn extermination wars and sick mentalities into a funny and enlightening read.

Exterminate
Because it shows that hobbies like killing each living being in the universe without any good reason, or at least a created advantage, are ridiculous. And that any species that attempts wanton or accidental mass extinction, genocide, and extermination wars is in an immense state of madness. Looking at you humankind.

What time is it?
Another topic is good old time manipulation, great for plotting and producing funny situations. Just probably a bit difficult to use because it can get confusing in the wrong authors´ hands, it´s even difficult to just go through a day in reverse. Great material for future Sci-Fi works, be it time travel, different quickly passing time for protagonists, time bubbles, time dealers, thieves, magicians,... hard to list all novels containing elements of it.

Deeper meaning
Just like Pratchett, Adams has so much hidden under this allegedly trivial reading fun that one could write a thesis about the many implications his work is revealing. I would be very interested to know what Adams read as a kid and during his life and what inspired him to use Sci-Fi tropes in such a unique manner nobody else before did.

Tropes show how literature is conceptualized and created and which mixture of elements makes works and genres unique:
https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.ph...
https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.ph... Science Fiction, Mystery, Humor I'm getting very bored of this series. While I like the characters and I understand the humour, I'm not laughing. I read these novels with a smile, not a smirk. English Yo Wowbagger!

An ancient danger threatens to resurface and destroy the universe. The townsfolk of Krikkit doesn’t like to see so many bright dots on their night sky, so they plan to correct it, by wiping out every planet in the galaxy. Dent, Ford, Trillian and Zhapod, the crazy quartet of misfortune, will simply try not to make things worse.

An interesting new installment. Arthur and Ford back on the spot light, Trillian with a brief protagonism nearing the end, and, thank God, a whole lot less Zhapod. Adams writing ever so magnificently satirical, far from that perfect #1, but much better than #2. A certainly entertaining sequel, hilarious from time to time, and with some memorable moments. Just loved the introduction of Wowbagger. Marvin was my favorite character, but the throne now belongs to Wowbagger, a highly controversial character, but with an admirable purpose.

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PERSONAL NOTE:
[1982] [224p] [Humor] [Not Recommendable] [“Krikkit believe in peace, justice, morality, culture, sport, family life, and the obliteration of all other life forms”] [“His name was Wowbagger. He was a man with a purpose. Not a very good purpose, as he would have been the first to admit, but it was at least a purpose that keep him on the move. He would insult the Universe. That is, he would insult everybody in it. Individually, personally, one by one, and in alphabetical order.” ]
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Hey Wowbagger!

Un antiguo peligro amenaza con resurgir y destruir el universo. A los ciudadanos de Krikkit no les gusta ver tantos puntos brillantes en su cielo a la noche, por lo cual planean corregirlo, borrando del mapa todos los planetas de la galaxia. Dent, Ford, Trillian y Zhapod, el disparatado cuarteto de la desgracia, simplemente tratarán de no empeorar las cosas.

Una interesante nueva entrega. Arthur y Ford vuelven a la escena principal, Trillian con un leve protagonismo casi al final, y, gracias a Dios, mucho menos Zhapod. La pluma de Adams tan magníficamente satírica como siempre, lejos de esa perfección del #1, pero mucho mejor que #2. Una secuela ciertamente entretenida, muy graciosa a veces, y con algunos momentos para el recuerdo. Simplemente amé la introducción de Wowbagger. Marvin era mi personaje preferido, pero el trono ahora le pertenece a Wowbagger, un personaje altamente controversial, pero con un propósito admirable.

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NOTA PERSONAL:
[1982] [224p] [Humor] [No Recomendable] [“Krikkit cree en la paz, justicia, moralidad, cultura, deporte, la vida familiar, y la obliteración de otras formas de vida”] [“Su nombre era Wowbagger. El era un hombre con un propósito. No un propósito muy bueno, como él hubiera sido el primero en admitir, pero era al menos un propósito que lo mantenía en movimiento. El iba a insultar el Universo. Es decir, insultaría a todos en él. Individualmente, personalmente, uno por uno, y en orden alfabético.”]
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