An Englishman's continuing search through space and time for a decent cup of tea . . . Arthur Dent's accidental association with that wholly remarkable book, The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, has not been entirely without incident. Arthur has traveled the length, breadth, and depth of known, and unknown, space. He has stumbled forward and backward through time. He has been blown up, reassembled, cruelly imprisoned, horribly released, and colorfully insulted more than is strictly necessary. And of course Arthur Dent has comprehensively failed to grasp the meaning of life, the universe, and everything. Arthur has finally made it home to Earth, but that does not mean he has escaped his fate. Arthur's chances of getting his hands on a decent cuppa have evaporated rapidly, along with all the world's oceans. For no sooner has he touched down on the planet Earth than he finds out that it is about to be blown up . . . again. And Another Thing . . . is the rather unexpected, but very welcome, sixth installment of the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy series. It features a pantheon of unemployed gods, everyone's favorite renegade Galactic President, a lovestruck green alien, an irritating computer, and at least one very large slab of cheese.
About the Author
Eoin Colfer is the New York Times best-selling author of the Artemis Fowl series, Airman, Half Moon Investigations, The Supernaturalist, Eoin Colfer's Legend of... books, The Wish List, Benny and Omar; and Benny and Babe. He lives in Ireland with his wife and two children.
Hometown:Wexford Town, County Wexford, Republic of Ireland
Date of Birth:May 14, 1965
Place of Birth:Waterford City, County Waterford, Republic of Ireland
Education:Bachelor of Education, 1986; Education Diploma, 1987
Read an Excerpt
According to a janitor's assistant at the Maximegalon University, who often loiters outside lecture halls, the universe is sixteen billion years old. This supposed truth is scoffed at by a clutch of Betelgeusean beat poets who claim to have moleskin pads older than that (rat a tat-tat). Seventeen billion, they say, at the very least, according to their copy of the Wham Bam Big Bang scrolls. A human teenage prodigy once called it at fourteen billion based on a complicated computation involving the density of moon rock and the distance between two pubescent females on an event horizon. One of the minor Asgardian gods did mumble that he'd read something somewhere about some sort of a major-ish cosmic event eighteen billion years ago, but no one pays much attention to pronouncements from on high anymore, not since the birth of the gods debacle, or Thorgate as it has come to be known.
However many billions it actually is, it is billions, and the old man on the beach looked as though he'd counted off at least one of those million millions on his fingers. His skin was ivory parchment, and viewed in profile he closely resembled a quavering uppercase S.
The man remembered having a cat once, if memories could be trusted as anything more than neuron configurations across trillions of synapses. Memories could not be touched with one's fingers. Could not be felt like the surf flowing over his gnarled toes could be felt. But then what were physical feelings but more electrical messages from the brain? Why believe in them either? Was there anything trustworthy in the Universe that one could hug and hold onto like a Hawaliusian wind staunch in the midst of a butterfly storm, apartfrom a Hawaliusian wind staunch.
Bloody butterflies, thought the man. Once they'd figured out the wing fluttering a continent away thing, millions of mischievous lepidoptera had banded together and turned malicious.
Surely that cannot be real, he thought. Butterfly storms?
But then more neurons poured across even more synapses and whispered of improbability theories. If a thing was bound never to happen, then that thing would resolutely refuse not to happen as soon as possible.
Butterfly storms. It was only a matter of time.
The old man wrenched his focus from this phenomenon before some other catastrophe occurred to him and began its rough slouch to be born.
Was there anything to trust? Anything to take comfort from?
The setting suns lit crescents on the wavelets, burnished the clouds, striped the palm leaves silver, and set the china pot on his veranda table twinkling.
Ah, yes, thought the old man. Tea. At the center of an uncertain and possibly illusory universe there would always be tea.
The old man traced two natural numbers in the sand with a walking stick fashioned from a discarded robot leg and watched as the waves washed them away.
One moment, there was forty-two and the next there wasn't.
Maybe the numbers were never there and perhaps they didn't even matter.
For some reason this made the old man cackle as he leaned into the incline and plodded to his veranda. He settled with much creaking of bone and wood into a wicker chair that was totally sympathetic to the surroundings, and called to his android to bring some biscuits.
The android brought Rich Tea.
Seconds later the sudden appearance of a hovering metal bird caused a momentary lapse in dunking concentration and the old man lost a large crescent of his biscuit to the tea.
"Oh, for heaven's sake," grumbled the man. "Do you know how long I have been working on that technique? Dunking and sandwiches. What else is left to a person?"
The bird was unperturbed.
"An unperturbed bird," said the old man softly, enjoying the sound of it. He closed the bad eye that hadn't worked properly since he'd fallen out of a tree as a giddy boy, and examined the creature.
The bird hovered, its metallic feathers shimmering crimson in the sun's rays, its wings beating up tiny maelstroms.
"Battery," it said in a voice that reminded the old man of an actor he had once seen playing Othello at London's Globe Theatre. Amazing what you can get from the tone of a single word.
"You did say battery?" said the man, just to confirm. It could possibly have been flattery, or even hattery. His hearing was not what it used to be, especially on initial consonants.
"Battery," said the bird again, and suddenly reality cracked and fell to pieces like a shattered mirror. The beach disappeared, the waves froze, crackled, and evaporated. The last thing to go was the Rich Tea.
"Bugger," muttered the old man as the final crumbs dissipated on his fingertips, then he sat back on a cushion in the room of sky that suddenly surrounded him. Someone would be coming soon, he was sure of it. From the dim caverns of his old memories, the names Ford and Prefect emerged like gray bats to associate themselves with the impending disaster.
Whenever the Universe fell apart, Ford Prefect was never far behind. Him and that accursed book of his. What was it called? Oh, yes. The Pitchforker's Pride Is a Fallacy.
That, or something very close to it.
The old man knew exactly what Ford Prefect would say.
Look on the bright side, old mate. At least you're not lying down in front of a bulldozer, eh? At least we're not being flushed out of a Vogon air lock. A room of sky is not too shabby, as it happens. It could be worse, a lot worse.
"It will be a lot worse," said the old man with gloomy certainty. In his experience, things generally got worse, and on the rare occasion when things actually seemed to get better, it was only as a dramatic prelude to a cataclysmic worsening.
Oh, this room of sky seemed harmless enough, but what terrors lurked beyond its rippling walls? None that were not terrible, of that the old man was certain.
He poked a finger into one of the wall's yielding surfaces and was reminded of tapioca pudding, which almost made the old man smile, until he remembered that he had hated tapioca ever since a bullying head boy had filled his slippers with the stuff back in Eaton House Prep.
"Blisters Smyth, you sneaky shit," he whispered.
His fingertip left a momentary hole in the clouds, and through it the old man caught a glimpse of a double-height sash window beyond, and outside the window, could that be a death ray?
The old man rather feared that it was.
All this time, he thought. All this time and nothing has happened.
Ford Prefect was living the dream. Providing the dream included residence in one of Han Wavel's ultraluxury, five-supergiant-rated, naturally eroded hedonistic resorts, filling one's waking hours with permanent damage amounts of exotic cocktails, and liaisons with exotic females of various species.
And the best bit: The expense of this whole self-indulgent and possibly life-shortening package would be taken care of by his Dine-O-Charge card, which had no credit limit thanks to a little creative computer tinkering on his last visit to the Hitchhiker's Guide offices.
If a younger Ford Prefect had been handed a blank page and asked to, in his own time, write a short paragraph detailing his dearest wishes for his own future, the only word he might have amended in the above was the adverb possibly. Probably.
The resorts of Han Wavel were so obscenely luxurious that it was said a Brequindan male would sell his mother for a night in the Sandcastle Hotel's infamous vibro-suite. This is not as shocking as it sounds, as parents are accepted currency on Brequinda and a nicely moisturized septuagenarian with a good set of teeth can be traded for a mid-range family moto-carriage.
Ford would perhaps not have sold either parent to finance his sojourn at the Sandcastle, but there was a bicranial cousin who was often more trouble than he was worth.
Every night, Ford rode the fleshevator to his penthouse, croaked at the door to grant him entry, then made time to look himself in the bloodshot eyes before passing out facedown in the basin.
This is the last night, he swore nightly. Surely my body will revolt and collapse in on itself.
What would his obituary say in the Hitchhiker's Guide? Ford wondered. It would be brief, that was for sure. A couple of words. Perhaps the same two words he had used to describe Earth all those years ago.
Earth. Hadn't something rather sad happened on Earth that he should be thinking about? Why were there some things he could remember and others that were about as clear as a hazy morning on the permanently fogbound Misty Plains of Nephologia?
It was generally at about this maudlin stage that the third Gargle Blaster squeezed the last drop of consciousness from Ford's overjuiced brain and he would giggle twice, squawk like a rodeo chicken, and execute a near perfect forward tumble into the nearest bathroom receptacle.
And yet every morning when he lifted his head from the en suite basin (if he was lucky), Ford found himself miraculously revitalized. No hangover, no dragon breath, not even a burst blood vessel in either sclera to bear witness to the previous night's excesses.
"You are a froody dude, Ford Prefect," he invariably told himself. "Yes, you are."
There is something fishy going on here, his rarely-heard-from subconscious insisted.
So long and thanks for all the
Wasn't there something about dolphins? Not fish, true, but they inhabited the same...habitat.
Think, you idiot! Think! You should be dead a hundred times over. You have consumed enough cocktails to pickle not only yourself but several alternate versions of yourself. How are you still alive?
"Alive and froody," Ford would say, often winking at himself in the mirror, marveling at how lustrous his red hair had become. How pronounced his cheekbones. And he seemed to be growing a chin. An actual chiseled chin.
"This place is doing me good," he told his reflection. "All the photo-leech wraps and the irradiated colono-lemming treatments are really boosting my system. I think I owe it to Ford Prefect to stay another while."
And so he did.
On the last day, Ford charged an underwater massage to his credit card. The masseur was a Damogranian pom-pom squid with eleven tentacles and a thousand suckers that pummeled Ford's back and cleaned out his pores with a series of whiplash tapotement moves. Pom-pom squids were generally hugely overqualified for their work in the spa industry, but were tempted away from their umpteenth doctorates by the lure of high salaries, plankton-rich pools, and the chance of massaging a talent scout for the music industry and maybe getting themselves a record deal.
"Have you done any talent scouting, friend?" asked the squid, though he didn't sound hopeful.
"Nope," replied Ford, bubbles streaming from his Plexiglas helmet, face shining orange in the pleasant glow of rock phosphorescence. "Though I once owned a pair of blue suede shoes, which should count for something. I still own one; the other is closer to mauve, due to it being a copy."
The squid nipped at passing plankton as he spoke, which made conversation a little disjointed.
"I don't know if..."
"I hadn't finished."
"It's just that you stopped speaking."
"There was a glint. I thought it was lunch."
"You eat glints?"
"No. Not actual glints."
"Good, because glints are baby gloonts, and they're poisonous."
"I know. I was merely saying that..."
"Precisely. You're sure you're not a talent scout then, or an agent?"
"Oh, for Zark's sake," swore the squid, a little unprofessionally. "Two years I've worked here. Talent scouts and agents coming out of your suckers...they promised. Not one. Not bloody one. I was studying advanced kazoo, you know."
Ford couldn't resist a lead-in like that. "Advanced kazoo? How advanced can kazoo studies be?"
The squid was wounded. "Pretty advanced when you can play a thousand of them at the same time. I was in a quartet. Can you imagine?"
Ford gave it a go. He closed his eyes, enjoyed the whup-pop of the suckers on his back, and imagined four thousand kazoos playing in perfect subaquatic harmony.
Sometime later the squid enveloped Ford in half a dozen tentacles and gently flipped him over. Ford opened one eye to read the squid's badge.
I am Barzoo, read the tag. Use me as you will.
Excerpted from AND ANOTHER THING . . . by EOIN COLFER. Copyright (c) 2009 EOIN COLFER. All rights reserved. Published by HYPERION.
Most Helpful Customer Reviews
Colfer is really adept at channeling Adams' voice and style (which must be exhausting). He is-thankfully-a tad lighter in overall mood than Adams' dark, brooding 5th novel. This book is brilliant-head and shoulders above most everything else out there-but there was only one Douglas Adams. Colfer himself has said as much. Adams was a scientist disguised as a writer Colfer is definitely a very, very gifted and brilliant writer-but not scientist material. I can't think of anyone else who could have captured Adams' essence better. Even the tempo is astonishingly Douglas-ish. His vicious satire is absolutely spot-on, though with something one might say resembles a bit more of a silver lining. In the end a very worthy book that blends together into the previous storyline astonishingly well.
I REALLY wanted to like this book, as I had enjoyed the previous ones (the first 3 were the best) and liked the original radio series when it was broadcast by NPR in the early 1980's, and the extended radio series of a few years ago. It never took off for me. I never laughed out loud while reading it, and found it a bit of a chore to finish. I've had no previous experience with Eoin Colfer, so I had no bias at the start, and I did not read other reviews before purchasing.
This is the sixth book in the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy "trilogy." Eoin Colfer does a tolerable job of maintaining the tone of the original Douglas Adams HHGTTG (though he uses more profanity than Adams). The storyline is pretty good, giving some sarcastic/perceptive social commentary like the rest of the books. In my opinion, Colfer's promotion of Wowbagger the Infinitely Prolonged and Thor to major characters makes them far less amusing than they were in the original series. Overall, I'd say this was a decent effort, but you aren't missing too much if you skip it.
This book tries very hard to live up to the original Hitchhiker's books, but it is painfully obvious that Douglas Adams didn't write this one. The characters are the same, but it lacks the wit and sparkle that Adams brought to his galaxy.
I do appreciate the effort at continuing a dead author's series, but it seemed a bit too afraid to do something new. AAT promotes some small jokes to central plot points, which lost the charm, and then it ends at a cliffhanger that attempts to disguise itself as a series finale. Not terrible, but just doesn't hold up in comparison to the first five books and movie. Ddon't read unless you'rejust too curious about this... Thing.
Funny, neat, imaginative. Must buy.
Here is the sixth, and latest, installment in the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy "trilogy," created by Douglas Adams. It was also published with the approval of Adams' widow. Arthur Dent has made his way back to Earth, but it isn't "his" Earth. The Vogons, with the extremely bad poetry, are working on destroying all possible versions of Earth, so Arthur must take off, again. Ford Prefect, writer for the Guide, and Zaphod Beeblebrox, former president of the Galaxy, are still around. Tricia McMillan is a former TV reporter who ran away with Zaphod, just before the Earth was destroyed. She changed her name to Trillian, and used some of Arthur's DNA to have Random, a daughter. Random is very smart, and has taken teenage surliness to new levels. A small remnant of humanity has made its way to a planet called Nano, run by an Irish property developer named Hunter Hillman. He feels that the humans need a god to worship. The Norse God Thor is one of the applicants. A being named Wowbagger travels around the galaxy handing out insults on various planets. What follows is a titanic battle involving Wowbagger, Thor and a cheese-based deity. For die-hard fans of the series, concerned that no one could do it like Adams, relax. Colfer is a veteran author who knows what he is doing, and it shows here. For those new to the series, read one or two of the early books first, and then read this. It's really worth reading.
I enjoyed this book because it is the continuing story that Douglas Adams might have written if he'd lived long enough to continue the story. Possibly the book he did write in another universe where the Vogons are about to blow up yet another Earth. Eoin Colfer channeled Douglas Adams using a voice and characters that fit perfectly into the world that fans of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy recognize and love. Just as Doulas Adams would, Colfer has created a collection of new characters to provide disastrous repercussions to anything the least bit positive in Arthur's life. Really, we know, Arthur wants a nice cup of tea, a kind and loving family, and to never have to leave earth or deal with another multi-appendaged, off-colored, non-Earth based being again. After all that has happened, Arthur would prefer to be bored, or possibly back on his beach making sandwiches. This is the next installment of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy and I hope that there are more adventures on more worlds with more random members of the vast pantheon of myths and legends of both Earth and the other planets in our little galaxy. I'm sure Arthur would disagree. What happens when the Vogons figure out that Earth exists in alternate universes after Arther, Trillian, and their traveling companions have found a good pub on one of them? How does the Norse god Thor regain some of his past glory competing with cheese? Can a marriage work between a galactic president and a necklace hamster? Two out of three of these questions are answered in Eoin Colfer's And Another Thing. which is filled with all of the random tidbits of information one might expect from book 6 of 3 of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. I loved it!
I probably rated this book a little higher than I would otherwise have just by dint of the fact that it was not written by Douglas Adams. And yet, had I hot seen the cover, had I not known that Adams was dead, I would never have know it wasn't him. In that alone, this book was astounding. There are some style differences if you're looking for them, but it is otherwise as though Eoin Colfer was channeling the spirit of Adams. Colfer manages to his the cadence, the humor and the out there nature of Adams, and I truly believe that no one could have done the great Douglas Adams more credit. And since the story fits, the characters fit and the humor and writing is spot on... In my mind it has already become a permanent member of the series. This book is a must read for any fan of the series.
While this book adds good closure to the series, should it be the end of it, it is nowhere near the quality of Douglas Adams' Hitchhiker books. Adams writes like the king of random, and the rest of the series is almost like hysterical descent into madness. Colfer's writing is more like black and white compared to the vivid colors of the previous books. There are funny parts and it's readable, but in the end, it's imitation.
It cannot be an easy thing to walk in the footsteps of greatness. Eoin Colfer does a commendable of job capturing the fun and insanity of Douglas Adams's Hitchhiker series in this sixth part of the trilogy. It's a bit scattered but there are some truly laugh out loud moments and snippets of dialogue and outrageous detail. The narrator doesn't do as good a job with the voices as Douglas Adams did - Arthur sounds far too capable and Zaphod a bit too smarmy - but, overall, a valiant and mostly successful continuation of a mind-boggling series.
A pretty good attempt at continuing the H2G2 series. Not enough Arthur for my tastes.
This is the 6th part of 3 in the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy series. Douglas Adams always wanted to have a sixth book in the series; and Eoin Colfer (best know for the Artemis Fowl series) was the writer chosen to write this sixth book. Overall it was an okay book. I read the original books so long ago that I had trouble comparing this book to the original. This book was very creative and had a similar tone to it that the previous books had. I found it hard to stay engaged in the story though with all the sidetracking that was going on.Arthur, Ford, Random, and Trillian have spent a while living a life that they weren't really living. They awake to find that the alternate Earth that they are on is going to be destroyed; very familiar to the first book! They are rescued at the last minute by Zaphod who is piloting the Heart of Gold. Of course, things go wrong on The Heart of Gold and they are then about to die again when they are rescued by the immortal Bowerick. Bowerick agrees to help them if they can find a way to kill him. Zaphod readily agrees. From there they are off to the planet of Gods to convince Thor to kill Bowerick. The other part of the story involves the leader of the planet Nano and his search for a God for his planet; as the last colony of humans this story eventually ties in with the one involving Arthur and folks.This was an interesting story. The plot is creative and the Guide Notes as intriguing and somewhat useless as they always were. The tone of the book seemed in keeping with the previous books (although my memory on the previous books is a bit vague). Still despite the non-stop action and constant stream of creative prattle, I had trouble staying engaged in this book.Maybe it is because I haven't been involved with these characters in a long time, but I have trouble staying engaged in the characters or their story. Part of the problem was that it was like the story had ADD, it just couldn't stay going in one direction for very long. I remember the original books kind of being like that, but I think this was worse. With the interruptions of facts from the Guide occurring almost every page (okay, probably every other page) the continuity of the story was constantly interrupted. The story itself also schizophrenically switches between different characters and different locations.Overall this was a somewhat interesting read. It kept with the humorous writing of the original series and had the constant splattering of odd and miscellaneous facts that I remember in previous books. I had trouble getting through the book though because neither the story nor the characters could really keep my interest. I think plot was a little to minced up and unfocused for me. I guess if you are a big fan of the series I would read this book; definitely don't use this book as an entry into the series...you will be totally confused if you do. The original four books still remain the best in my mind. Let's hope that this is the last we see of new books to the HHGTTG series.
Summary: By the end of Mostly Harmless, Arthur Dent had finally made it back to Earth - well, an Earth, if not exactly his Earth. However, his being back on Earth made it that much easier for the Vogons to complete their mission of destroying the Earth and all of its inhabitants, in the name of a hyperspace bypass and bureaucratic completeness. Arthur, Trillian, their daughter Random, and Ford Prefect are saved once again, and set out on yet another journey across time and space, meeting up with some old friends (Zaphod), enemies (Vogon Captain Prostetnic Jeltz), gods (Thor, along with the rest of the Norse pantheon), kneebiting jerks (Wowbagger the Infinitely Prolonged), and tackling new challenges, like overzealous real-estate-developers-slash-cult leaders, the terrors of dark-matter enhanced love, and a giant wheel of cheese (Gouda... or maybe cheddar.) Review: When presented with And Another Thing..., the obvious first question is "Can you really have a Hitchhiker's book without Douglas Adams?" And the answer, I'm happy to report, is "on the 'mostly' end of 'sort of'." That waffly statement is a result of the patchy nature of the book. There were individual scenes that are funny enough to compete with Adams at his best, and then there were bits that just didn't work for me at all. Perhaps unsurprisingly, the parts that worked best were the parts where Colfer took Adams's characters and ran with them in his own direction, and the parts that felt the most labored were the parts where Colfer was trying to match his humor exactly to Adams's style, and to cram in as much continuity as possible. For example, in the asides (here set off as "Guide Notes" and in different font), Colfer seemed determined to bring back every random (not Random) alien species Adams ever mentioned, without realizing that the reason those bits were so funny was because they were thoroughly unexpected and unconnected one-offs.On the other hand, I absolutely laughed out loud more than once, was giggling constantly, and at one point in the middle I caught myself thinking "Man, I like Adams's books so much better when they involve the Norse Gods."... before it dawned on me that And Another Thing... was not actually written by the same man who wrote The Long Dark Tea-Time of the Soul. That's pretty high praise. Colfer undeniably had some huge shoes to fill, and while they don't quite fit him perfectly (...yet; he did seem to get more comfortable inhabiting Adams's universe as the book went on), neither did he trip over them and fall down the stairs. Besides, any book that starts with quotes from Douglas Adams and Tenacious D, and uses the word "sarcastigating" in a sentence gets a thumbs up from me.But, sadly: No Marvin. 4 out of 5 stars.Recommendation: If you go into this book expecting a Douglas Adams book, you're probably going to be disappointed. But if you go in expecting an Eoin Colfer book written in the Hitchhiker's universe, then it's a fun, enjoyable, and mostly harmless read. (Heh.)
I suppose that the first question that should form in one's brain is; Why? Why try to add a sixth part to a trilogy written by a much lamented ex-author? The cynical, and sadly, in this case, probably correct answer is,Money.Eoin Colfer makes as good an attempt at Douglas Adams style of writing as is possible. The problem is that it feels just a little forced. With Adams the non sequiturs tumble naturally onto the page but with Colfer, one suspects planning.The story is reasonably entertaining and, when one starts to accept the new style, this is a reasonable book: it does, however, have the feel of something tagged onto the other five books, for no great reason. The ending is clearly left in such a way that a seventh book could easily be tacked on to this - I hope it isn't. HH2G was a brilliant radio series, a cracking series of books, an OK TV series and an acceptable film but, as I believe that Douglas Adams would have agreed, were he still with us, there comes a time to say enough. The fact that I purchased my copy for £2 from a remaindered book shop will, hopefully, convey this truth to the publishers - and to Eoin, who has sufficient tallent to have turned out numerous books of his own, without steeling another man's idea.Thank you Arthur Dent for many hours of entertainment, now enjoy your retirement.
No, it's not Douglas Adams (although bits of it very likely are), after all, he (sadly) died in 2001. It's Eoin Colfer, doing his best to be true to Douglas Adams' style, bringing our favourite H2G2 characters back to us for another episode, trying to put a little something into the awful vacuum that Adams' death created. Was it worth buying and reading? I certainly think so. I enjoyed it, perhaps not as much as the first ones, but I liked it. For me, it'll be a keeper.Would I buy volume seven of the trilogy if Colfer wrote it? Sure. Although I think I'd like Terry Pratchett to have a go..........I'll definitely be reading all six again.
I am about to commit what many people would see as blasphemy...I liked this installment of Hitchhiker's better than the last two Adam's wrote. I think Colfer did a fantastic job (with one or two exceptions, things that seemed a little out of place, like the Cthulu thing, for example). I hope he writes more. I missed the world of Hitchhikers and I think Adams would be pleased with what Colfer has done. Color me impressed.
I only finally picked this up when I saw it on the new books shelf of our library and thought "what the hell" -- it can't regret reading it if I didn't pay for it. And, that pretty much held true. I even enjoyed probably the first third of the book or so. But really, I had to force myself to finish reading. It wasn't so much that the book was bad, it was just clearly an attempt to copy DNA's style without much effort to create anything new or to build on it. Overall, there were some good parts, and non of it jumped out as truly atrocious, but it certainly won't be getting a second read from me.
Captures the outer style of Douglas Adams but misses his essence. It feels like Nothing happens for most of it. The ending is reasonable and the book---I can't resist---mostly harmless. Oh, unless you're really serious about religion and then you might be very offended.
If I could give this zero stars, I would.I should grant at the outset that the avowed mission of this book is to undo the ending of Mostly Harmless, which I loved unreservedly. This was never going to be an easy sell. Still, I was willing to put that aside and see where he went from there.It's a mess. If Adams had written a sixth book in the trilogy before his untimely passing, I think it's safe to say that he would have disposed of the previous ending in a few pages flat, if he'd bothered to address it at all before getting on with the story. (He did just that in book 5, neatly ridding himself of Book 4's baggage by having Fenchurch suddenly disappear.) Coifer doesn't. Coifer spends the entire book writing his way out of the previous ending, except for a few bits meant to set up the sequels. Furthermore, everybody is out of character. Arthur, Trillian, Random, Zaphod, Ford, Wowbagger the Infinitely Prolonged, and even the bloody Vogons. None of them act remotely like the versions Douglas Adams wrote.I'm actually looking for something nice to say about this, but I'm coming up blank. It's not even as if he has a intricate plot set up in which everything dovetails elegantly at the end, like, say, that of Mostly Harmless itself; instead, it lurches along haphazardly, like, say, the first couple of books in the series, just (a) without the charm and wit that carried those, and (b) with the burden of having a specific problem that needed to be solved, which those largely didn't have. And to compound the issue, did I mention the bit where he's clearly angling for sequels?I suppose the one good thing I can note is that the introduction does characterize this book as a lesser work with poorer production values, which one might like if one liked the original. In keeping with that, if this had to be printed at all -- which I would, of course, contest -- it should have been billed as the first book in a new trilogy of indeterminate length, rather than the "part six of three" proudly proclaimed on the cover. At least set the bad fanfic apart from the real books.
No one could ever approach Adams, but Colfer comes surprisingly close. Many laughs and snickers later, I'm much happier with the current state of the 'trilogy'.
Colfer does a good job of recreating the feel of Adam's original characters and humor, and there is an interview with Cthulu that made me chuckle. But overall I was dissapointed with this follow-up to the Hitchhikers Guide series. The story didn't really go anywhere, and seemed to be just a back drop for the characters to spout humorous one-liners. That said, Colfer didn't do any worse than Adams did towards the end of his own writing.
I'm always disappointed when I try to read a contemporary sequel to a classic favorite, yet I fall for it time and again. Eoin Colfer tried to keep up with the spirit of Douglas Adams amazing work. I thought he did a great job of capturing the characters, and in some aspects he fleshed them out a bit more. However, the story itself was all over the place and the asides were just ridiculous. It felt that he was writing a mockery instead of homage. I listened to it (narrator was quite gifted, btw) and got all the way the the last disc and then couldn't bring myself to finish. I just couldn't stomach it any longer, not even to find out how the story resolved.
Colfer manages to copy Adam's style quite well. Which is probably why the book bored me and I never got around to finishing it...Adam's was a great writer for radio and a poor writer of novels.
Here is the sixth, and latest, installment in the Hitchhiker¿s Guide to the Galaxy "trilogy," created by Douglas Adams. It was also published with the approval of Adams¿ widow. Arthur Dent has made his way back to Earth, but it isn¿t "his" Earth. The Vogons, with the extremely bad poetry, are working on destroying all possible versions of Earth, so Arthur must take off, again. Ford Prefect, writer for the Guide, and Zaphod Beeblebrox, former president of the Galaxy, are still around. Tricia McMillan is a former TV reporter who ran away with Zaphod, just before the Earth was destroyed. She changed her name to Trillian, and used some of Arthur¿s DNA to have Random, a daughter. Random is very smart, and has taken teenage surliness to new levels.A small remnant of humanity has made its way to a planet called Nano, run by an Irish property developer named Hunter Hillman. He feels that the humans need a god to worship. The Norse God Thor is one of the applicants. A being named Wowbagger travels around the galaxy handing out insults on various planets. What follows is a titanic battle involving Wowbagger, Thor and a cheese-based deity.For die-hard fans of the series, concerned that no one could do it like Adams, relax. Colfer is a veteran author who knows what he is doing, and it shows here. For those new to the series, read one or two of the early books first, and then read this. It¿s really worth reading.