mass market paperback, 227 pages
English language
Published Oct. 7, 1983 by Pocket Books.
Pow! Freeeeoooooo! Pop! Pop Pop! Previous Best Score...Seven million five hundred and ninety-five thousand, two hundred and...
Now join the end-of-the-world party, bring your pink towel and your jogging shoes and find out if potatoes are the answer.
Life, the Universe and Everything
Join Arthur Dent, earthling, "jerk," kneebiter and time-traveler; sexy space cadet Trillian; mad alien Ford Prefect; unflappable Slatifbartfast; two-headed, three-armed, ex-head Honcho of the Universe Zaphod Beeblebrox...you'll learn to fly.
Is it the end? Or just the beginning, again.
--back cover
I do have a strong sense of the series starting to lose its way with this novel. It certainly has its moments, but really doesn't come close to the standard set by the first two books.
I do have a strong sense of the series starting to lose its way with this novel. It certainly has its moments, but really doesn't come close to the standard set by the first two books.
There are four quotes in this book that makes it one of my absolute favorites.
Arthur could almost imagine Paul McCartney sitting with his feet up by the fire one evening, humming it to Linda and wondering what to buy with the proceeds, and thinking, probably, Essex.
It came lilting back to them through the soft night air, and was a sweet romantic ballad that would have netted McCartney Kent and Sussex and enabled him to put in a fair offer for Hampshire
The middle eight bridge, which would have had McCartney firmly consolidated in Winchester and gazing intently over the Test Valley to the rich pickings of the New Forest beyond, had some curious lyrics.
Her laughter seemed to discharge something in the atmosphere. From somewhere at the back of the crowd a single voice started to sing a tune that would have enabled Paul McCartney, had he written …
There are four quotes in this book that makes it one of my absolute favorites.
Arthur could almost imagine Paul McCartney sitting with his feet up by the fire one evening, humming it to Linda and wondering what to buy with the proceeds, and thinking, probably, Essex.
It came lilting back to them through the soft night air, and was a sweet romantic ballad that would have netted McCartney Kent and Sussex and enabled him to put in a fair offer for Hampshire
The middle eight bridge, which would have had McCartney firmly consolidated in Winchester and gazing intently over the Test Valley to the rich pickings of the New Forest beyond, had some curious lyrics.
Her laughter seemed to discharge something in the atmosphere. From somewhere at the back of the crowd a single voice started to sing a tune that would have enabled Paul McCartney, had he written it, to buy the world.
