not falling down

I bought The Salmon of Doubt as soon as I saw it, in hardback and everything. (”Inhardback?” said my mother, disapproving. If she’d seen what’s happened to my paperback copy of Long Dark Teatime, she’d understand.)

This was, as it turns out, a bad decision. First, and most obviously, I’m going to be writing withDouglas Adams mannerisms for a week now. Second, it’s keeping me from finishing the(mind-bogglingly good but brain-stuffingly thick) copy of The Blind Assassin that I’ve had for two months. Third, it’s becomingincreasingly difficult to choose between fulfilling my responsibilities as a chaperone and reading just a few more pages.

Fourth, it makes me want more Douglas Adams books really bad.

The only book of his I haven’t read, actually, is Last Chance To See, because I’ve been saving it as a special treat, and alsoyou can’t find it anywhere. I think I own at least one copy of every other book he wrote, and (now)a great many of his columns and articles too. I want there to be another Hitchhiker’s book so bad it hurts–Adams himselfadmitted that Mostly Harmless was a terrible ending, and wasn’t meant to be an ending atall. I want another DirkGently book even worse, because I like them even better.

(I’m not just saying that because I think it’s required of hip experienced Douglas Adams fans, thatone prefer the less popular work. For one thing, I don’t think there are any hip Douglas Adamsfans. Paul McCartney doesn’t count.)

The closest thing, I guess, is the last section of Salmon. It’s the assembled fragments ofthe book Adams spent most of the Nineties writing. It’s half Hitchhiker’s and half Gently, and notenough of either. Or so it says in the introduction–I have so far resisted the urge to jump aheadand dig right into it. It can’t possibly live up.

Douglas Adams died a year and a few months ago, pointlessly, shockingly. He jogged regularly. Hewasn’t even fifty. He had a heart attack.

I wish sometimes he’d faked the whole thing, just to get away from the fans who would quoteHitchhiker’s at him all the time.* I know it’s not true. He was toooriginal, too sharp, to try and pull something like that. Elvis did it, after all, and they say youcan only really love Elvis or the Beatles. Douglas Adams really loved the Beatles.

don’t, don’t, don’tlet’s start
why did we ever part
kick-start my rock and rolling heart

* I wish the same thing, more rarely, about Graham Chapman and Holy Grail.