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So long, and thanks for all the fish

1984

  • trilogy of four
  • fantasy fiction
  • fiction
  • interplanetary voyages
  • science fiction
  • ford prefect (fictitious character)
  • arthur dent (fictitious character)
  • belletristische darstellung
  • weltall
  • english literature

The story

Preceded by: [Life, the Universe and Everything][1] So Long, and Thanks for All the Fish is the fourth book of the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy "trilogy" written by Douglas Adams. Its title is the message left by the dolphins when they departed Planet Earth just before it was demolished to make way for a hyperspace bypass, as described in The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. Followed by: [Mostly Harmless][3] ---------- Also contained in: - [The Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy: A Trilogy in Four Parts][4] - [The More Than Complete Hitchhiker's Guide][5] - [Ultimate Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy](https://openlibrary.org/works/OL2163706W) [1]: https://openlibrary.org/works/OL2163716W [2]: http://www.douglasadams.com/creations/0671745530.html [3]: https://openlibrary.org/works/OL2163718W [4]: https://openlibrary.org/works/OL2163692W [5]: https://openlibrary.org/works/OL2163713W

What it’s like

Breezy, deadpan British prose that turns cosmic absurdity into something cozy and funny, the voice of a wry narrator who never quite panics even when the universe does. The rhythm is brisk and digressive, with short chapters, sudden asides and jokes that land in quick succession, so it reads easily in short sittings. Its mood is wistful and affectionate rather than tense: a kind of bemused melancholy softened by absurd comedy and a steady undertow of gentle sadness about friendship, home and things lost. The sensory world lives mostly in the mind's eye: glittering alien cities, spaceships with improbable engines, a bowl of petunias in a cold void, and the flat grey Britishness of ordinary life transplanted into space. Violence is present but slapstick and bloodless, with destruction mostly reported at a comic distance; there is no sexual content and little real fear. It suits a rainy Sunday, a long-haul flight, or a comfort reread, and it is for readers who want warmth, odd whimsy and sly wit with a faintly elegiac heart.

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