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The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy Mass Market Paperback – September 27, 1995
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SOON TO BE A HULU SERIES • Now celebrating the pivotal 42nd anniversary of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy!
Nominated as one of America’s best-loved novels by PBS’s The Great American Read
It’s an ordinary Thursday morning for Arthur Dent . . . until his house gets demolished. The Earth follows shortly after to make way for a new hyperspace express route, and Arthur’s best friend has just announced that he’s an alien.
After that, things get much, much worse.
With just a towel, a small yellow fish, and a book, Arthur has to navigate through a very hostile universe in the company of a gang of unreliable aliens. Luckily the fish is quite good at languages. And the book is The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy . . . which helpfully has the words DON’T PANIC inscribed in large, friendly letters on its cover.
Douglas Adams’s mega-selling pop-culture classic sends logic into orbit, plays havoc with both time and physics, offers up pithy commentary on such things as ballpoint pens, potted plants, and digital watches . . . and, most important, reveals the ultimate answer to life, the universe, and everything.
Now, if you could only figure out the question. . . .
- Print length224 pages
- LanguageEnglish
- PublisherDel Rey
- Publication dateSeptember 27, 1995
- Dimensions4.15 x 0.57 x 6.86 inches
- ISBN-100345391802
- ISBN-13978-0345391803
- Lexile measure930L
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Editorial Reviews
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“Irresistible!”—The Boston Globe
“With droll wit, a keen eye for detail and heavy doses of insight . . . Adams makes us laugh until we cry.”—The San Diego Union-Tribune
“One of the greatest achievements in comedy. A work of staggering genius.”—David Walliams
“Really entertaining and fun.”—Michael Palin
“Fizzing with ideas . . . brilliant.”—Charlie Brooker
“Weird and wonderful.”—Eoin Colfer
“It changed my whole life. It’s literally out of this world.”—Tom Baker
From the Inside Flap
--The Boston Globe
Seconds before the Earth is demolished to make way for a galactic freeway, Arthur Dent is plucked off the planet by his friend Ford Prefect, a researcher for the revised edition of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy who, for the last fifteen years, has been posing as an out-of-work actor.
Together this dynamic pair begin a journey through space aided by quotes from The Hitchhiker's Guide ("A towel is about the most massively useful thing an interstellar hitchhiker can have") and a galaxy-full of fellow travelers: Zaphod Beeblebrox--the two-headed, three-armed ex-hippie and totally out-to-lunch president of the galaxy; Trillian, Zaphod's girlfriend (formally Tricia McMillan), whom Arthur tried to pick up at a cocktail party once upon a time zone; Marvin, a paranoid, brilliant, and chronically depressed robot; Veet Voojagig, a former graduate student who is obsessed with the disappearance of all the ballpoint pens he bought over the years.
Where are these pens? Why are we born? Why do we die? Why do we spend so much time between wearing digital watches? For all the answers stick your thumb to the stars. And don't forget to bring a towel!
"[A] WHIMSICAL ODYSSEY...Characters frolic through the galaxy with infectious joy."
--Publishers Weekly
From the Back Cover
--The Boston Globe
Seconds before the Earth is demolished to make way for a galactic freeway, Arthur Dent is plucked off the planet by his friend Ford Prefect, a researcher for the revised edition of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy who, for the last fifteen years, has been posing as an out-of-work actor.
Together this dynamic pair begin a journey through space aided by quotes from The Hitchhiker's Guide ("A towel is about the most massively useful thing an interstellar hitchhiker can have") and a galaxy-full of fellow travelers: Zaphod Beeblebrox--the two-headed, three-armed ex-hippie and totally out-to-lunch president of the galaxy; Trillian, Zaphod's girlfriend (formally Tricia McMillan), whom Arthur tried to pick up at a cocktail party once upon a time zone; Marvin, a paranoid, brilliant, and chronically depressed robot; Veet Voojagig, a former graduate student who is obsessed with the disappearance of all the ballpoint pens he bought over the years.
Where are these pens? Why are we born? Why do we die? Why do we spend so much time between wearing digital watches? For all the answers stick your thumb to the stars. And don't forget to bring a towel!
"[A] WHIMSICAL ODYSSEY...Characters frolic through the galaxy with infectious joy."
--Publishers Weekly
About the Author
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
The house stood on a slight rise just on the edge of the village. It stood on its own and looked out over a broad spread of West Country farmland. Not a remarkable house by any means—it was about thirty years old, squattish, squarish, made of brick, and had four windows set in the front of a size and proportion which more or less exactly failed to please the eye.
The only person for whom the house was in any way special was Arthur Dent, and that was only because it happened to be the one he lived in. He had lived in it for about three years, ever since he had moved out of London because it made him nervous and irritable. He was about thirty as well, tall, dark-haired and never quite at ease with himself. The thing that used to worry him most was the fact that people always used to ask him what he was looking so worried about. He worked in local radio which he always used to tell his friends was a lot more interesting than they probably thought. It was, too—most of his friends worked in advertising.
On Wednesday night it had rained very heavily, the lane was wet and muddy, but the Thursday morning sun was bright and clear as it shone on Arthur Dent’s house for what was to be the last time.
It hadn’t properly registered yet with Arthur that the council wanted to knock it down and build a bypass instead.
At eight o’clock on Thursday morning Arthur didn’t feel very good. He woke up blearily, got up, wandered blearily round his room, opened a window, saw a bulldozer, found his slippers, and stomped off to the bathroom to wash.
Toothpaste on the brush—so. Scrub.
Shaving mirror—pointing at the ceiling. He adjusted it. For a moment it reflected a second bulldozer through the bathroom window. Properly adjusted, it reflected Arthur Dent’s bristles. He shaved them off, washed, dried and stomped off to the kitchen to find something pleasant to put in his mouth.
Kettle, plug, fridge, milk, coffee. Yawn.
The word bulldozer wandered through his mind for a moment in search of something to connect with.
The bulldozer outside the kitchen window was quite a big one.
He stared at it.
'Yellow,' he thought, and stomped off back to his bedroom to get dressed.
Passing the bathroom he stopped to drink a large glass of water, and another. He began to suspect that he was hung over. Why was he hung over? Had he been drinking the night before? He supposed that he must have been. He caught a glint in the shaving mirror. “Yellow,” he thought, and stomped on to the bedroom.
He stood and thought. The pub, he thought. Oh dear, the pub. He vaguely remembered being angry, angry about something that seemed important. He’d been telling people about it, telling people about it at great length, he rather suspected: his clearest visual recollection was of glazed looks on other people’s faces. Something about a new bypass he’d just found out about. It had been in the pipeline for months only no one seemed to have known about it. Ridiculous. He took a swig of water. It would sort itself out, he’ d decided, no one wanted a bypass, the council didn’t have a leg to stand on. It would sort itself out.
God, what a terrible hangover it had earned him though. He looked at himself in the wardrobe mirror. He stuck out his tongue. 'Yellow,' he thought. The word yellow wandered through his mind in search of something to connect with.
Fifteen seconds later he was out of the house and lying in front of a big yellow bulldozer that was advancing up his garden path.
Mr. L. Prosser was, as they say, only human. In other words he was a carbon-based bipedal life form descended from an ape. More specifically he was forty, fat and shabby and worked for the local council. Curiously enough, though he didn’t know it, he was also a direct male-line descendant of Genghis Khan, though intervening generations and racial mixing had so juggled his genes that he had no discernible Mongoloid characteristics, and the only vestiges left in Mr. L. Prosser of his mighty ancestry were a pronounced stoutness about the tum and a predilection for little fur hats.
He was by no means a great warrior; in fact he was a nervous, worried man. Today he was particularly nervous and worried because something had gone seriously wrong with his job, which was to see that Arthur Dent’s house got cleared out of the way before the day was out.
“Come off it, Mr. Dent,” he said, “you can’t win, you know. You can’t lie in front of the bulldozer indefinitely.” He tried to make his eyes blaze fiercely but they just wouldn’t do it.
Arthur lay in the mud and squelched at him.
“I’m game,” he said, “we’ll see who rusts first.”
“I’m afraid you’re going to have to accept it,” said Mr. Prosser, gripping his fur hat and rolling it round the top of his head; “this bypass has got to be built and it’s going to be built!”
“First I’ve heard of it,” said Arthur, “why’s it got to be built?”
Mr. Prosser shook his finger at him for a bit, then stopped and put it away again.
“What do you mean, why’s it got to be built?” he said. “It’s a bypass. You’ve got to build bypasses.”
Bypasses are devices that allow some people to dash from point A to point B very fast while other people dash from point B to point A very fast. People living at point C, being a point directly in between, are often given to wonder what’s so great about point A that so many people from point B are so keen to get there, and what’s so great about point B that so many people from point A are so keen to get there. They often wish that people would just once and for all work out where the hell they wanted to be.
Mr. Prosser wanted to be at point D. Point D wasn’t anywhere in particular, it was just any convenient point a very long way from points A, B and C. He would have a nice little cottage at point D, with axes over the door, and spend a pleasant amount of time at point E, which would be the nearest pub to point D. His wife of course wanted climbing roses, but he wanted axes. He didn’t know why—he just liked axes. He flushed hotly under the derisive grins of the bulldozer drivers.
He shifted his weight from foot to foot, but it was equally uncomfortable on each. Obviously somebody had been appallingly incompetent and he hoped to God it wasn’t him.
Mr. Prosser said, “You were quite entitled to make any suggestions or protests at the appropriate time, you know.”
“Appropriate time?” hooted Arthur. “Appropriate time? The first I knew about it was when a workman arrived at my home yesterday. I asked him if he’d come to clean the windows and he said no, he’d come to demolish the house. He didn’t tell me straight away of course. Oh no. First he wiped a couple of windows and charged me a fiver. Then he told me.”
“But Mr. Dent, the plans have been available in the local planning office for the last nine months.”
“Oh yes, well, as soon as I heard I went straight round to see them, yesterday afternoon. You hadn’t exactly gone out of your way to call attention to them, had you? I mean, like actually telling anybody or anything.”
“But the plans were on display . . .”
“On display? I eventually had to go down to the cellar to find them.”
“That’s the display department.”
“With a flashlight.”
“Ah, well, the lights had probably gone.”
“So had the stairs.”
“But look, you found the notice, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” said Arthur, “yes I did. It was on display in the bottom of a locked filing cabinet stuck in a disused lavatory with a sign on the door saying ‘Beware of the Leopard.’”
A cloud passed overhead. It cast a shadow over Arthur Dent as he lay propped up on his elbow in the cold mud. It cast a shadow over Arthur Dent’s house. Mr. Prosser frowned at it.
“It’s not as if it’ s a particularly nice house,” he said.
“I’m sorry, but I happen to like it.”
“You’ ll like the bypass.”
“Oh, shut up,” said Arthur Dent. “Shut up and go away, and take your bloody bypass with you. You haven’t got a leg to stand on and you know it.”
Mr. Prosser’s mouth opened and closed a couple of times while his mind was for a moment filled with inexplicable but terribly attractive visions of Arthur Dent’ s house being consumed with fire and Arthur himself running screaming from the blazing ruin with at least three hefty spears protruding from his back. Mr. Prosser was often bothered with visions like these and they made him feel very nervous. He stuttered for a moment and then pulled himself together.
“Mr. Dent,” he said.
“Hello? Yes?” said Arthur.
“Some factual information for you. Have you any idea how much damage that bulldozer would suffer if I just let it roll straight over you?”
Product details
- Publisher : Del Rey; 1st edition (September 27, 1995)
- Language : English
- Mass Market Paperback : 224 pages
- ISBN-10 : 0345391802
- ISBN-13 : 978-0345391803
- Lexile measure : 930L
- Item Weight : 4.2 ounces
- Dimensions : 4.15 x 0.57 x 6.86 inches
- Best Sellers Rank: #22,334 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)
- #37 in Humorous Science Fiction (Books)
- #433 in Humorous Fiction
- #903 in Science Fiction Adventures
- Customer Reviews:
About the author

Douglas Adams (1952-2001) was the much-loved author of the Hitchhiker's Guides, all of which have sold more than 15 million copies worldwide.
Photo by michael hughes from berlin, germany (douglas adams Uploaded by Diaa_abdelmoneim) [CC BY-SA 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons.
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But, alas, the book is more complicated than that. It is more like, what if you know for certain that identifiable flying objects piloted by alien beings are in close proximity, and you have the coded electronic transporter boarding pass device, granting you unlimited access to go anywhere in the universe, right there in your hot little hand.
You find that this quite interesting group of individuals demonstrates great camaraderie and superlative rapport in their timely interactions. They provide keen insight, regarding their interpretations of recent events and take on a variety of pertinent subjects. Such as: "what should we do next in order to survive imminent disaster?"
Basically, they learn to get along exceedingly well together as they travel through the galaxy in a space ship they've somehow managed to commandeer and fly out to distant points as yet unknown. The space ship, incidentally, as it turns out, incorporates the latest and greatest technology ever seen anywhere.
Again, the book is cleverly written, of a deeply philosophical nature, and incredibly fun to read. I'd recommend it to anyone. "The Restaurant at the End of the Universe" is the next title in the book series.
R. Royce saw the note attached to the refrigerator with a small magnetic ornament in the shape of a wild-flower. It read, "We decided to let you sleep in. Be back in a jiffy with your truck of chinchillas."
"Good morning, Royce," said Cornelius Korn. "Are you ready to travel?"
"Where is everyone?" asked Royce.
"They went to gas up the vehicles for the trip to Minnesota. As you know we need to deliver four truck-loads of the cute, cuddly critters to the new chinchilla ranch up near the Canadian border," explained Korn.
"I thought we were still in the early planning stages for that assignment," said Royce. "How'd you get the ball rolling so fast?"
"In case you weren't aware, the democratic process can work miracles in times of great need. The majority voted we go now," said Korn. "Plus, we have just received a sizable cash advance on our proceeds, the amount we get upon final delivery."
"Apparently, you didn't need my vote," said Royce. "Doesn't matter. I'm all for the plan."
"The Montana rancher sold us all of his chinchillas, but he's holding on to the minks and sables," said Korn.
"Makes perfect sense to me," said Royce. You can make very expensive, complete fur coats out of mink or sable. They manufacture the chinchilla fur hides into fashionable leather coat collars, hats, gloves, and accessories. It involves different manufacturing processes entirely."
"Some people keep them as pets, as well," added Korn. "They're docile, playful, and curious. Intelligent creatures."
"You say that we're delivering paired couples of chinchillas to the rancher in Minnesota?" asked Royce. "And we get a share of the profits for the first litters?"
"That's right," said Korn. "$20 bonus, for each baby chinchilla born upon or after arrival at the destination. $80 each, for the red-haired, striped, or spotted blondes. That's because they're rarer breeds and much in demand."
"I can see how this venture might prove profitable," said Royce. "What do the girls have to say about our travel prospects?
"Mostly, they want to experience fine dining along the way, stay in scenic hotels, and go to the International Mall in Minneapolis," said Korn. "Who can argue with their logic?"
"Not me," said Royce. "Here they are now. Let's get this show on the road. Shall we?"
"We're all fueled up and ready to roll," said Raquel Remington. "I've been thinking about those chinchillas. Maybe we should do some additional research."
"I agree," said Alexis Sue Shell. "There may be a big demand for chinchilla oil in the field of medicine."
"Or, for the wild, musky chinchilla scent, in the perfumery industry," continued Raquel.
"We'll definitely have to look into the matter and make discrete inquiries accordingly," said Korn, nonchalantly. Which probably meant that he had other sticks in the fire, as well. For all they knew, he might already have sold some of the cute, furry creatures to NASA for their Mission to Mars program. His next detour: The Biology Unit, Life Support Section, Advanced Obscure Scientific Research Corporation, a subsidiary of NASA. It was inevitable, and so conveniently nearby the chinchilla ranch.
The story, at first, seems normal as a narrator tells us about a man getting his house knocked down. The reality slowly fades, as random names and phrases that the narrator uses are seeming very un-Earth like. It is present day, or around this time, and first set in London, England. Soon after, the setting turns into a fantasy, yet not impossible, world of aliens around our galaxy that we never knew. It jumps into this turn fairly quickly, and persuades you to keep reading with the constant action and suspense. Then, there are the characters. “The thing that used to worry him most was the fact that people always used to ask him what he was looking so worried about.” Our main character; Arthur Dent. Arthur is the one real character in the story that can be related to or understood by us, the human people of Earth. A stubborn, normal, fed up human that is always confused or questioning things in all the madness of the plot. Ford Prefect, Zaphod Beeblebrox, Marvin-all know what is going on in this crazy world since they are a part of it. A women named Trilian brings a mother character to the book, being human aswell but always caring and responsible during the adventure. These main characters are the protagonists, and the entirety of their journey is the antagonist. They all seem to be in search for something, but each character doesn’t really understand what it is or how to find it.
In the beginning, all Arthur cares about is his house. Shortly after, his house and everything around it aren’t his biggest problem. His home planet of Earth went through a dramatic change, from full of life to non-existent. His best pal Ford, who was secretly not from Earth himself, decided to rescue Arthur from his death. This spirals to extreme coincidences and near death-experiences as they hitchhike their way through space. They later get picked up by the president of the Universe, Zaphod Beeblebrox, and his two helpers Trillian and Marvin. They are now searching for the legendary planet of Magrathea, which was told to have been creating planets as luxury items. The ship searches, and discovers, the hidden planet, but finding the true treasures are harder than they appear. The randomness of their adventures and the narrations throughout the novel show a genius way of connecting these facts and instances into one story that captivates the reader. The erratic events somehow create a normality. It brings the reader into the story, teaches and explains all the events and ideas, and gives flashbacks so all the facts come together into one plot.
While reading this, every chapter has something that would make me laugh or force me to press forward in the book. Adams achieved his goal, finally bringing us a children’s book for adults. When explaining this to someone, it sounds like you are reading a kindergarten’s story. But when actually reading it, the elements of description and hidden pieces of the story somehow make the overall book feel more mature and more deep. I loved the sudden and random way he would explain, almost over explain, all the details in the story. Though you could say he was droning on and on, the way he does this helps the story seem more clear through the insanity. I enjoyed the comical way that Adams used to describe who people are without even the character itself knowing about it. Mr. Prosser, the man trying to knock down Arthur’s house, was shown to us as this; “Curiously enough, though he didn’t know it, he was also a direct male-line descendant of Genghis Khan..” The story later tells that the stubby male called Mr. Prosser gets very vivid, but violent, war scenes in his memory every now and then. Adams later uses this to explain Mr. Prosser’s thoughts and feeling about what he does or how he lives. Interesting ways that Adams shows his characters are far from normal, but far from normal is perfect for me and I appreciated it immensely. My favorite thing about the characters was having Arthur as the main focus. Arthur is the rock, the glue, the sanity of the entire story. I related to him myself, and he keeps you in focus during the book. Though I was thrilled with these parts of the book, sadly not every story is perfect. Compared to the roaring events of the rest of the story, the ending just didn’t meet my expectations. There just wasn’t enough action in it like the rest of the story, but I could see how a tranquil ending would wrap up all the crazy events in the book.
Adams has a very unique style, and it would seem to work with young adults who find themselves not usually enjoying reading books. It has that childish setting and overall feel, but with mature ways of writing. A younger child may enjoy the fun setting but have trouble sticking to the plot, so a more young adult would suit it better. The Hitchhiker Guide to the Galaxy is a comical, interesting book that would be great for anyone who likes science fiction or fantasies.
So I never bothered to read Douglas Adams’ novel. I assumed I knew all that it had offer: a pleasing narration, a great premise, and oddball characters that eventually consume the best of what the story has to offer. Of course, I was wrong.
Where the moving picture versions allow the director to explore one vision of this tale, my mind can create many alternate ideas. My imagination soared into space this time as I read the story, following along with Arthur and Ford Prefect. The aliens as described in the book don’t overwhelm the story, but instead complement the adventure. The novel still has that fantastic setup, plus the wit of narration, but the book also maintains a focus on the plight of the humans that I didn’t encounter in the film adaptations.
This story is one of the most pleasant that I have ever read, although it builds towards surprising profundity as we experience the frailty of human existence. Adams tosses deep and complex ideas into the mix much more often as we near the end of this adventure and, as many other reviewers have pointed out, it all ends too soon.
Reviewed in the United States 🇺🇸 on October 12, 2022
So I never bothered to read Douglas Adams’ novel. I assumed I knew all that it had offer: a pleasing narration, a great premise, and oddball characters that eventually consume the best of what the story has to offer. Of course, I was wrong.
Where the moving picture versions allow the director to explore one vision of this tale, my mind can create many alternate ideas. My imagination soared into space this time as I read the story, following along with Arthur and Ford Prefect. The aliens as described in the book don’t overwhelm the story, but instead complement the adventure. The novel still has that fantastic setup, plus the wit of narration, but the book also maintains a focus on the plight of the humans that I didn’t encounter in the film adaptations.
This story is one of the most pleasant that I have ever read, although it builds towards surprising profundity as we experience the frailty of human existence. Adams tosses deep and complex ideas into the mix much more often as we near the end of this adventure and, as many other reviewers have pointed out, it all ends too soon.
Top reviews from other countries
Curiously I know all the names of the characters and their peccadilloes and could chat with friends about them knowingly sharing the in-jokes of a dedicated reader.
I tried again in my 30s thinking that I’d better fill in the gaps, but again failed.
I’ve just finished it after the third try. Lucky? Not sure. I can still see why I could not make progress in the past as it was just as hard to pick up this time around. I have read four books since the beginning of the year and this was the hardest.
Why didn’t you I get on with this book? It’s not that I don’t embrace silly, or there weren’t chuckle moments but after much deep thought, the answer to the question has to be: ‘I can’t put my finger on it.’
Don’t let that put you off.
I'd heard great things but I couldn't get into it, my mind kept drifting, i looked for the humor but couldn't find it (was it where the British guy wanted a cup of tea on a spaceship?).
It just didn't hold my attention im afraid which is a shame as its such a cult classic.
Most of it sounded, in my head, like extremely well improvised, composed and delivered gibberish and not much more than that.
To be absolutely fair, this might simply not be my type of humor, hence my not finding it truly funny or amusing, although there were about three to five at the most instances throughout the book that did instigate that LOL outburst.
All in all, it is a pretty decent read. Particularly for the ages around 20 or less.
However, specifically with regards to all the hype surrounding this book, I, personally, couldn't possibly justify it.
A splendidly funny and silly book, quite a successful novelisation of the Radio Series.
Note that the extracts from the archives come right at the end of Chapter 35, and are interesting, especially the fax from Douglas to the American script editor, explaining why some things shouldn't be changed. For some reason, they're not listed in the table of contents.


















