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Guida Galattica Per Gli Autostoppisti

Let's suppose it's one of those times when if something good happens to you, the first thing you think is: well, too bad it won't last. Suppose a friend you had almost forgotten calls you and you feel the urge to visit him. In front of a steaming cup, more or less trivial topics and, among other things, the passionate and fiery recommendation of a book. Let's imagine for the sake of argument that, among the many and dark thoughts that plague a person in such a state of mind, the memory of the author and the work does not fade during the journey back. And by some unlikely coincidence, let's suppose that right in front of the car you've parked, there is, along with a fluttering ticket trapped under the windshield wiper, also a bookstore.

Your day will then change.

I was reading, and it felt like being comfortably under the umbrella with an iodine-rich breeze gently slapping my face. Relaxed, laughing heartily, and continuing to think that yes, it was exactly what was needed. Unable to stop laughing and eventually having to go outside the library. The one where silent and sad students pretended to study while actually updating their profiles with headphones that tried, without noteworthy results, to muffle terrible heavy metal.

Halfway through the book, I was certain that the best had been put right at the beginning and indeed, that opening has it all. The shift of focus from micro to macro, the reprise of the same structure to close a circle like a compass, revealing all the insignificance of our anthropocentric living with Monty Python humor at its best. I wish I had written it myself, and I believe that many had the same feeling as they reread once again, increasingly satisfied, from the start.

I was more and more convinced that the best had already passed while I continued to swiftly sail towards the end. I chuckled heartily with Marvin, Ford, Arthur, Zaphod, and Trillian, and I had no idea that in reality, the author, with a very broad and complex twist, was crafting a conclusion nothing short of memorable. Capable of making me bend over with laughter and driving me to go to the nearest betting shop: 42. Damn, 42!

Sharp, brilliant, intentionally chaotic in plotting, it is a product full of sarcastic humor and devoid of swear words: so gratifying that, at the moment, it seems almost devoid of flaws. 9 euros and these 200 pages devoured in an afternoon changed my mood. No, "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy," you won't stay on the shelf stacked with the others. Resign yourself because you'll stay here, no further than arm's reach.