The Salmon of Doubt

i have recently finished reading 'Cambridge Illustrated Guide to the History of Warfare', which is a ridiculously gigantic and thick but thoroughly enjoyable and informative book... After toying with abit of re-reading of my old copy of 'Dune Messiah', i've started on a new book, courtesy of Islington library...

'The Salmon of Doubt' is in actual fact not so much a novel as it is a collection of Douglas Adams' writings, some short, some long, which have been found in his Macintosh after he died.. Compiled by his editor and friends, it offers a peek into his fantastic world and way of thinking and writing, with the writings covering many aspects of life dear to Adams' heart. In fact, the writings are so random & unrelated to each other, that if it were to be published today, it will be called a blog.

Anyway, some of you may be aware that i am a huge fan of Adams', him being the author of my all-time Favourite Book of My Life (Non-Christian category) - The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.. The wonder that i am reading this book in Islington, London, where Adams' lived for the bulk of his life, is not lost upon me... Some of you will also be aware of the fact that the style i write/blog is very often extremely dependent on the book i'm reading at that point in time and the only reason why i'm sounding rather serious now is because i've finished reading the numerous introductions and prologues and prefaces written by Adams' many friends... Without any loss of generality, i will be blogging excerpts of good bits of the book, which is a terribly difficult job because it is so hard to do that without putting the whole book online... Today, i shall start with something in the introduction written by Stephen Fry, which hits the nail right on its head in his description of Adams' writings... If you're a fan, or if you've read his books before, i'm sure you will understand.. If not, i hope it encourages you to start... =)

"Douglas has in common with certain rare artists the ability to make the beholder feel that he is addressing them and them alone... When you look at Velazquez, listen to Mozart, read Dickens or laugh at Billy Connolly, ... you are aware that what they do they do for the world and the results are, of course, magnificent. When you look at Blake, listen to Bach, read Douglas Adams or watch Eddie Izzard perform, you feel you are perhaps the only person in the world who really gets them. Just about everyone else admires them, of course, but no one really connects with them in the way you do. I advance this as a theory. Douglas's work is not the high art of Bach or the intense personal cosmos of Blake, it goes without saying, but I believe my view holds nonetheless. It's like falling in love. When an especially peachy Adams turn of phrase or epithet enters the eye and penetrates the brain you want to tap the shoulder of the nearest stranger and share it. The stranger might laugh and seem to enjoy the writing, but you hug yourself to the thought that they didn't quite understand its force and quality the way you do -- just as your friends (thank heavens) don't also fall in love with the person you are going on and on about to them."

And that, is exactly how i feel.