“All through my life I’ve had this strange unaccountable feeling that something was going on in the world, something big, even sinister, and no one would tell me what it was.”
This is a quote from Arthur Dent, an ordinary human like you or me. It captures the strange sense of existential dread I sometimes feel on a random Tuesday morning when I wake up wondering if anything really makes sense.
Arthur is the protagonist of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. But he’s not a hero, he’s just a regular guy. And that’s kind of the point. He’s an ordinary person living an ordinary life until, one day, his world is destroyed.
No seriously, the Earth is destroyed in this story to make way for an intergalactic highway. Luckily, one of Arthur’s acquaintances is secretly an alien from the planet Betelgeuse and manages to hitchhike on a distant spaceship passing earth, bringing Arthur along for the journey and saving his life.
The story that follows dives deep into the quirks of human existence, exploring big questions such as:
- What is the meaning of life?
- How likely is it, exactly, for absolutely bonkers shit to happen?
It’s a story famous for its humour, and I’ll happily admit that it had me quietly exhaling a laugh through my nose more than once. That doesn’t sound like terribly high praise, but as someone who doesn’t laugh at books very often, it’s basically a standing ovation.
I won’t dig too much into the plot, but I want to highlight two key themes that really stood out to me. Consider this your spoiler warning.
Finding meaning in the absurdity of life
When I was a teenager, I was convinced that life had a grand plan. It didn’t matter if I struggled in school or had no clear passions, there was going to be something profoundly special about my life. Divine intervention or some shit.
As an adult I’ve let go of this blind optimism and learned to understand that I’m not the main character of a well-written novel, I’m just a guy. I have the free will to control some stuff but there’s a side to life that feels like a randomly generated mad lib.
There’s a lawlessness to some of the things that happen in this world and I find it difficult to latch onto any real sense of purpose because, deep down, I suspect there isn’t one. Not in a grand, cosmic sense, anyway. I wake up, I go about my day, I try to enjoy as much as I can but It’s hard not to feel like I’m just filling time until the end credits roll.
Adams captures this feeling brilliantly, not with despair, but with humour. The book doesn’t try to force meaning onto the universe. Instead, it laughs at the idea that meaning is something we should expect in the first place. The Earth is casually demolished for an intergalactic highway, humanity’s existence is barely a footnote in the grand scheme of the universe, and the most advanced computer ever built spends 7.5 million years calculating the answer to The Ultimate Question of Life, The Universe, and Everything – only to conclude that it’s “42”.
“Forty-two,” said Deep Thought, with infinite majesty and calm.
For me, the takeaway message is that amidst the untameable absurdity of life, we have the freedom to create our own meaning, and it need not be measured by its grandeur. We should let go of the idea that our significance is dependent on some kind of monumental achievement or undertaking that will etch its way into history. Instead, purpose can be found in the everyday choices we make, the relationships we nurture, the burdens we carry, the support we offer and the way we express ourselves.
The value of a different perspective
I’ve always been fascinated by the profound impact that unexpected connections can have on me.
I remember being in Scotland for my Grampa’s funeral. I was in my late 20s, feeling low about life, and now Gramps had died. My brother and I were sitting down to dinner at a hotel when a distant family friend recognised us and joined our table. I think he worked in healthcare, though I don’t remember the details, or even his name. What I do remember is how kind and genuine he was.
We talked for a while, sharing memories. It was one of those conversations that makes you feel happy and sad at the same time. I hadn’t opened up to anyone about how I’d been feeling, not to my brother, and certainly not to this man I had just met.
At some point, I mentioned my age, I was 27 at the time.
He gave me a look that felt like he was peering straight into my thoughts, then said, “Look after yourself. You’re at a difficult age.”
Startled, I asked him what he meant.
“A lot of young people get tested at your age,” he said. “Pushed to their limits. You have to be kind to yourself and let it pass. Your brother will know all about this.” He smiled and gave my brother a respectful nod.
My brother nervously agreed. I could tell he was uncomfortable, but there was something in his expression that made me feel that he knew exactly what the man meant.
I’ll never forget the impact this fleeting interaction had on me. I felt seen and that there was an unspoken understanding forming between my brother and me. Most importantly, though, I began to acknowledge a new perspective that human experience is transient, and the bad times will pass.
In the book, Arthur Dent’s journey through the universe captures the way unexpected connections can shift our perspectives. One moment, he’s standing in front of a bulldozer, trying to protect the life he knows, and the next, he’s on a spaceship, watching the Earth explode. He has no control, no plan, and no idea what to do next. He’s a deeply bewildered everyman, craving stability, and for things to make just a little bit of sense.
The universe hands him Ford Prefect, a seemingly random acquaintance who happens to be an experienced intergalactic traveller. Unlike Arthur, Ford rarely panics; he navigates chaos with amused detachment. He’s been “there” and he’s done “that”. He is Arthur’s complete opposite, and it’s precisely this contrast that makes his companionship so valuable. Even if Arthur resists, Ford’s presence forces him to see life from a new perspective. It helps him change for the better. He becomes more resilient, more open-minded, and less obsessed with trying to control what he cannot. In the end, Ford doesn’t just help Arthur survive, he helps him live.
What makes the book particularly interesting is that, despite Ford being the so-called expert, he remains deeply curious about Arthur’s human perspective on things. Their contrasting personalities and unequal knowledge create a dynamic where they both learn from each other. Over time, they help each other grow in unexpected ways, shaping into more well-rounded individuals.
Final Thoughts: Laughing Through the Chaos
I’d recommend The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy to just about anyone. It’s an effortlessly enjoyable read, and reflecting on its satisfying blend of humour and insight has been a true pleasure. There are many other meaningful themes woven into the story that I haven’t covered, each as valuable as the ones I’ve highlighted. Even if you’re not drawn to its deeper messages, the book’s wit and creativity will surely captivate your imagination.
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