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The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy [Format Kindle]

Douglas Adams , Steve Leialoha
4.5 étoiles sur 5  Voir tous les commentaires (24 commentaires client)

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Join Douglas Adams's hapless hero Arthur Dent as he travels the galaxy with his intrepid pal Ford Prefect, getting into horrible messes and generally wreaking hilarious havoc. Dent is grabbed from Earth moments before a cosmic construction team obliterates the planet to build a freeway. You'll never read funnier science fiction; Adams is a master of intelligent satire, barbed wit, and comedic dialogue. The Hitchhiker's Guide is rich in comedic detail and thought-provoking situations and stands up to multiple reads. Required reading for science fiction fans, this book (and its follow-ups) is also sure to please fans of Monty Python, Terry Pratchett's Discworld series, and British sitcoms.


Chapter One

 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 be- fore? 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?”

“How much?” said Arthur.

“None at all,” said Mr. Prosser, and stormed nervously off wondering why his brain was filled with a thousand hairy horsemen all shouting at him.

By a curious coincidence, “None at all” is exactly how much suspicion the ape-descendant Arthur Dent had that one of his closest friends was not descended from an ape, but was in fact from a small planet somewhere in the vicinity of Betelgeuse and not from Guildford as he usually claimed.


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Commentaires en ligne

4.5 étoiles sur 5
4.5 étoiles sur 5
Commentaires client les plus utiles
11 internautes sur 11 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
5.0 étoiles sur 5 Un guide incontournable pour ne pas paniquer 13 août 2003
Par Un client
Ah, que n'a-t-on pas écrit sur le Guide ... Des années après son écriture, les aventures de Arthur Dent restent un exemple génial de SF humoristique, et les nombreux produits dérivés (bientôt le film ?) prouvent le succès mondial de ce livre de chevet incontournable. Reste la France où encore trop peu de gens encore comprennent la référence quand on lance un "Don't Panic" !
A lire en anglais, bien sûr, car de l'humour britannique, ça se savoure comme cela.
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4 internautes sur 4 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
5.0 étoiles sur 5 You are about to hear a cultural classic 9 mars 2006
A galactic freeway is passing through and you guessed it Earth is in the path.
How many times have you asked a simple question and go the answer as "42." Yep, you are a victim to this book. Many of the clichés and truisms that rival Shakespeare are creeping into our vocabulary. And attitudes - "It has been on file."
If you are the one person that somehow got through life with out reading this series or at least seeing this on TV, then you are in for a treat. Somehow this story is earmarked as sci-fi and I guess it can be in a sense and it has all the elements necessary; it delivers a powerful message to the local Zoning Board.
I will not go though the story, as that is why you are reading the book. You need to sit down for the next sentence.
This book has changed my life.
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4 internautes sur 4 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
5.0 étoiles sur 5 Très amusant ! 11 janvier 2006
Déjà amateur de Pratchett, dont la fantasy est totalement délurée, j'ai lu Douglas Adams en amateur d'humour, de jeux de mots et autres incongruités ! La situation comique est servie par des personnages improbables, des foules de "puns" et de passages parodiques du style de la science fiction.
Je ne peux que conseiller ce texte riche en sourires, en rires, et en bonheur !
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1 internautes sur 1 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
4.0 étoiles sur 5 Une bonne et grosse blague SF 14 juin 2011
"The Hitch Hicker Guide to the Galaxy" est le Guide du Routard Intergalactique, mentionnant tous les lieux de l'univers à visiter, les différences culturelles, les meilleurs bars... C'est aussi une bonne et grosse blague sur le thème de la SF.

Notre héros s'appelle Arthur Dent. Il est terrien et n'a aucune passion dans la vie sinon s'inquiéter sur tout et n'importe quoi. En cela, il est assez représentatif de l'espèce humaine. Jugez plutôt ce qu'en dit le narrateur: "Orbiting this at a distance of roughly ninety-two million miles is an utterly insignificant little blue green planet whose apedescended life forms are so amazingly primitive that they still think digital watches are a pretty neat idea. This planet has - or rather had - a problem, which was this: most of the people on it were unhappy for pretty much of the time. Many solutions were suggested for this problem, but most of these were largely concerned with the movements of small green pieces of paper, which is odd because on the whole it wasn't the small green pieces of paper that were unhappy."

Nous sommes mardi. Il apprend que sa maison va être démolie dans les 5 minutes, pour contruire un raccourci autoroutier. Puis un ami l'amène dans un pub pour boire un verre, et là il apprend que son pote est un extra-terrestre. Et que sa planète va être détruite d'ici 5 minutes.

Arthur Dent n'arrête pas de se faire du mouron, il a tort il fait parti des deux uniques survivants terriens. Embarqué dans un vaisseau spatial avec son ami extra-terrestre il va découvrir l'univers, de multiples races extra-terrestres, un robot toujours de très mauvaise humeur, et il va... découvrir l'origine de la Terre.
Lire la suite ›
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6 internautes sur 7 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
4.0 étoiles sur 5 Not as hilarious as expected. 20 septembre 2005
This is the story of an Englishman called Arthur Dent, and how he's saved from the destruction of the planet Earth by his friend Ford Perfect, who's in fact not from Guildford after all, but from a small planet somewhere in the vicinity of Betelgeuse.
I read this book because I wanted to do so before seeing the film, and because I wanted to know the Answer to the Great Question to Life, the Universe and Everything (well to tell you the truth, I actually knew the Answer, but I wanted to know the Question, too), and because I'm a great fan of English humour (Pratchett, Monty Pythons). But overall, I was a teensy-weensy bit disappointed, probably because I'd heard so much praise about it, I really expected to laugh my buttocks off, and I didn't. OK, I chuckled quite a bit and even guffawed sometimes, but it wasn't as hilarious as I thought it'd be.
You've got to love Marvin the paranoid android though.
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4.0 étoiles sur 5 You are about to read a cultural classic 3 avril 2005
How many times have you asked a simple question and go the answer as "42." Yep, you are a victim to this book. Many of the clichés and truisms that rival Shakespeare are creeping into our vocabulary. And attitudes - "It has been on file."
If you are the one person that somehow got through life with out reading this series or at least seeing this on TV, then you are in for a treat. Somehow this story is earmarked as sci-fi and I guess it can be in a sense and it has all the elements necessary; it delivers a powerful message to the local Zoning Board.
I will not go though the story, as that is why you are reading the book. You need to sit down for the next sentence.
This book has changed my life.
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Commentaires client les plus récents
5.0 étoiles sur 5 totalement hilarant
C'est déjanté et hilarant. L'humour british à son apogée. J'ai lu ce livre souvent Laughing Out Loud. Absolument delicious. Lire la suite
Publié il y a 1 mois par Dorothée
5.0 étoiles sur 5 42
The answer is obvious and why do you guys ask?


That's Why !!!

Buy it, Read it, Enjoy it and you will know the aswer
Publié il y a 4 mois par Jason
2.0 étoiles sur 5 Couldn't finish it...
I gave up reading this book as I kept thinking how badly written it was. Except for a few funny situations here and there, the story is told in a flat manner and I found the... Lire la suite
Publié il y a 9 mois par Cris
5.0 étoiles sur 5 Totalement méconnu en France et pourtant un chef-d'oeuvre
Mais pourquoi ce chef-d'oeuvre cosmico-comique est si méconnu en France ? Répondez "42" à allemand ou un américain, il comprendra. Lire la suite
Publié il y a 10 mois par VOUGNY Christophe
5.0 étoiles sur 5 fun
a great classic. the only point is that it's quite difficult to find the other volumes... note that it's totally impossible in french!
Publié il y a 14 mois par Francois Blanc
2.0 étoiles sur 5 weird...
I found it really difficult to read. I should try again to see if I can follow the author this time...
Publié il y a 16 mois par speedbiz2003
4.0 étoiles sur 5 i liked it
J'ai adoré ce livre, l'humour qui s'en dégage et la multitude de références "geeks" qui sont faites dedans, pour un lecteur français au niveau... Lire la suite
Publié il y a 16 mois par ferreira
5.0 étoiles sur 5 parfait
c'est vraiment parfait! Ces libres sont vraiment supers. en bon état et de bonne qualité. Il n'y a rien à re dire.
Publié il y a 21 mois par adeline Siffert
5.0 étoiles sur 5 Un livre stupéfiant
Une histoire hors du commun avec un humour très sympa ! De nombreuses réflexions sur notre société, poussées à l'extrême au travers un... Lire la suite
Publié le 27 août 2013 par Olof92
5.0 étoiles sur 5 it's all been said already
Re reading a classic is always fun. Despite the tons of references out there, still managed to keep it down to futurama ones only.
Publié le 17 août 2013 par luar669
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