Blasphemy!
Someone will be writing a sixth Hitchhiker’s book. And it will not be Douglas Adams. Not that I would expect Douglas Adams to write it at this point, but still. …
Eoin Colfer, the author of the Artemis Fowl series for children, will write And Another Thing…
“My first reaction was semi-outrage that anyone should be allowed to tamper with this incredible series,” he said.
“But on reflection I realised that this is a wonderful opportunity to work with characters I have loved since childhood and give them something of my own voice while holding on to the spirit of Douglas Adams.”
Even the new author had some trepidation. I can’t say that this awareness of the sacrilege will save my beloved series from being completely ruined. But at least he knows how many fans he’s going to disappoint or make very angry.
I will get over being angry. I will certainly read this new book, even though I’ve read a couple of Colfer’s books and got tired of them quickly.
But I kind of wish that perhaps he could write a new Dirk Gently book instead. After all, in the fragment of The Salmon of Doubt, it was off to a good start as Dirk Gently. It made me very sad to read that small bit of Douglas Adams’ writing and know that I would never know the end to the story. I would never know how brilliant it would turn out, how funny. The Dirk Gently books are a little less sacred to me. And there’s only two books. Is there really a need to try to further torture poor Arthur Dent in yet another book?
Maybe the reason that nobody is touching The Salmon of Doubt is that nobody had this idea before, to finish off the work. Instead, the book was just published with fragments and essays. Would anyone buy The Salmon of Doubt, version two? I would.
Check more out at Eoin Colfer’s web site.
It’s always disappointing when some other author tries to write a sequel or another book in a beloved series. I don’t think I could read this. It just wouldn’t be the same. Why would a writer want to do this anyway, other than the obvious (money). Why not write something from your own damned imagination. No knock-off novel based on another author’s characters is going to be considered still worthwhile fifty or a hundred years down the road.