There is, at times, a certain satisfaction in not enjoying something that everyone else seems to love, but I’m not happy to find myself going against the tide with this book. The Hitch Hiker’s Guide To The Galaxy never seemed to me like the kind of book that would divide opinions: everyone seemed to agree that it was a great read, and I always felt that something was amiss on my bookish pursuits because I hadn’t read it yet.
I started on it last month, and although it isn’t a long book, it took me longer than expected to finish, mostly because it didn’t really catch my interest. I was more than halfway through it when the story started to grab hold of my attention. I finished it today and I’m still not sure I understood everything as I should.
I’m not a big fan of science fiction – I do love Doctor Who, but that seems to be the exception that proves the rule – but because of this book’s popularity, I thought I’d love it. I didn’t, I grumpily gave it 3 stars on Goodreads. I have the feeling that the story was leading to something that didn’t get developed – I know, I know, there are sequels, but after reading this one I’m not tempted to read the rest. I didn’t hate it, far from it; it was fun at times, but it didn’t make a dent. It’s frustrating, but I have to come to terms with it. We all enjoy different types of stories, and I guess The Hitch Hiker’s Guide To The Galaxy just isn’t for me.
I had this before, though. I tried reading To Kill a Mockingbird twice, and twice I had to put down the book because it was taking me too long to finish it, and I had other books waiting to be read.
The second time I gave the book a chance I was way over a hundred pages when I decided to accept defeat. The story wasn’t developing fast enough, or interestingly enough, and after a hundred and fifty pages I decided I had given it too much of my time already. It was a shame, because I am sure there are good lessons to be learned from that book, but I couldn’t bare another chapter with pretty much nothing happening, and it was time to accept that the story just wasn’t for me.
At least I was able to finish this one.
Anyway, don’t panic. It’s just a book and, in any case, the towel is packed.