Why the Satire in Hitchhiker's Guide to The Galaxy is (INCREDIBLY!) Effective
Why the Satire in Hitchhiker's Guide to The Galaxy is (INCREDIBLY!) Effective
What Makes Great Writing #021 - Featuring Douglas Adams' and his book: Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy
Buried in the mountain of mostly useless writing advice hides at least one platitude that holds wisdom that is at once motivational and actionable:
"Write what you know."
Michael Lewis helps ignorant people understand complex topics, so his books do things like compare government agencies to boxes.
Neil Gaiman was a child once (allegedly), so his narrator for The Ocean at the End of the Lane draws heavily from his younger days.
Melissa Errico is a professional singer, so her brilliant NYT piece is a personal story, mixing an average day in with broader themes and pains.
If literature reflects self, we have to ask: what did Douglas Adams know?
Adams is the author of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, a book that inspired 4 more stories in the "trilogy", selling 15 million copies and creating an active cult following. To give you a sense of just how big Hitchhiker got, Adams' work landed him on Letterman in 1985. Few authors make the leap to late night.
Hitchhiker's Guide is satire, which is to say: 200 pages of sarcasm. Bureaucracy, technology, and Earthlings in general all go under the cutting razor of Adams' wit.
Today, we're looking at a passage from Chapter 4 of the first Hitchhiker’s book. This one paragraph helps introduce Zaphoid Beeblebrox (the president of the galaxy and also an idiot), and carries an absolutely jaw-dropping footnote.
Let's dig in.
Read the passage first, and then we'll analyze.
Only six people in the entire galaxy understood the principal on which the galaxy was governed, and they knew that once Zaphoid Beeblebrox had announced his intention to run as president it was more or less a fait accompli: he was ideal presidency fodder.
Footnote: The President in particular is very much a figurehead – he wields no real power whatsoever. He is apparently chosen by the government, but the qualities he is required to display are not those of leadership but of finely judged outrage. For this reason the president is always a controversial choice, always an infuriating but fascinating character. His job is not to wield power, but to draw attention away from it. On those criteria, Zaphoid Beeblebrox is one of the most successful presidents the galaxy has ever had – he has already spent two of his 10 presidential years in prison for fraud.
Starting from the top
Only six people in the entire galaxy understood the principal on which the galaxy was governed…
We're starting with Mark Forsyth's 14th Rule. When you use an exact number, the brain believes it. To say merely that “a few" people know how the galaxy is governed gives us a picture that is less concrete, less believable, and less Illuminati-ish.
There's also an alliteration (repeating consonant sounds) at the end of the first phrase: "galaxy was governed."
…and they knew that once to Zaphoid Beeblebrox had announced his intention to run as president it was more or less a fait accompli: he was ideal presidency fodder.
Look at this juicy tidbit: fait accompli (fet-a-com-plee). Context tells us it probably means "a sure thing." The definition and etymology of the word, though, lend a little more context.
The actual definition is: "a thing that has already happened or been decided before those affected hear about it, leaving them with no option but to accept it."
Sounds exactly like the action an Illuminati-type governing body might do, no?
The etymology is even better:
“Fait accompli" comes from 19th-century French, literally meaning "accomplished fact." This itself seems satirical. How can facts be accomplished? Surely they just are. Adams knows otherwise.
While we’re dissecting words, look at the last one in this phrase: "fodder."
The literal definition is hay or seed intended only for the use of feeding livestock.
The implication? Our six Illuminati choose a President to keep citizens “busy and fed.” He serves no further purpose. Selecting the word "fodder" instead of saying “he was the ideal presidential candidate” increases the distance between the galaxy President and actual power.
Footnote: The President in particular is very much a figurehead – he wields no real power whatsoever. He is apparently chosen by the government, but the qualities he is required to display are not those of leadership but of finely judged outrage. For this reason the president is always a controversial choice, always an infuriating but fascinating character. His job is not to wield power, but to draw attention away from it. On those criteria, Zaphoid Beeblebrox is one of the most successful presidents the galaxy has ever had – he has already spent two of his 10 presidential years in prison for fraud.
Let's take this one slowly.
First, the alliterations:
"president in particular"...
"wields no real power whatsoever"... (also the end of "no" and beginning of "real" create a 4th "w" sound - say it out loud)
"infuriating but fascinating"...
"two of his (ten)"....
"for fraud."
Next, the adverbs, which tend to get used more in satire to thicken irony:
"very much a figurehead" (even though figureheads are useless by themselves)
"apparently chosen" (not really chosen)
"finely judged outrage" (implying that a president's "moral stances" are mere political games).
And finally, the content:
One good test of literature is to ask the question: "does this story feel relevant today?" The answer for this passage is a resounding "YES." Americans can think of at least one president excelling at "finely judged outrage."
50 years ago, though, the sentence still fit the times. Douglas Adams turned 18 as Sir Edward Heath became Britain's Prime Minister. Heath stood in front of crowds and boldly claimed that England’s economic downturn would reverse course with him in charge.
It didn't.
After Heath's failed promises, Douglas Adams The Promising Young Writer became Douglas Adams The Barn Builder Who Lived With His Mother.
At some point between this time and Hitchhiker's release, Adams found himself dead broke and blistering drunk in a ditch, staring up, and thinking that somebody should write a guide for getting around all those stars.
Incidentally, Chapter 1 of Hitchhiker's Guide features our main character suffering through a crippling hangover.
By the final chapter, though, you’ll read few words that feel remarkably peaceful. If authors truly “write what they know,” we can only hope Adams found at least a little peace before grabbing his towel and departing Earth for the last time.
It’d be nice to think he had two familiar words comforting him in those final breaths:
“DON’T PANIC.”
Much love as always,
-Todd B from Tennessee