Earth gets demolished for a bypass in the opening pages and the book never slows down to mourn it.
Read April 1985, in the middle of a long Stephen King stretch, which is probably why it landed as hard as it did. Pure relief.
The jokes are structural rather than decorative. The Babel fish argument, the Infinite Improbability Drive, forty-two. The universe is absurd and indifferent and the correct response is to carry a towel.
