It's always strange to read a classic decades after it has become a classic, especially when it comes to Science Fiction or any other form that is heavily dependent on the time it was written.

I've read this book at least five times before, three times in the brilliant German translation by Benjamin Schwarz, and twice in the English original (one of those times in a weird censored American book club edition), and there was never any doubt for me that it was one of the greatest books ever written.

But that was in the 90s, and I hadn't read it in the thirty years since. Getting back to it now was an interesting experience. I knew everything that would happen, but not the precise order and descriptions of it happening. Many of the book's parts felt a bit bland, and there were very few situations that made me laugh out loud. I soon realised why that was: for one thing, the expectation of finally re-reading one of my favourite books after such a long time had created a level of anticipation that the actual book couldn't possibly match. And on the other hand, many of the tropes presented have become an integral part of our culture over the years.

A large part of the reading experience, therefore, was reassuring myself that this was the origin of all those ideas, that the answer to life, the universe and everything (among many other things) was a masterstroke of an immeasurably creative and intelligent mind, and it is not in any way the book's or its author's fault that so many lesser people have riffed off on it in the meantime.

And yes, it still is that brilliant, it just isn't surprising anymore.