Bästa boken

[Bubbli]

Läste ut den tredje Artemis Fowl boken. Segare än dom andra men ändåså bra. Ska läsa den fjärde. Mest fakta och lite så man fattar mer sammanhang mellan olika personer typ. Sedan så är det intervjuer med Artemis, Root, Holly, Butler (den äldre) och författaren. Ed tror jag han heter. Sedan så kommer film om Artemis Fowl. 2007 ungefär. Dom börjar på den i år. LÄNGTA . Och så kommer det snart en femte bok om Artemis Fowl.

[Stevex]

Bästa boken är "Herr Gris" eller vad den nu heter

[GTApimpfoolife]

Jaha här kan man asså skriva vilken bok man gillar.

Inte så intresserad av böcker men Tintin har jag alltid gillat. Har läst alla Tintin böcker och jag måste säga att alla slår alla.

[Halo]

En av grabbarna!

En gripande bok som inte går att sluta läsa

[Funnylin]

"Stewies guide to world domination"

Inte läst den, men den måste ju nästan vara bra.

Edit: http://www.adlibris.se/shop/product.asp?is...XET79WHB33C7481

Redigerad 29 juni, 2005 av Funnylin

[_-MadeMaN-_]

"Stewies guide to world domination"

Inte läst den, men den måste ju nästan vara bra.

Edit: http://www.adlibris.se/shop/product.asp?is...XET79WHB33C7481

Ska beställa imorgon

[Pico]

Jaha här kan man asså skriva vilken bok man gillar.

Inte så intresserad av böcker men Tintin har jag alltid gillat. Har läst alla Tintin böcker och jag måste säga att alla slår alla.

Ah, de klassiska Tintin-böckerna. Minnen. =)

[Vice.]

Är det nån av er som har läst "liftarens guide till galaxen"? Den ska tydligen(?) vara jätte stor och tom. komma på film nu snart! Har knappt hört talsa om den men börjar fundera på om man kanske skulle läsa den!?

Annars är en av favorit böckerna "förbannelsen" S. King!

Redigerad 30 juni, 2005 av vice24

[CurunirOfValinor]

Är det nån av er som har läst "liftarens guide till galaxen"? Den ska tydligen(?) vara jätte stor och tom. komma på film nu snart! Har knappt hört talsa om den men börjar fundera på om man kanske skulle läsa den!?

Håller på med den, dem två första böckerna är riktigt bra men Livet, Universum och allting (den jag är på nu) är tråkig som fan (han svamlar bara om "Informativa Illusioner" hit och dit) och av vad jag har hört så är Ajöss och Tack för Fisken lika tråkig.

Redigerad 30 juni, 2005 av CurunirOfValinor

[Vice.]

Håller på med den, dem två första böckerna är riktigt bra men Livet, Universum och allting (den jag är på nu) är tråkig som fan (han svamlar bara om "Informativa Illusioner" hit och dit) och av vad jag har hört så är Ajöss och Tack för Fisken lika tråkig.

Heter en av böckerna verkligen, "Ajöss och Tack för Fisken"???

Vad handlar dem om egentligen! Jag har f*n aldrig hört tals om dem och nu ska de tom. upp på duken!

[Egget91]

Jag gillar att läsa sune böcker

[Funnylin]

Är det nån av er som har läst "liftarens guide till galaxen"? Den ska tydligen(?) vara jätte stor och tom. komma på film nu snart! Har knappt hört talsa om den men börjar fundera på om man kanske skulle läsa den!?!

Läste den på engelska för ett tag sen, ganska bra. Filmen verkar dock inte vara någon höjdare.

[xenon]

Hela Harry Potter serien:D

[CurunirOfValinor]

Heter en av böckerna verkligen, "Ajöss och Tack för Fisken"???

Vad handlar dem om egentligen! Jag har f*n aldrig hört tals om dem och nu ska de tom. upp på duken!

Jag vet inte riktigt vad den handlar om men det stod något tidigare i boken om att alla delfiner på jorden gjorde en massa avancerade konster precis innan vogonerna sprängde jorden fast att dem där konsterna egentligen betydde "Ajöss och tack för fisken.". Sen sprängdes jorden.

Redigerad 30 juni, 2005 av CurunirOfValinor

[oldsmobile]

Harry potter böckerna är grymt bra de är de bästa böckerna som jag har läst tror ja.har läst ut alla 2 gånger

[The Dude]

Heter en av böckerna verkligen, "Ajöss och Tack för Fisken"???

Vad handlar dem om egentligen! Jag har f*n aldrig hört tals om dem och nu ska de tom. upp på duken!

Det är en extremt sjuk och rolig si fi-historia. Här jag ger er kapiter 7:

Chapter 7

Vogon poetry is of course the third worst in the Universe.

The second worst is that of the Azagoths of Kria. During a

recitation by their Poet Master Grunthos the Flatulent of his

poem "Ode To A Small Lump of Green Putty I Found In My Armpit One

Midsummer Morning" four of his audience died of internal

haemorrhaging, and the President of the Mid-Galactic Arts

Nobbling Council survived by gnawing one of his own legs off.

Grunthos is reported to have been "disappointed" by the poem's

reception, and was about to embark on a reading of his twelve-

book epic entitled My Favourite Bathtime Gurgles when his own

major intestine, in a desperate attempt to save life and

civilization, leapt straight up through his neck and throttled

his brain.

The very worst poetry of all perished along with its creator

Paula Nancy Millstone Jennings of Greenbridge, Essex, England in

the destruction of the planet Earth.

Prostetnic Vogon Jeltz smiled very slowly. This was done not so

much for effect as because he was trying to remember the sequence

of muscle movements. He had had a terribly therapeutic yell at

his prisoners and was now feeling quite relaxed and ready for a

little callousness.

The prisoners sat in Poetry Appreciation Chairs --strapped in.

Vogons suffered no illusions as to the regard their works were

generally held in. Their early attempts at composition had been

part of bludgeoning insistence that they be accepted as a

properly evolved and cultured race, but now the only thing that

kept them going was sheer bloodymindedness.

The sweat stood out cold on Ford Prefect's brow, and slid round

the electrodes strapped to his temples. These were attached to a

battery of electronic equipment - imagery intensifiers, rhythmic

modulators, alliterative residulators and simile dumpers - all

designed to heighten the experience of the poem and make sure

that not a single nuance of the poet's thought was lost.

Arthur Dent sat and quivered. He had no idea what he was in for,

but he knew that he hadn't liked anything that had happened so

far and didn't think things were likely to change.

The Vogon began to read - a fetid little passage of his own

devising.

"Oh frettled gruntbuggly ..." he began. Spasms wracked Ford's

body - this was worse than ever he'd been prepared for.

"... thy micturations are to me | As plurdled gabbleblotchits on

a lurgid bee."

"Aaaaaaarggggghhhhhh!" went Ford Prefect, wrenching his head back

as lumps of pain thumped through it. He could dimly see beside

him Arthur lolling and rolling in his seat. He clenched his

teeth.

"Groop I implore thee," continued the merciless Vogon, "my

foonting turlingdromes."

His voice was rising to a horrible pitch of impassioned

stridency. "And hooptiously drangle me with crinkly

bindlewurdles,| Or I will rend thee in the gobberwarts with my

blurglecruncheon, see if I don't!"

"Nnnnnnnnnnyyyyyyyuuuuuuurrrrrrrggggggghhhhh!" cried Ford Prefect

and threw one final spasm as the electronic enhancement of the

last line caught him full blast across the temples. He went limp.

Arthur lolled.

"Now Earthlings ..." whirred the Vogon (he didn't know that Ford

Prefect was in fact from a small planet in the vicinity of

Betelgeuse, and wouldn't have cared if he had) "I present you

with a simple choice! Either die in the vacuum of space, or ..."

he paused for melodramatic effect, "tell me how good you thought

my poem was!"

He threw himself backwards into a huge leathery bat-shaped seat

and watched them. He did the smile again.

Ford was rasping for breath. He rolled his dusty tongue round his

parched mouth and moaned.

Arthur said brightly: "Actually I quite liked it."

Ford turned and gaped. Here was an approach that had quite simply

not occurred to him.

The Vogon raised a surprised eyebrow that effectively obscured

his nose and was therefore no bad thing.

"Oh good ..." he whirred, in considerable astonishment.

"Oh yes," said Arthur, "I thought that some of the metaphysical

imagery was really particularly effective."

Ford continued to stare at him, slowly organizing his thoughts

around this totally new concept. Were they really going to be

able to bareface their way out of this?

"Yes, do continue ..." invited the Vogon.

"Oh ... and er ... interesting rhythmic devices too," continued

Arthur, "which seemed to counterpoint the ... er ... er ..." He

floundered.

Ford leaped to his rescue, hazarding "counterpoint the surrealism

of the underlying metaphor of the ... er ..." He floundered too,

but Arthur was ready again.

"... humanity of the ..."

"Vogonity," Ford hissed at him.

"Ah yes, Vogonity (sorry) of the poet's compassionate soul,"

Arthur felt he was on a home stretch now, "which contrives

through the medium of the verse structure to sublimate this,

transcend that, and come to terms with the fundamental

dichotomies of the other," (he was reaching a triumphant

crescendo ...) "and one is left with a profound and vivid insight

into ... into ... er ..." (... which suddenly gave out on him.)

Ford leaped in with the coup de gr@ce:

"Into whatever it was the poem was about!" he yelled. Out of the

corner of his mouth: "Well done, Arthur, that was very good."

The Vogon perused them. For a moment his embittered racial soul

had been touched, but he thought no - too little too late. His

voice took on the quality of a cat snagging brushed nylon.

"So what you're saying is that I write poetry because underneath

my mean callous heartless exterior I really just want to be

loved," he said. He paused. "Is that right?"

Ford laughed a nervous laugh. "Well I mean yes," he said, "don't

we all, deep down, you know ... er ..."

The Vogon stood up.

"No, well you're completely wrong," he said, "I just write poetry

to throw my mean callous heartless exterior into sharp relief.

I'm going to throw you off the ship anyway. Guard! Take the

prisoners to number three airlock and throw them out!"

"What?" shouted Ford.

A huge young Vogon guard stepped forward and yanked them out of

their straps with his huge blubbery arms.

"You can't throw us into space," yelled Ford, "we're trying to

write a book."

"Resistance is useless!" shouted the Vogon guard back at him. It

was the first phrase he'd learnt when he joined the Vogon Guard

Corps.

The captain watched with detached amusement and then turned away.

Arthur stared round him wildly.

"I don't want to die now!" he yelled. "I've still got a headache!

I don't want to go to heaven with a headache, I'd be all cross

and wouldn't enjoy it!"

The guard grasped them both firmly round the neck, and bowing

deferentially towards his captain's back, hoiked them both

protesting out of the bridge. A steel door closed and the captain

was on his own again. He hummed quietly and mused to himself,

lightly fingering his notebook of verses.

"Hmmmm," he said, "counterpoint the surrealism of the underlying

metaphor ..." He considered this for a moment, and then closed

the book with a grim smile.

"Death's too good for them," he said.

The long steel-lined corridor echoed to the feeble struggles of

the two humanoids clamped firmly under rubbery Vogon armpits.

"This is great," spluttered Arthur, "this is really terrific. Let

go of me you brute!"

The Vogon guard dragged them on.

"Don't you worry," said Ford, "I'll think of something." He

didn't sound hopeful.

"Resistance is useless!" bellowed the guard.

"Just don't say things like that," stammered Ford. "How can

anyone maintain a positive mental attitude if you're saying

things like that?"

"My God," complained Arthur, "you're talking about a positive

mental attitude and you haven't even had your planet demolished

today. I woke up this morning and thought I'd have a nice relaxed

day, do a bit of reading, brush the dog ... It's now just after

four in the afternoon and I'm already thrown out of an alien

spaceship six light years from the smoking remains of the Earth!"

He spluttered and gurgled as the Vogon tightened his grip.

"Alright," said Ford, "just stop panicking."

"Who said anything about panicking?" snapped Arthur. "This is

still just the culture shock. You wait till I've settled down

into the situation and found my bearings. Then I'll start

panicking."

"Arthur you're getting hysterical. Shut up!" Ford tried

desperately to think, but was interrupted by the guard shouting

again.

"Resistance is useless!"

"And you can shut up as well!" snapped Ford.

"Resistance is useless!"

"Oh give it a rest," said Ford. He twisted his head till he was

looking straight up into his captor's face. A thought struck him.

"Do you really enjoy this sort of thing?" he asked suddenly.

The Vogon stopped dead and a look of immense stupidity seeped

slowly over his face.

"Enjoy?" he boomed. "What do you mean?"

"What I mean," said Ford, "is does it give you a full satisfying

life? Stomping around, shouting, pushing people out of spaceships

..."

The Vogon stared up at the low steel ceiling and his eyebrows

almost rolled over each other. His mouth slacked. Finally he

said, "Well the hours are good ..."

"They'd have to be," agreed Ford.

Arthur twisted his head to look at Ford.

"Ford, what are you doing?" he asked in an amazed whisper.

"Oh, just trying to take an interest in the world around me, OK?"

he said. "So the hours are pretty good then?" he resumed.

The Vogon stared down at him as sluggish thoughts moiled around

in the murky depths.

"Yeah," he said, "but now you come to mention it, most of the

actual minutes are pretty lousy. Except ..." he thought again,

which required looking at the ceiling - "except some of the

shouting I quite like." He filled his lungs and bellowed,

"Resistance is ..."

"Sure, yes," interrupted Ford hurriedly, "you're good at that, I

can tell. But if it's mostly lousy," he said, slowly giving the

words time to reach their mark, "then why do you do it? What is

it? The girls? The leather? The machismo? Or do you just find

that coming to terms with the mindless tedium of it all presents

an interesting challenge?"

"Er ..." said the guard, "er ... er ... I dunno. I think I just

sort of ... do it really. My aunt said that spaceship guard was a

good career for a young Vogon - you know, the uniform, the low-

slung stun ray holster, the mindless tedium ..."

"There you are Arthur," said Ford with the air of someone

reaching the conclusion of his argument, "you think you've got

problems."

Arthur rather thought he had. Apart from the unpleasant business

with his home planet the Vogon guard had half-throttled him

already and he didn't like the sound of being thrown into space

very much.

"Try and understand his problem," insisted Ford. "Here he is poor

lad, his entire life's work is stamping around, throwing people

off spaceships ..."

"And shouting," added the guard.

"And shouting, sure," said Ford patting the blubbery arm clamped

round his neck in friendly condescension, "... and he doesn't

even know why he's doing it!"

Arthur agreed this was very sad. He did this with a small feeble

gesture, because he was too asphyxicated to speak.

Deep rumblings of bemusement came from the guard.

"Well. Now you put it like that I suppose ..."

"Good lad!" encouraged Ford.

"But alright," went on the rumblings, "so what's the

alternative?"

"Well," said Ford, brightly but slowly, "stop doing it of course!

Tell them," he went on, "you're not going to do it anymore." He

felt he had to add something to that, but for the moment the

guard seemed to have his mind occupied pondering that much.

"Eerrrrrrmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm ..." said the guard, "erm, well

that doesn't sound that great to me."

Ford suddenly felt the moment slipping away.

"Now wait a minute," he said, "that's just the start you see,

there's more to it than that you see ..."

But at that moment the guard renewed his grip and continued his

original purpose of lugging his prisoners to the airlock. He was

obviously quite touched.

"No, I think if it's all the same to you," he said, "I'd better

get you both shoved into this airlock and then go and get on with

some other bits of shouting I've got to do."

It wasn't all the same to Ford Prefect after all.

"Come on now ... but look!" he said, less slowly, less brightly.

"Huhhhhgggggggnnnnnnn ..." said Arthur without any clear

inflection.

"But hang on," pursued Ford, "there's music and art and things to

tell you about yet! Arrrggghhh!"

"Resistance is useless," bellowed the guard, and then added, "You

see if I keep it up I can eventually get promoted to Senior

Shouting Officer, and there aren't usually many vacancies for

non-shouting and non-pushing-people-about officers, so I think

I'd better stick to what I know."

They had now reached the airlock - a large circular steel

hatchway of massive strength and weight let into the inner skin

of the craft. The guard operated a control and the hatchway swung

smoothly open.

"But thanks for taking an interest," said the Vogon guard. "Bye

now." He flung Ford and Arthur through the hatchway into the

small chamber within. Arthur lay panting for breath. Ford

scrambled round and flung his shoulder uselessly against the

reclosing hatchway.

"But listen," he shouted to the guard, "there's a whole world you

don't know anything about ... here how about this?" Desperately

he grabbed for the only bit of culture he knew offhand - he

hummed the first bar of Beethoven's Fifth.

"Da da da dum! Doesn't that stir anything in you?"

"No," said the guard, "not really. But I'll mention it to my

aunt."

If he said anything further after that it was lost. The hatchway

sealed itself tight, and all sound was lost but the faint distant

hum of the ship's engines.

They were in a brightly polished cylindrical chamber about six

feet in diameter and ten feet long.

"Potentially bright lad I thought," he said and slumped against

the curved wall.

Arthur was still lying in the curve of the floor where he had

fallen. He didn't look up. He just lay panting.

"We're trapped now aren't we?"

"Yes," said Ford, "we're trapped."

"Well didn't you think of anything? I thought you said you were

going to think of something. Perhaps you thought of something and

didn't notice."

"Oh yes, I thought of something," panted Ford. Arthur looked up

expectantly.

"But unfortunately," continued Ford, "it rather involved being on

the other side of this airtight hatchway." He kicked the hatch

they'd just been through.

"But it was a good idea was it?"

"Oh yes, very neat."

"What was it?"

"Well I hadn't worked out the details yet. Not much point now is

there?"

"So ... er, what happens next?"

"Oh, er, well the hatchway in front of us will open automatically

in a few moments and we will shoot out into deep space I expect

and asphyxicate. If you take a lungful of air with you you can

last for up to thirty seconds of course ..." said Ford. He stuck

his hands behind his back, raised his eyebrows and started to hum

an old Betelgeusian battle hymn. To Arthur's eyes he suddenly

looked very alien.

"So this is it," said Arthur, "we're going to die."

"Yes," said Ford, "except ... no! Wait a minute!" he suddenly

lunged across the chamber at something behind Arthur's line of

vision. "What's this switch?" he cried.

"What? Where?" cried Arthur twisting round.

"No, I was only fooling," said Ford, "we are going to die after

all."

He slumped against the wall again and carried on the tune from

where he left off.

"You know," said Arthur, "it's at times like this, when I'm

trapped in a Vogon airlock with a man from Betelgeuse, and about

to die of asphyxication in deep space that I really wish I'd

listened to what my mother told me when I was young."

"Why, what did she tell you?"

"I don't know, I didn't listen."

"Oh." Ford carried on humming.

"This is terrific," Arthur thought to himself, "Nelson's Column

has gone, McDonald's have gone, all that's left is me and the

words Mostly Harmless. Any second now all that will be left is

Mostly Harmless. And yesterday the planet seemed to be going so

well."

A motor whirred.

A slight hiss built into a deafening roar of rushing air as the

outer hatchway opened on to an empty blackness studded with tiny

impossibly bright points of light. Ford and Arthur popped into

outer space like corks from a toy gun.

[PluOntS]

Läste "När lammen tystnar" för ett tag sen. Fyfan vad bra den är

[JMC]

Ja jag läser så sällan böker men den bästa bör nog vara:

"No Easy Answers: The Truth Behind Death at Columbine"

Fick låna den av en kompis för några månader sedan.

Tror han köpte den Här

[Vice.]

Läste "När lammen tystnar" för ett tag sen. Fyfan vad bra den är

Är den bättre än filmen!?

Oftast är böckerna bättre! Precis som "Ondskan", boken sjukt bra och filmen bra!

Men liftarens... ska jag nog kolla efter. Den verkar intressant!