At the time he died, I'd been a fan of Douglas Adams for about 25 years. After he died, they released a collection of essays, works in progress, notes and such. In it, he described the amazement he had for his favorite author, who he described as having an amazing way with words. The guy that amazed me with "It flew in much the same way a brick doesn't." was amazed by someone else's way with words. So, I put down Salmon, walked to the nearest bookshop, and bought a couple of volumes by P.G. ( if I may call him that) Wodehouse and began a new era of fandom that rivals my adoration of dear old Doug.