And I've never been the same since...
...age 15, when I first discovered P.G. Wodehouse. My Dad returned home from a library sale with two moth-eaten old books, "Thank You, Jeeves" and "Laughing Gas", respectively. "You might like these," he said, tossing them in my lap. "Very amusing, I think you'll find them."
I wasn't so sure. I studied the one on top, the one with "Jeeves" in the title. Externally it wasn't much to write home about. A worn and dog-eared copy. Kinda like something the cat might have discovered in Tutenkhamen's tomb. But to humor the old blood relation I went through the motions. I opened to page one...read a few lines...fell madly, hopelessly in love...and the rest is history!
Now, years later, I own well over 100 copies of the Master's books, the contents of which have seeped deep into my psyche. I mean to say, what? I have sported on the green of Valley Fields and played tennis with Rodney Spelvin. I have visited Blandings Castle many times----always under false colors---and listened to my host rhapsodize about his prize sow. I have hobnobbed with Eggs, Beans and Crumpets in the Drones smoking room. I have been hoodwinked by Ukridge and charmed by Psmith. I have even blackmailed the bigwigs at Perfecto-Zizzbaum in Hollywood, wanting them to make me the next Minna Nordstrom. And whenever the slings and arrows of o. f. threaten to get me down, I have Mulliner's Buck-U-Uppo as a magic restorative.
But the place that is nearest my heart, the place to which I return many a time and oft---as the fellow said--- is 3a Berkeley Mansions, London W.1. I rate the Jeeves series as Wodehouse's highest achievement. Yet what can a girl do? After each visit I must (regretfully) tear myself away from the charming Bertie Wooster because, much as I love him, he isn't the marrying kind. And really, it seems okay to leave him in such good and capable hands---viz. Jeeves's. I only hope that if there's a heaven---and assuming that there is, and that I check in there some day---I'll find waiting for me MORE, hitherto unheard-of and unread,Jeeves books to enjoy!:
Letter from a elderly neophyte in Wodehouse.
At 65 years of age, with a doctoral degree, I humbly submit I find myself bewildered. Seeing your age ranges for beginners, my question is: how could anyone under 18 understand Wodehouse? I am struggling with Quick Service, my first Wodehouse novel, reading as slowly as I can. What am I doing that makes Wodehouse so difficult? Once in a while, yes, I get a great laugh out of it. (British humor is not impossible to master.) But I suspect I am missing 90% of the meaning. Is it illusionary to hope for an interpretational key to Wodehouse? Is there some special approach that will dispel the cloud of unknowing here? I really want to get into Wodehouse. He is bringing an untold joy into my life.
Wodehouse and America and Americans in his fiction.
Lord Emsworth’s sister the formidable Lady Constance marries American millionaire, Joe Schoonmaker. Sue Brown has visited Blandings pretending to be his daughter Myra – she has an American accent in any case.
Bertie escapes Aunt Agatha in Carry On Jeeves to New York, which is the scene of some short stories, including The Aunt and the Sluggard, which the World of Wooster re-set in London rather than New York.
In Thank You Jeeves, central characters are Bertie’s old flame Pauline Stoker and her father, the inevitably dyspeptic American millionaire, J Washburn Stoker.
Outside the Blandings and Jeeves stories, Americans are probably even more frequent. The Little Nugget is an American child. The Coming of Bill is wholly American. Mr Mulliner tells stories about Hollywood. Monty Bodkin has to work as Hollywood script writer. And so on...