“It was one of the dullest speeches I ever heard. The Agee woman told us for three quarters of an hour how she came to write her beastly book, when a simple apology was all that was required.”
You left out “The Code of Woosters “, where we were introduced to Roderick Spode. “I know all about Eulalie”. Classic Pelham Guy Wodehouse. Hilarious and irreverent take on British aristocracy. Takes me back to form one.
“…the sort of horror an elder of the church might feel if he saw his favourite bishop yielding in public to the fascination of jazz”
-From the Adventures of Sally. Great article. It reminded me how one can pick up any Wodehouse (even the lesser read bibles such as this one) randomly open a page (as I just did) and come across scintillating prose that brings a smile to your face.
When I met my wife, I noted she had a large collection of Wodehouse and Douglas Adams books. I took this as a good sign.
I think Wodehouse is right - one doesn’t necessarily need to enjoy the same authors, and mostly we do not - but you cannot even discuss or debate fiction with a non-reader.
Apropos to your most recent post about literary pessimism, I think this is linked to it.
There was a tipping point where people stopped talking about what they are reading and instead try to find common ground through what TV shows they have watched recently.
Having found something in common - the conversation can then move onto passionate agreement about how good it is, passionate agreement about how poor it is, or passionate disagreement.
(I am now wondering how much political argument is simply because it is a guaranteed shared subject of conversation)
The grass shoots on the Internet are an expression of a desire to talk about books. For all the doom, lots of people read but do not talk to each other about reading.
You might enjoy a short paper by Eliza Easton on Wodehouse and Christie - how they are not found on the curriculum, and looking at the lack of serious study they have received.
Hahaha yes, and yes! I love Wodehouse so. I think Lynne Truss said it best (if I recall correctly) - “reading Wodehouse will always lift one’s spirits, no matter how high they were to begin with.”
Also, my very favorite are the Psmith books - and Uncle Fred - and all the Blandings books… gaaaah it’s all of them. And I do feel your pain when I am giggling over a passage, try to share it with whoever I am with, and receive a blank stare. Have they no soul???
Fabulous summation, old thing. I couldn't have said it better. No, really. I couldn't have. My favorite is the short, 'Crime wave at Blandings'. Much giggling abounds upon every re-reading. Love Wodehouse!
I have that one, too. Haven't gotten to it yet. He was so clever with his way of turning a phrase. So I'm sure I'll enjoy it.
Yet somehow, out off all the Wodehouse I've read over the years my, favorites are still the Blandings Castle stories. I know Jeeves and Wooster tales have been the more popular over the decades, but the deceptively bucolic atmosphere of a gentleman country pig farmer surrounded by relatives who wish a more posh lifestyle has always set me to giggling. Sadly, the Blandings tales don't seem to be available on kindle. I've just had to resort to tracking down actual physical books. Not always easy. Fortunately, they tend to hide out on library shelves to be found by someone like me whose eye is captured by titles such as, The Perloined Paperweight. If you haven't read it yet, I highly recommend it. So goofy!
I look forward to further editorials on literary genius from your 'pen'.
"... a train that smelled like an old shoe that had been forgotten in a damp part of the house ..." is a nicely Wodehous-ian line. His work has always been a good prescription for me as well.
Enough to move one to tears of Purest Joy, reading this article.
There's this fantastic passage that always makes me cackle at the memory:
" I mean, when you’ve got used to a club where everything’s nice and cheery, and where, if you want to attract a chappie’s attention, you heave a bit of bread at him, it kind of damps you to come to a place where the youngest member is about eighty-seven and it isn’t considered good form to talk to anyone unless you and he were through the Peninsular War together. It was a relief to come across Bingo. We started to talk in hushed voices.
“This club,” I said, “is the limit.”
“It is the eel’s eyebrows,” agreed young Bingo. “I believe that old boy over by the window has been dead three days, but I don’t like to mention it to anyone.” "
"I once got engaged to his daughter Honoria, a ghastly dynamic exhibit who read Nietzsche and had a laugh like waves breaking on a stern and rockbound coast."
“It was one of the dullest speeches I ever heard. The Agee woman told us for three quarters of an hour how she came to write her beastly book, when a simple apology was all that was required.”
Haha excellent
There are many people like that on Substack.
Bertie: In the springtime, Jeeves, a livelier iris gleams upon the burnished dove.
Jeeves: so I have been informed, sir.
Bertie: Right then! Bring me my whangee, my yellowest shoes, and the old green homburg. I’m going to the park to do pastoral dances
Hehe excellent
"He looked like a sheep with a secret sorrow."
Ice formed on the butler’s upper slopes.
haha classic
You left out “The Code of Woosters “, where we were introduced to Roderick Spode. “I know all about Eulalie”. Classic Pelham Guy Wodehouse. Hilarious and irreverent take on British aristocracy. Takes me back to form one.
Thanks for the walk down memory lane.
Lord Sidcup of you don't mind.
I’m a big fan of PG Wodehouse.
“…the sort of horror an elder of the church might feel if he saw his favourite bishop yielding in public to the fascination of jazz”
-From the Adventures of Sally. Great article. It reminded me how one can pick up any Wodehouse (even the lesser read bibles such as this one) randomly open a page (as I just did) and come across scintillating prose that brings a smile to your face.
Oh that’s fantastic
When I met my wife, I noted she had a large collection of Wodehouse and Douglas Adams books. I took this as a good sign.
I think Wodehouse is right - one doesn’t necessarily need to enjoy the same authors, and mostly we do not - but you cannot even discuss or debate fiction with a non-reader.
Apropos to your most recent post about literary pessimism, I think this is linked to it.
There was a tipping point where people stopped talking about what they are reading and instead try to find common ground through what TV shows they have watched recently.
Having found something in common - the conversation can then move onto passionate agreement about how good it is, passionate agreement about how poor it is, or passionate disagreement.
(I am now wondering how much political argument is simply because it is a guaranteed shared subject of conversation)
The grass shoots on the Internet are an expression of a desire to talk about books. For all the doom, lots of people read but do not talk to each other about reading.
You might enjoy a short paper by Eliza Easton on Wodehouse and Christie - how they are not found on the curriculum, and looking at the lack of serious study they have received.
Hahaha yes, and yes! I love Wodehouse so. I think Lynne Truss said it best (if I recall correctly) - “reading Wodehouse will always lift one’s spirits, no matter how high they were to begin with.”
Also, my very favorite are the Psmith books - and Uncle Fred - and all the Blandings books… gaaaah it’s all of them. And I do feel your pain when I am giggling over a passage, try to share it with whoever I am with, and receive a blank stare. Have they no soul???
I thought nothing could beat Bertie till I met Comrade Psmith. He kills me every time.
This was wonderful, thank you!
Fabulous summation, old thing. I couldn't have said it better. No, really. I couldn't have. My favorite is the short, 'Crime wave at Blandings'. Much giggling abounds upon every re-reading. Love Wodehouse!
Haha thanks Annette. I read The Man Upstairs recently, which was excellent.
I have that one, too. Haven't gotten to it yet. He was so clever with his way of turning a phrase. So I'm sure I'll enjoy it.
Yet somehow, out off all the Wodehouse I've read over the years my, favorites are still the Blandings Castle stories. I know Jeeves and Wooster tales have been the more popular over the decades, but the deceptively bucolic atmosphere of a gentleman country pig farmer surrounded by relatives who wish a more posh lifestyle has always set me to giggling. Sadly, the Blandings tales don't seem to be available on kindle. I've just had to resort to tracking down actual physical books. Not always easy. Fortunately, they tend to hide out on library shelves to be found by someone like me whose eye is captured by titles such as, The Perloined Paperweight. If you haven't read it yet, I highly recommend it. So goofy!
I look forward to further editorials on literary genius from your 'pen'.
Annette
They’re increasingly available as free ebooks from Gutenberg and standardebooks as they come out of copyright.
… although I think only one Blandings book so far
Reggie Pepper (after angering Mary Cardew):
"I ran across Mary at the Academy last week, and her eyes went through me like a couple of bullets through a pat of butter."
My favorite is Leave it to Psmith, with Galahad at Blandings running a very close second. I'm very much in favor of upsetting Baxter.
"... a train that smelled like an old shoe that had been forgotten in a damp part of the house ..." is a nicely Wodehous-ian line. His work has always been a good prescription for me as well.
Enough to move one to tears of Purest Joy, reading this article.
There's this fantastic passage that always makes me cackle at the memory:
" I mean, when you’ve got used to a club where everything’s nice and cheery, and where, if you want to attract a chappie’s attention, you heave a bit of bread at him, it kind of damps you to come to a place where the youngest member is about eighty-seven and it isn’t considered good form to talk to anyone unless you and he were through the Peninsular War together. It was a relief to come across Bingo. We started to talk in hushed voices.
“This club,” I said, “is the limit.”
“It is the eel’s eyebrows,” agreed young Bingo. “I believe that old boy over by the window has been dead three days, but I don’t like to mention it to anyone.” "
"I once got engaged to his daughter Honoria, a ghastly dynamic exhibit who read Nietzsche and had a laugh like waves breaking on a stern and rockbound coast."