As quintessentially English as Morris Dancing and Cricket, P. G. Wodehouse’s novels are not just veritable feats of humour but some of the best stories that I have ever buried myself in.
Some novels I have read in the past seem to try to contrive a plot around an already worked out ending, or just use characters with a few witty one liners or running jokes, these books seem shallow after a jaunt with Jeeves And Wooster.
Wodehouse though achieves the perfect balance with all of the above tactics and adds his own inimitable writing style to the fray, which moves from clever plotting to over the top, energetic, whimsical hilarity.
The novels centre around Bertie Wooster a dim, monied, upper class chap who spends most of his time either falling in love, avoiding marriage or getting involved in mishaps, misunderstanding and down right farcical situations.
His ever faithful valet Jeeves is a man of the utmost discretion with a love of the philosopher Spinoza and a general mastery of a wide range of subjects, not to mention a subtlety with which he is able to discreetly maneuver people around to his way of thinking. He also has a critical eye for fashion.
Wodehouse’s plots are a finely balanced tapestry of goings on, never complicated but with enough plates spinning to keep the reader interested in the machinations of the characters. Each plot is almost an intermingling subplot within the structure of the book, often when a mini plotline seems to have come to its amusing conclusion it is brought back later on for a further humourous effect. Read the rest of this entry »