The Inimitable Jeeves

This book could very easily have been titled “The Many Loves of Bingo Little.”  It was extremely satisfying to me for a couple of reasons.  The first was that, although a Bertie and Jeeves novel, it heavily featured one of my favorite supporting Wodehouse characters: the aforementioned Mr. Little.  He is an old school chum of Bertie’s, and, in later volumes, tends to be a more stable presence.  The other aspect of the novel that I found enjoyable was its structure.  It felt like a series of interconnected short stories, with details and themes that at first appeared to be inconsequential being woven throughout and are ultimately crucial to the plot.  I always enjoy when an author does not mention something only to abandon it later.  I suppose that is why I’m always a stickler for continuity in television series writing (although, for some odd reason, I always give Doctor Who a pass, perhaps because all of the timey-wimey stuff sometimes boggles my brain.). 

In the course of the book Bingo falls in and out love perhaps a half-dozen times.  At one point, I began to wonder if this was almost meant as a piece of satire.  This came when Bertie was describing his idea of a good time as chucking dinner rolls around the dining room of his private club and then, in the same breath, thinking that Bingo was being more than a little silly due to the rapidity at which he became besotted with the female du jour.  You know you are in trouble when someone who counts the height of their day as food fight thinks you are a bit potty.  Wodehouse’s humor derives mostly from his elegant wordplay and observations.  There is almost no cruelty involved with his comic observations.  In this way, he differs greatly from Edward St. Aubyn, who wrote the Patrick Melrose novels.  I read the first four books of that series this summer (there are five altogether.  The last one was published this year.).  They are highly enjoyable and deeply funny, although the humor I cruelty at its most basic.  St. Aubyn has much in common with Bret Easton Ellis.  His bon mots almost feel like the first grenades being lobbed in a class war. 

The other thing that struck me about the Patrick Melrose character is that one of his guiding forces is lust.  The same could probably be said about Mr. Little, although Wodehouse never touches upon sex.  You know that it must happen, as babies emerge now and then, but, typically for this period, it is never mentioned.  He approaches Bingo’s infatuations from a very innocent point of view, making him seem more like the prisoner of his emotions that some sex-starved young man on the make.  Bertie’s amusement about Bingo’s romantic entanglements, I would venture to say, mirrors Wodehouse’s gentle mocking of what young men can be like.  It is affectionate, as though Wodehouse himself was relieved to be removed from such a period himself.  This gentle humor is one of the parts of Wodehouse’s writing that I really like.  It is such a relief from our modern times, which has such a rough edge it to.  Reading Wodehouse is like a vacation for one’s sensibilities.