The Last One, Sort Of ~or~ Sunset at Blandings*

Unfinished novels are a tricky business.  They can be the source of much speculation even when copious  notes outlining the unwritten action exist.  Who knows how the Muse might or might not have influenced Plum at the last moment.  He could have thrown the entire thing out and had everyone run off with the circus (well, this is probably not likely).  Sunset at Blandings is sadly unfinished.  Because of this, no fewer than three editors have had their say about it, which makes for a very crowded authorship.  So when I alluded in the title of this last entry that it was sort of my last Wodehouse, I meant that I think that number of cooks involved firmly removes it from the list of Must Reads of the Plum oeuvre. 

It’s tough having a few voices in your head.  This was certainly the case with this book, because there were endnotes by Richard Usborne that illuminated the action.**  Then there were some lovely appendices at the end, speculating on the identities of the properties and pigs that inspired the creation of Blandings Castle and its empress.  The book itself was not in a final draft and it was bereft of the usual flourishes.  I wonder if Wodehouse would have been happy that it was published.  Probably, because it made money for his heirs, and he was always concerned about having enough dosh and I suspect he would not have begrudged them of a money-spinning opportunity. 

It feels odd to be in this position.  During the years that I have kept this blog, I have reflected on what I would say in the last entry.  One possibility would be to reflect on the changes that have happened to me and the country since early 2009.  I think, however, that I have allowed current events to invade this blog just enough; too much would see me on a soapbox, and this is not the place.  On the personal front, I have had two children, been divorced and remarried, changed jobs, and said goodbye to far too many loved ones.***  The duration of my relationship with Wodehouse now only surpasses those I’ve had with England and the saint who was the focus of my doctoral dissertation.****

The curious reader may wonder what I’ve got next up my sleeve.  The truth is that, as much as I’ll miss Plum, I’m happy not to have my reading selections be so prescribed.  I have a couple of bookshelves at home filled with titles that I keep meaning to turn to.  Also, the Want to Read section of my Goodreads site is well populated.  In time, I will probably get around to finally plowing through Remembrances of Things Past, finishing off the remaining Shakespeare titles I have not read, and probably consult all of Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes tales (but not the modern ones by different authors as things like that are not my cup of tea). 

I suspect that my first book might be a history of the Romanoffs or something by Stefan Zweig.  Maybe I’ll pick something at random from off my shelves, or peruse Cold Comfort Farm for the one-millionth time.  It does not matter, because at the end of the day, I’ll be reading.  If today’s weather is any indication, I shall be reading surrounded by a delightful spring, with the promise of summer imminent. 

*Read April 2017

**I hate endnotes.  The part I object to the most is flipping back and forth, or having to keep your finger in to mark the place, resulting in an uncomfortable reading experience.  Give me footnotes or give me death. 

***The most recent death was last week, and I’m still reeling from it.  It oddly coincided with finishing this project, which made me feel only more bereft.  It’s been an emotional week.

***Not counting family, of course.  The poor things are just as stuck with me as I am with them.