Surprising Revelations ~or~ If I Were You*

Within the last year, my Facebook feed started to include offerings from The Guardian.  For those who don’t know, that newspaper is the bastion of liberalism in the UK.  They have been embroiled for the last ten years in a lawsuit against the government to release some letters written by Prince Charles to members of Parliament.  The Guardian is of the firm opinion that the content of these letters would demonstrate that the prince, who like all members of the royal family is supposed to be politically neutral, was trying to exert his influence in an improper fashion.  It has been whispered by those in the know that the implications of this could lead to a succession crisis upon QEII’s death, which is bound to happen any decade now.

I would not have thought that Wodehouse had much in common with The Guardian.  After all, a large number of his characters are either aristocratic, well-to-do, or trying to become one, the other, or both.  While Plum does lampoon those people, he does so in a very gentle manner.  It is not as though the members of the lower classes are immune from his light satiric touch.  So I was drawn up short while reading If I Were You.  The plot of the novel, as the back of the book tell us, is a common changeling theme that was popular during Victorian times.  The jist is that Tony Droitwich, the heir of Lord Droitwich, is not Tony Droitwich.  Instead, he was born Syd Price and was switched at birth.  When Mr. Price, the true Droitwich heir, happens upon this piece of news, he turns up at the manor and asserts his rights.

At this point, I would have suspected that, once lives were switched, the real Syd Price would have been miserable taking up residence in a London barber shop, having been removed from wealth and privilege, and the real Tony Droitwich would swoon upon being taken up into the lap of luxury.  Instead, the opposite happens; at the end, Tony Droitwich reluctantly agrees to reassume his identity and Syd Price happily retreats back to London. 

There are some interesting implications behind this.  Wodehouse implies that nature does not necessarily make the man and that a strong argument can be made in favor of nurture.  Taken to its extreme, it can be implied that, given the right circumstances, almost anyone can be an aristocrat.  The other interesting observation is that not everyone is thrilled to be in control of money and estates, and that sometimes, a life in a prosperous business in London is the way to go.  The book was originally published in 1931, which meant that the real effect of the super tax and the heavy death duties that were imposed a decade or so earlier were really beginning to have their effects on landed estates.  Wodehouse was starting to point out that all was not strawberries and cream in the lives of the wealthy.  While Wodehouse certainly was not calling out for the abolishment of the monarchy, he certainly was beginning to share The Guardian’s suspicions that all was not well. 

*This book was read in November 2014.

Blandings

It is hard being the following act of a tremendously successful predecessor.  In fact, second artistic endeavors as notoriously difficult to follow.  Such was the plot of “The Wonder Boys.”, which saw an author struggle for decades to follow his blockbuster debut.  So it was with a feeling of pity that I consider those who were involved with the two season BBC production of the televised Blandings Castle stories.

The sparkling paragon of modern televised Wodehouse adaptations is, of course, Jeeves and Wooster which starred Stephen Fry and Hugh Laurie.*  These shows aired in the 1990s but I find that people still brighten with recognition and refer to the show when I mention Wodehouse in general conversation.  The adaptation was nothing short of brilliant.  Fry and Laurie will forever be etched in my mind when I read about the exploits of the man-about-town and his gentleman’s gentleman. 

I wish the same could be said about Blandings.  Normally, I would be the first to champion any attempt to foist Wodehouse on the masses, but I don’t feel that I can endorse this without reservations.  While Timothy Spall had the mannerism of Lord Emsworth, I wonder if something could have been done to make him older.  The casting of Jennifer Saunders as his sister Constance also felt a bit off.  I adore Ms. Saunders’ work, but it felt as though her comic genius had been thrust into a straightjacket.  The most off-putting casting decision of all was that of Blandings Castle itself.  The production was based in Northern Ireland and, I’m sorry, but the English countryside really cannot be replaced.  I felt as though I was listening to my favorite song a half-note out of key.**

The other thing which truly annoyed me was the numerous crude gimmicks that suffused each episode, especially in the first season.  That most egregious one was the habit of Freddie’s front forelock of hair had of straightening whenever he saw a pretty woman.  This, added to the rest of them that are too numerous and painful to mention, made watching the first series a bit tedious.  Mercifully, these decreased in frequency during the second series, but it might have been too little too late.  Although there are a number of repeated lines and motifs in Wodehouse, they are usually incorporated with more finesse.  It felt as though the production was trying to be over the top, as though they were not confident that a modern audience would enjoy Wodehouse.  Talk about gilding the lily.***

*Yes, THAT Hugh Laurie, the one who starred as House.  He was also in a few series of Blackadder, and I always recommend that devotees of the actor’s American incarnation watch those shows if they want to be deeply amused and impressed by Mr. Laurie’s range. 

** Which, if anyone believes my husband, is how I typically sing, but that is beside the point.

***I have been away from my blog for a while now, due to settling in with my family’s new arrival and coping with the horrendous historic winter.  I did not abandon reading Wodehouse.  This entry was for the book I read in September 2014, Pigs Have Wings.

The Magnificent Mulliners

Both branches of my family tree are heavily laden.  On my father’s side, my cousins have a remarkable ability to shoot out offspring from our youngest days up to the time when normal people would have assumed that the factory was well and truly closed.  The result is a large and merry horde that I adore.  What makes me pause is the knowledge that, numerous as we are, we represent only one offshoot of my great-grandfather’s family and, given that he was Irish, I am willing to bet a hefty sum that he was not an only child. 

My maternal side is, at first glance, small and compact by comparison.  This only applies to this side of the Atlantic.  Thirty years ago this past summer, my mother and I traveled to the land of her birth, whereupon I made the startling discovery that I am related to entire villages in Eastern Europe.  Over the year, my grandmother has told me snippets of tales concerning our family, some members long dead and buried.

These reminisces are to say that I completely understand where Mr. Mulliner is coming from when he launches into reveries about his related twigs.  Wodehouse does not do much character building of our intrepid narrator.  We know his favorite watering hole, we know that he disregards those around him when he wants to carry on.  That being said, the sheer number of Mulliner stories that exist in the Wodehouse cannon show a character who gets no end of a kick out of his family.  I don’t know much about the extended Wodehouse clan, but, knowing the realities of living abroad, far removed from your ancestors and related contemporaries, I do wonder how close he was able to be with them.  While I hate to lapse into psychological speculation, I do wonder how much the Mulliner tales reveal a yearning on Wodehouse’s part to be surrounded by a large and merry horde.  It is a natural instinct, especially when one is an ex-pat.  For as much as the said ex-pat probably adored his adopted country, there is almost always an innate yearning for a connection to those who know you and your family. 

Everything Old...

I do not understand the current hipster fascination with facial hair, especially mustaches.  This is probably one of many signs that I am on the precipice of fogey-dom.  It is not something that particularly worries me.  Then again, perhaps the very fact that I am reading the collected Wodehouse is a billboard pointing to the fact that I do not mingle well with the hip and with-it.

 

What further perplexes me is not that mustaches adorn the upper lips of select gentlemen, but that they have made their way onto an alarming array of goods including, but not limited to, necklaces, automobiles, t-shirts, and pacifiers.*  There must be some humor that I’m failing to grasp, much like my inability to enjoy The Flight of the Conchords as much as everyone seemed to.

It would seem that, once again, I have a comrade-in-arms in Wodehouse.  One of the stories in “Lord Emsworth and Others” features a mustache growing contest between two local worthies.  At the height of the action one of them is shaved off in the dead of night.  When the denuded victim of the prank appears the next day, everyone is delighted by his appearance and remarks how much better he looks. 

Mustaches in Wodehouse seem to be reserved for the older set.  I remember at one point that Bertie attempted to grow one, but was ultimately convinced by Jeeves to part with it.  One gets the sense that they are vestiges of the Victorian age, something that is not embodied in the frothiness of Bertie and his gang.  A man with a mustache in Wodehouse is a figure of fun, although perhaps not meant in the same way that it is today, since I cannot imagine one of Wodehouse’s characters in skinny jeans and a knit beanie. 

*I do stand firm in my belief that the former UK PM John Major would have benefited from a mustache.  It might have lent him an air of panache that his administration sorely lacked.

Lord Who?

Not much is seen of Lord Bosham, Lord Emsworth’s heir in the Blandings Castle series.  I have a persistent feeling that, although he is referred to in a number of the stories, he does not make an appearance until this month’s selection “Uncle Fred in the Springtime.”*  Lord Bosham’s younger brother keeps popping up like a cork in the earlier books until he is married off to an American dog biscuit heiress.  Despite being dispatched overseas, Freddie does reappear on occasion.  One gets the feeling that Wodehouse rather liked writing about him.

This feeling cannot be applied to the older brother, I’m afraid.  Whereas Freddie is a catalyst of many plots, and certainly he causes his father much angst pre-marriage as it seems children must, the same does not apply to Bosham.  This distinct feeling that I took away from this month’s selection is that Wodehouse could not find a definite role for him.  Early on in the book, he is a questioner who assists with plot exposition.  Later, in the madcap conclusion, he is the straight man who is removed from the scene as everyone is taken up by the encircling lunacy. 

The other problem is that there is nothing distinct about his characterization.  The role of a young man trying to maintain order is already taken by the erstwhile ex-secretary, Baxter.  There is not much for Lord Bosham to do, which I suspect is a common feeling among heirs (would that one could get Prince Charles’ views on this.). 

So much of Wodehouse’s plots feel like a juggling act.  The majority of them are rather successful, hence his massive writing career.  Because of the success, one of the few times when one of the balls goes rolling away is notable.  Something tells me that the later Blandings books will not be Bosham-packed. 

*One should be warned that Overlook’s cover features a character in blackface.  In my late-pregnancy haze, I did not realize straightaway that I ought to have removed the slipcover whilst out and about in public with it.  I now realize why I got a few strange looks on the train.