Definitive Numbers ~or~ Stiff Upper Lip Jeeves*

I’m reaching the point where I have almost run into my last Bertie and Jeeves book.  It is a bit of an odd feeling, because while it seems as though I should be very close to being done, in reality this project probably has another couple of years left in it.  The root of the matter is that I have no idea just how many Wodehouse books there are.  This might seem like an odd problem to have: since Wodehouse is such a well-known author whose works have been around for some time, a comprehensive list of his works cannot be difficult to find.

And yet, that is precisely the question that I am facing.  The Overlook Press edition of Wodehouse is not only publishing his fiction, but also some of his letters, memoirs, and non-fiction.  While I will buy them all (or have them given to me as presents from my friends and family who by now are more than attuned to my eccentricities) I’m probably only going to count the fiction towards my goal.  Probably.  As anyone who knows me very well can tell you, I don’t like doing things by half measures.  For example, one of my favorite recent television shows is the revival of Doctor Who.  One would think that a normal person who loves the show would try and get caught up with all of the preceding series of the show, given that there are so many of them.  The issue lies in the fact that I like to start things from the beginning when possible, and not all of the Doctor Who shows are still extant.  More accurately, there is a decent likelihood that they are extant, but the BBC in London has not the foggiest where they are.  Occasionally, caches turn up in far-flung corners of the former empire.  It maddens and intrigues me that it might just be possible that all of the episodes do, in fact, exist.  Until then, I waver on the decision to see them. 

This is another part of the Wodehouse problem.  One of the major complicating factors of having a complete list of his works is that it appears that not all of his works are known.  The other day, whilst searching the internet furiously for a comprehensive Wodehouse list, I came into contact with Neil Midkiff who pointed out the Wodehouse Society website to me.  Those industrious people have actually been turning up new stories, most of which were published early in Wodehouse’s career when he was probably more interested in making ends meet than posterity.  I can read them online, thanks to the fact that they are now out of copyright.  And, being who I am, I’ll probably do that. 

However, even when the day comes when I have read everything that Overlook has published by Wodehouse and I’ve gone through the Wodehouse Soc. Trove, I’ll still be wondering.  This morning I read an article in The New Yorker about the discovery of a trunk that was filled with Callot Soeurs dresses.  The sisters presided over a major fashion empire in the 19^th and early 20th centuries, although few of their dresses have survived.  I wonder if the same hold true of Wodehouse’s works, if someday someone will stumble across a trunk filled with even more stories.  The possibility on one had deeply intrigues me and, on the other, deeply concerns my completion-driven soul.

*Read February 2015

Everybody Wants to be Sherlock Holmes ~or~ Tales of Wrykyn and Elsewhere*

 We live in interesting times.  In the past few years, it feels as though my childhood has reappeared on television, although seen through some sort of odd looking-glass.  Both Dallas and Hawaii 5-O have been remade, it sounds as though one of those Aaron Spelling productions from the 90’s enjoyed a renaissance, Twin Peaks will soon be repopulated, and even Agents Mulder and Scully will be back on the case.  It really should not surprise me then that there are no fewer than two interpretations of Sherlock Holmes on our screens, and these on the heels of Guy Ritchie’s cinematic interpretations starring Robert Downey Jr.  Everything that is old is new again** and nothing is as classic as watching the residents of 221B Baker Street solve crimes.

While Edgar Allen Poe and his lot may have invented the detective story, I don’t think that anyone can dispute that Sir Arthur Conan Doyle popularized the format.  His influence is felt not only in the retelling of his stories, but in every crime procedural I’ve ever watched, and believe me, they are legion.  As I’ve mentioned before, even Wodehouse fell under Conan Doyle’s influence while creating one of her most popular characters.  In her book Wooster Proposes, Jeeves Disposes, Kristin Thompson draws a parallel between Jeeves’ thinking process and Holmes’. 

However, it is not Jeeves that drew my attention while reading this collection of early school stories.  Two stories featured a very Holmes-like character called Burdock Rose, who unravels crimes associated with a public school.  I suspect that, like most of the school tales, these were written early on in Wodehouse’s career.  It is easy to tell why it looks as though only two were written.***  They almost have the feeling of some editor desperately wanting his own Holmes spin-off and sticking our Pelham with the job.  The stories themselves are a little peculiar; they have a feel of farce, but they do not go quite all the way.  It is almost as though Wodehouse was working against his own natural instinct to have fun with a form that was probably already growing a bit stale. 

The good thing about the stories though is the lasting inspiration they seem to have given him to have one remarkable, all-knowing figure who can propel a story or act as a deus ex machina.  No matter how he came to write these stories, I’m glad he did, because otherwise we might never have been introduced to Jeeves, hands-down one of the best literary creations of the 20^th century. 

*Read January 2015.

**This is a very appropriate theme for this time of year.  Finally, the snow banks are retreating, uncovering bits of the landscape unseen since January.

***This may not be the case.  In my copious free time, I really need to look at the Wodehouse Society’s excellent website to confirm this.  They are an extremely keen group who have done us all a favor by unearthing some of Plum’s forgotten works.

The Lost Marx Brother ~or~ The Old Reliable*

Many years ago, when dinosaurs roamed the earth and I was in high school, I was involved in a production of “Room Service.”  The play focuses on a band of actors trying to pull off a housing scheme for members of a production.  It is my experience that, at least in high school, the number of female actors is usually surplus to requirement.  Coupled with that is the fact that there seems to be a dearth of plays with largely female casts that do not revolve around some sort of women’s issue (for some reason, they are always dreary too, which does no one any good).  Fortunately, this sort of situation seems to be changing in the cinema, and it is only a matter of time until it trickles down to the stage (unless it has already; I live under a rock these days).

Back to high school.  The director that semester was aware of the gender imbalance and had the brilliant idea of switching the gender of the roles, meaning that the female parts far outnumbered those for males.  Although I was aware of this at the time, it was still a jolt later on to see a man play my role in the Marx Brothers film of the play.  “Room Service” was not written by any of that fabled comedy family, but it is certainly infused with their zany, madcap energy.  I felt the same zing reverberating through this month’s selection, The Old Reliable.

Wodehouse spent some time in Hollywood as a script writer.  This book, which is set in Tinsel Town and features one living and one dead silent screen queen, is sort of a Sunset Boulevard lite.  I mentioned Marx in a rambling preface because the rapid-fire lines and general sense of zaniness made me wonder if someone wearing ill-fitting clothes and chomping on a cigar was going to make an appearance.  The speed of the humor, while still very Wodehousian, had a different spin.  The most notable difference, which is why I mentioned my gender-bending high school theater, is that the title character is a woman, not a man.  While there have been a few fast-thinking female schemers in the Wodehouse universe, e.g. the sisters in French Leave, it really does feel as though Wodehouse originally wrote the part as a man and then, in a later edit, crossed him out and replaced the “he”s with “she”s.

I could make all sorts of observations, perhaps even label Plum a proto-feminist, but instead I find that my enjoyment came from this unexpected twist.  Just as you never know if the secret work in an episode of “You Bet Your Life” will be uttered, you never know what surprises lie ion store between the handsomely designed Overlook Press covers.

*Read December 2014

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.