We are a commune of inquiring, skeptical, politically centrist, capitalist, anglophile, traditionalist New England Yankee humans, humanoids, and animals with many interests beyond and above politics. Each of us has had a high-school education (or GED), but all had ADD so didn't pay attention very well, especially the dogs. Each one of us does "try my best to be just like I am," and none of us enjoys working for others, including for Maggie, from whom we receive neither a nickel nor a dime. Freedom from nags, cranks, government, do-gooders, control-freaks and idiots is all that we ask for.
“I sometimes feel,” Wodehouse wrote Townend in 1933, “as if I were a case of infantilism. I seem mentally so exactly as I was then [at school]. All my ideas and ideals are the same. I still think the Bedford [cricket] match is the most important thing in the world.”
A few random quotes from the books:
As a rule, you see, I'm not lugged into Family Rows. On the occasions when Aunt is calling Aunt like mastodons bellowing across primeval swamps and Uncle James's letter about Cousin Mabel's peculiar behaviour is being shot round the family circle ('Please read this carefully and send it on Jane') the clan has a tendency to ignore me. It's one of the advantages I get from being a bachelor - and, according to my nearest and dearest, practically a half-witted bachelor at that.
It was my Uncle George who discovered that alcohol was a food well in advance of modern medical thought.
I turned to Aunt Agatha, whose demeanour was now rather like that of one who, picking daisies on the railway, has just caught the down express in the small of the back.
Jeeves lugged my purple socks out of the drawer as if he were a vegetarian fishing a caterpillar out of his salad.
I once got engaged to his daughter Honoria, a ghastly dynamic exhibit who read Nietzsche and had a laugh like waves breaking on a stern and rockbound coast.
Anybody can talk me round. If I were in a Trappist monastery, the first thing that would happen would be that some smooth performer would lure me into some frightful idiocy against my better judgment by means of the deaf-and-dumb language.
When you're down and out and suffering tragedy, and find something that integrates the buried but not absent hilarity in the whole proposition of having feelings in a life you know is doomed in any case, you've entered the realm of 'tragi-comedy' and are about as bulletproof as a person will ever be.
I've tried, but I've never been very successful at connecting with Wodehouse. I can agree on the style, the lightness, the this and that, but it doesn't work for me. But I like Connie Willis, a Wodehousian writer of science fiction and fantasy. A good example of her work in that vein would be To Say Nothing of the Dog.
I devoured his books about 30 years ago. I was stationed at Pensacola Naval Base and their tiny library, for some reason, was chock-a-block with Plum (P.G Wodehouse).
I later enjoyed his golf stories although I never played golf, much less knew the difference between a 'nibblick' and a 'mashie.'
He did tend to repeat himself, re-using phrases such as 'so crooked he could hide behind a spiral staircase' but you only noticed that after many books (and he only repeated the good lines).
He was, I think, a somewhat naive man in some ways (much like Berty). He read his books on the radio for the Nazis while interned in France during WWII but was never charged for collaborating with the enemy. It was felt, apparently, that he just didn't understand that he was doing anything wrong.
All in all, perhaps not a great man but certainly a great talent. The comic apologist for a world already dying as he wrote about it. His view of the minor nobility and the middle class of England was both affectionate and tinged with a little sarcasm, but it is always funny. I suppose you only laugh with those you love.
My very favorite guilty pleasure, with only Patrick O'Brien as competition. My favorite stories are the Emsworth stories, though Bertie and Jeeves are read again and again. Everything is good, from the Oldest Member stories to his earlier, less polished writing. I love Wodehouse.