And all I can say about them is this: Why the heck did I never read these before?
All of that reading I used to do, classics and the what-not, and I never could pick up a single one of these? I even read The Pickwick Papers, Tom Jones, and I tried to read Sam Johnson's autobiography. Why not these?
The Jeeves books are collections of short tales of Bertie Wooster and his invaluable gentleman's personal gentleman (as Jeeves prefers to identify himself.) In each so far, someone gets in a pickle--either Bertie, his friends Bingo, Tuppy, or other people including his overbearing aunt Agatha and uppity Aunt Dahlia. Bertie comes up with a brilliant plan which almost invariably fails, and Jeeves saves the day. Very Good, Jeeves!
Add on top of that the writing, like creamy, thick cake icing:
- "This club," I said, "is the limit."
"It is the eel's eyebrows," agreed young Bingo. "I believe that old boy over by the window has been dead three days, but I don't like to mention it to anyone."
- "What do ties matter, Jeeves, at a time like this? Do you realize that Mr. Little's domestic happiness is hanging in the scale?"
"There is no time, sir, at which ties do not matter."
- ...and a most unpleasant feeling it was -- rather like when you take one of those express elevators in New York at the top of the building and discover, on reaching the twenty-seventh floor, that you have carelessly left all your insides up on the thirty-second, and it's too late now to stop and fetch them back.
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