It's not Bertie Wooster and Jeeves. But it is pure Wodehouse. His star is a fast-thinking know-it-all who titles himself Psmith--the P is silent--and his costar is plain, unimaginative cricket-loving Mike Jackson who's just been removed from Cambridge and sent to exile at a rather boring bank. Psmith follows him there and takes him on a merry ride around and over the stolid bank administrators, culminating in a county cricket match and oops--
I almost gave away the ending. But you'll guess it. Not to say that anything at all in this books is predictable. Not as funny as the Jeeves series, but bone-cracking.
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