P.J.’s Comments (group member since Aug 07, 2020)

P.J.’s comments from the Wodehouse cracks me up group.

John wrote: "I was a little apprehensive about this. Wasn't sure that anyone would be able to match PG Wodehouse, but I was pleasantly surprised, as it was written in the exact same style..."
This was almost exactly my view as well, John, although I would say that I was less ‘apprehensive’ and more ‘determined to hate it’ and yet, somehow, here we both are.
I didn’t want Bertie to cross that Rubicon either, particularly in view of the degree to which his horror of the prospect drove so many — if not all — of the original plots. But I had to admit in the end that it was deftly and respectfully and, of course, hilariously handled.

Elisabeth wrote: "Tania wrote: "Elisabeth wrote: "I never could bring myself to read any Jeeves books not written by Wodehouse! :)"

Neither could I Elizabeth, but I have found the original books a perfect antidote ..."

I fully understand but note that Sebastian Faulks' Jeeves and the Wedding Bells is a warm, happy, hilarious close to second to the real thing. And I wasn't expecting to like it (I might even have been determined not to) and yet, I really did.

Ben Schott, however, is not a close second nor a distant third. I read Jeeves and the King of Clubs, in fact, because of Jeeves and the Wedding Bells. I read the second installment, Jeeves and the Leap of Faith, because I had read the first, and now I'm trapped in a quality dive that I can only hope stops at a trilogy.

For those interested, here are my reviews of The King of Clubs and Leap of Faith.

Whitney wrote: "A couple generations have gotten hold of Jeeves & Wooster since Wodehouse stopped writing about them. I dunno if fanfic culture is activating novels like these. But regardless it’s satisfying to se..."

I wholly agree. I have no objection to Faulks giving satisfaction where Wodehouse elected not to, nor even to Schott parachuting Jeeves & Wooster behind enemy lines, but The Wedding Bells felt like a daring yet legitimate venture into new territory, while The King of Clubs reads like a reboot.

It’s my view that Mister Schott does a jolly good impression of the Wodehouse prose style, but the story is, charitably, a hotch-potch, and these Jeeves and Wooster fellows are strangers to me. Bertie, in particular, if it’s meant to be the same chap, has experienced an intellectual renaissance. The loveable, affable, dependent and dependable Wooster is, in this book, a sort of cross between Noel Coward and, I suppose, Jeeves.