The Code of the Woosters [Anglais] [Broché]

Do not fret. Within a few pages both the initiate and the expert will be won over. This is a superb book in the Wooster-Jeeves series, full of Wooster's malapropisms, preposterous schemes, boggled literary quotes ("the snail was on the wing and the lark on the thorn--or rather, the other way around . . . ") and memories of hi-jinks at Eton and the Drones' club. Then there is Jeeves, the gentleman's gentleman, aware of his subordinate position to Wooster, but--as admitted by all-- possessing a greater knowledge of "the psychology of the individual." Consider the following exchange between Bertie and the ever-troubled Augustus "Gussie" Fink-Nottle: "this is frightful, Bertie." "Not too good, no." "I'm in the soup." "Up to the thorax." "What's to be done?" "I don't know." "Can't you think of anything?" " Nothing. We must put out trust in a higher power." "Consult Jeeves, you mean?"

The book's events appear to take place soon after those described in "Right Ho, Jeeves," and before "Joy in the Morning." As mentioned above, one is easily drawn into the humorous misadventures of our protagonists and their screwball plotting against Gussie's fiancé's father and his neo-Fascist friend, Spode, modeled after England's Sir Oswald Mosley. Written in 1938, even the humorous hand of Wodehouse touches on the threat of the fascist "black shorts" (the shirts, apparently, had already been taken).

Lighthearted fare, but perfectly crafted by a master of modern farce. This book is simply a delight, a compote of impossibly funny personalities sweetened with a meringue of wit and satire. P.G. Wodehouse, along with those other two-initialed humorists of the early to mid-20th century (E.B. White, S.J. Perelman, A.J. Leibling) is one of our most treasured writers. Give "The Code of the Woosters" a try; I think you'll soon join his legion of fans. Most highly recommended!

On one level, the story is classic bedroom farce. The action takes place in a country house, where people are constantly running from one room to another. Everytime one door opens, a new misunderstanding occurs and the plot is violently thrown in another direction. It makes one realize how effective a well-constructed bedroom farce can be in delivering sparkling comedy.

On top of the farcical elements, Wodehouse also manages to throw in some biting satire. There are well placed but subtle jabs at fascism, fashionable psychology, and upper class morality. They never trip up the story, only serving as wonderful little digressions that do much to add weight to the lighter elements.

The book is populated by a wonderfully motley crew of snooty misfits, each doing their bit to stoke the fires of the story. But the cake is taken by Jeeves and Wooster themselves. Neither could exist without the other (at least in a literary sense). The first fifty or so pages prove this, as Wooster heads up to the country house ahead of his manservant. The character flounders during these sections. Only when Jeeves arrives (to save the day, natch) does the narrative gain an even greater head of steam. I can't imagine how tedious it would be to listen to Bertie Wooster's mindless meanderings for a whole book, without the simple and economic replies of his man Jeeves. They are the pins in the balloons that release Bertie's hot air. As I said before, this is my first foray into Jeeves and Wooster country, so I can't say if the other tales in the series live up to the standard set here. It would seem like an impossible task.

The brilliance of the Jeeves/Wooster dichotomy is that Wodehouse doesn't take the easy route; that is, telling the story through Jeeves narration. It would be too easy to allow us into Jeeves brain, where we would either be confronted by his undying loyalty (which the reader could never understand, given the ignorance of his charge) or his hatred for Bertie (which would undermine the whole tale). Rather, we get Bertie's side of things, and his ambiguous depiction of his man makes Jeeves that much more intriguing a character. And furthermore, it allows Bertie to be a very interesting "unreliable narrator". We cannot trust -- but can laugh at -- his recollections of past events (the book is told entirely through recollections), or his characterization of hisself (in which he tries to pass himself off as an intellectual, rather than a pompous boob). The "unreliable narrator" is my favourite of the current post-modern literary fads, one which Wodehouse gleefully saunters through a half century before its time (side note: for a fine example of a case where the modest butler also serves as the "unreliable narrator", see Kazuo Ishiguro's book "The Remains of the Day", a personal favourite of mine).

One cautionary note, though: in this edition, don't read the introduction first. Alexander Cockburn can't help but give away some key plot points in the examples he provides of Wodehouse's comedic prose. It is a finely written essay, but it belongs at the end rather than the beginning, so to not spoil the reader's fun of discovery. Other than that mild criticism, this is a perfect piece of comedy.