Serving you today a portion of absolute immaculate britishness, because who doesn’t need that in their life?
Carry On, Jeeves by P.G. Wodehouse is one out of the endless succession of Jeeves novels by the innately witty man that Wodehouse inevitably must have been.
It’s a collection of humorous short stories, all of them consisting of the same basic plot device: Bertram “Bertie” Wooster getting himself massively into trouble by being a careless young man of a lot of money and very little wit and his imperturbable valet Jeeves coming up with a brilliant, albeit slightly absurd, scheme to get out of the situation as elegantly as might prove possible.
Now imagine this setting of absurdity and wit with the most british language you’ll ever see written and set it in the early 20th century for some comfortable backdrop, subtract all problems of class and social situation because that’s of no consequence in the circles we’re moving in for the duration of this book, and you might be able to begin imagining what this book is like.
It’s wonderfully funny and witty, shutting out all the big troubles to concentrate on almost mundane everyday situations that always escalate into absolute hilarity not last because of the main character’s careless conduct, and so essentially british that I have to mention its britishness again.
While I wanted to absolutely adore this, I only found it a funny, sweet read that didn’t really incline me to read on, but still charmed with its style and humour in a way that makes me want to read some more Wodehouse the next time life seems dull and annoying. I just might make it one of his novellas that time, for really I couldn’t love this collection as much as I desperately wanted to.