In one of the Wodehouse books I’ve read, I think it was Summer Lightning, Wodehouse acknowledged one of his criticism that he rehashes the same plots over and over with different names for characters of the same caricature. After the my fourth Wodehouse book, I felt that the criticism is justified.
I laughed out loud the first time I read Wodehouse, and craved for more. But the first book was like your first beer on a Friday after work, pretty bloody refreshing. The second isn’t as good as the first but still good. The third was alright. The fourth you do it because the beer’s right in front of you without you realising that you’ve ordered it. The difference between drinking and reading Wodehouse is that I was drunk on the first book, but slowly sobering with every subsequent read.
In all honesty, I find Bertie Wooster pathetic and Jeeves a schmuck. I find Jeeves’ staunch obsession over Bernie’s sense of fashion superficial. Some of the cover portraying Jeeves as a close-eyed, well groomed butler almost reminds me that he can be like Hannibal Lecter a la Anthony Hopkins. The stories and resolutions are too convenient, and I see the book no longer through beer goggles of my first drink.
