Review of The Small Bachelor by P.G. Wodehouse

In the past, I have attempted reading Wodehouse novels and just been a bit bored by the antics of Jeeves and co. I picked up The Small Bachelor recently because I felt like something light, thinking I would give Wodehouse another go. I am so glad I did. This novel is pure delight. I think maybe my problem with Wodehouse is limited to the Jeeves novels; there are literally dozens of others.

The Small Bachelor is set in New York during prohibition and centers around a rooftop apartment in the cities bohemian quarter and its occupants' forays in love.  With names like George Finch, a quiet little man with a private income attempting life as a painter,  and the resplendent J. Hamilton Beamish, expert on all things and publisher of instructive pamphlets, I knew from the first pages that this was going to be brilliant. And it really is!

Diminutive George is speechless with admiration for young Molly Waddington, who after more or less stalking her for a time, finds himself spontaneously invited to dinner by Molly's father, after he finds George skulking outside their house one evening.  Molly's stepmother, the second Mrs Waddington is furious with this intrusion to her grand dinner with New York's industrialist elite, but Mr Waddington is delighted by the newcomer, and quite a stand-off ensues.

Later, George turns to his most esteemed friend and neighbour, Hamilton Beamish for advice in this courting game. Hamilton Beamish and the Waddingtons are perhaps the most beautifully drawn characters you could hope to read on a page.

This book left me constantly smiling and even laughing as I read. Wodehouse is so clever with his language and the plot moves along swiftly. There are some magical farcical moments and unexpected turns. One of the joys I think with this novel is just how many characters Wodehouse managers to cram into the mayhem. I know I keep using the word, but the book is just thoroughly delightful. Hilarity on the page is very hard to do isn't it? There are so few genuinely funny novels. For me this will be the benchmark. I look forward to reading some of the other stand alone Wodehouse novels, and may even have to revisit Jeeves.

Have you a favourite Wodehouse novel?

How I Became a Famous Novelist by Steve Hely

It is good to be back blogging after being offline for a few weeks. I have really missed it. How I Became A Famous Novelist is one of the few novels I have read during that time.  It is a bit of fun.

Pete Tarslaw, who spins this tale, is not an exemplary human being.  He is lazy and cynical, though intelligent and reasonably well read.  After his ex-girlfriend invites him to her wedding in twelve months time, he decides that the only way to save his pride, is to become a famous literary novelist, so he can outshine all present, and humiliate her.

Nothing, and no one, associated with the publishing world are spared from Steve Hely's barbs in this book.  Including you and I!  Hely not only portrays writers, especially those of so called literary fiction, as charlatans, but he mocks consumers of all things literary (books, book signings and writers' festivals) mercilessly. 

The miracle of this book is that I didn't take it personally.  In fact, I found myself laughing out loud at times.  Which of us hasn't read some entirely overblown, though much lauded, work of literary fiction, and wondered is it me, or is this just too over the top?

Part of the fun of the novel is identifying which novels and novelists Hely is sending up, as he does not refer to them by name of course.  Our would be novelist, Pete Tarslaw, makes a study of the best sellers list and concludes, without too much effort, what is "in" an what is not.  He throws together a novel composed of the common themes and scenarios, without any heart, devotion to the truth, or noble intention, and comes up with his very own best selling novel.  But he pays a price.  Which is why I probably didn't mind that he mocked my penchant for reading WWII novels and plenty else besides.

How I Became a Famous Novelist is not the sort of novel I am going to remember much about in twelve months time.  But it is refreshing and biting and ultimately (though not till the very end) affirms why so many of us, love fiction, so very much.