Remember the first review-ish thingummy I wrote? It was on a tome written by Wodehouse (As in "rhymes with woodlouse.") I love Wodehouse.
We, all those desiring to be learned people, should probably be reading Euclid, or The Great Dialogues of Plato, or even The Red Pony. But I love Wodehouse.
Or I could be improving my mind on The Norton Anthology of English Literature, or the Oxford Book of Essays or Grun's Timetables of History. But I just love Wodehouse.
And I consider it my solemn duty to make you love Wodehouse too.
Something Fishy is about a bunch of multi-millionaires who create a tontine for their sons just before the 1929 crash. But it differs from usual tontines in that the money goes to whichever son marries last, not dies last.
Listen to this quote:
"Uncle George," she said, and musical though her voice was, Lord Uffenham did not like it. "Was it you who painted that moustache on Stanhope's statue?"
It was most fortunate that she should have worded her enquiry thus, for it enabled Lord Uffenham to deny the accusation with a clear conscience. What he had painted on Stanhope Twine's statue, it will be recalled, was a small imperial beard.
Does that not intrigue and rouse the excitement of your very soul? Doesn't it call you to race to the nearest library and clamor for the closest Wodehouse?
The negative aspects of this otherwise marvelous book is that there is some scarce language.
Go out and read it! However, you mustn't start it in the evening, but rather in the morning, for you shan't find yourself capable of putting it down.