Right Ho, Jeeves by P. G. Wodehouse

I think I must have missed the joke somewhere.

I appreciate P. G. Wodehouse’s technical skill in Right Ho, Jeeves – the plotting is intricate, the who’s-on-first dialogue is witty, and Bertie Wooster’s point of view is a good case study in the unreliable narrator. But it just wasn’t my bag.

I think the problem was Bertie Wooster. He’s an upper-class twit with no reason to be alive. No job, no need of one, no family who needs him, not even any hobbies. His motive in Right Ho is to preserve the status quo. If Wooster doesn’t have any purpose in life, why should I care what happens to him?

Which leaves me baffled why Jeeves works for him. The man could get any position at MIT he wanted, so why does he work as a servant? If he’s gay, he has terrible taste. Is manipulating the British aristocracy his hobby? Damned waste of his talents. Is he a spy? My favorite explanation is that, like Steerpike, he’s planning the downfall of every aristocrat around him. That thought made Right Ho, Jeeves a much more enjoyable read.

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