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isfjmel-phleg · 7 months

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Why I like it: Leave It to Psmith

I've analyzed this book to death. I don't even know what to say about it anymore.

It's probably the most familiar of the series. It has had the most adaptations--multiple theatrical versions and radio adaptations, a mysterious Hungarian film, an early 1930s film that removed Psmith and replaced him with one Sebastian Help, an Indian series in which Psmith is called...Rambo? (seeing a theme here--adapters seem to be afraid of Psmith himself). It crosses over with the Blandings series, which was then just getting started. It's easy to read without having read the earlier installments, for readers who are more reluctant to take on all the cricket etc. of those books.

Wodehouse intended it that way. Leave It to Psmith was written for a different audience than the other Psmith books. Instead of British schoolboys, his readership was now adult Americans who wouldn't have known Psmith at all since the earlier books hadn't been published in the US then. They didn't care about cricket; they were looking for the kind of plot that Wodehouse is more often associated with today. Hilarious, intricate shenanigans with some light romance. And the ever versatile Psmith fits into this new genre perfectly. Perhaps that's where he belonged all along.

Leave It to Psmith is one of the finest examples of Wodehouse's best style. There are different views on this, but I personally consider his work from approximately the early 1920s through the 1930s to be the height of his talent (he had finally fully found his voice, and the stories are still new enough to avoid the more overtly formulaic feel of his later books). And Leave It to Psmith is one of the books that kicked off that era of his writing. It's got everything. A witty and distinctive prose style that complements the theatrically-influenced story and characters. A memorable cast. A bizarre and silly but ultimately sweet central romance. A shocking newspaper ad. Flowerpot throwing. Jewel heists. Gun fights. An obnoxiously large chrysanthemum. Umbrella theft. A very elegant hat. Extremely strong opinions on hollyhocks. Mistaken identity. Imposters. The worst poetry ever. The motivating power of friendship. A dead bat that apparently was somebody's mother. It's not going to remembered as a Deep Philosophical Novel ever, but that's not what we need from it. It's just fun and joyful and a delight to read.

Even though this is the one book of the series that opens with Psmith in a genuinely difficult situation and relatively low frame of mind following his father's death and the loss of the family fortunes. Psmith has skated by on his father's money for the entire series up to this point, so taking away that kind of invincibility from him was a genius choice on Wodehouse's part. It forces Psmith to grow even further in a way that he never has before. We see him at his most vulnerable; the narrative gives us more of his POV than ever, and there's a marked contrast between what goes on in his head and how he presents himself. And it's at this point that he's finally in a position for something that's never been an option to him before: a romance.

Psmith and Eve's love story would probably not work in real life. But they're in Wodehouse-land, where realism isn't the point. The point is that they are two people who complement each other well and enrich each other's lives and need each other. They're both clever and dynamic and adventurous and alone in the world. She appreciates his eccentricities, which provide the excitement she craves. He appreciates her listening skills and sympathetic nature. She's warm-hearted and impulsive; he's a calculating thinker--and they balance each other out. Each has a brand of weird that works well with the other's. It takes them a little while to get matters resolved, but Eve doesn't put up with his nonsense, and he gradually develops the emotional maturity to trust rather than manipulate. When they do get together, it's not because he's done his usual fast-talking. It's a mutual choice.

We don't get to see much of Mike and Phyllis, but it's also clear that they're happy, and it's satisfying to see that Wodehouse gave Mike, the original protagonist of the series, the ending he deserves even if he is no longer in focus and the American audience wouldn't know or care about him from previous appearances. But Psmith cares about Mike a lot. That hasn't changed, and the lengths that Psmith is willing to go to for Mike's sake are endearing. The choice to give Eve a parallel role as best friend to Mike's wife reinforces the significance of this devotion. This entire plot happens because people care very much about Mike and Phyllis Jackson. That's pretty powerful.

This is the end of the series. We never see Psmith again. But it's an ending that leaves the reader satisfied. Psmith is not trapped in an endless loop of growthless status quo for our comedic benefit. We've watched him grow up from the worldweary teenager leaning on the mantelpiece at his detested new school to a joyfully singing young man running through Blandings Castle on his way to meet the woman whom he's about to have a future of adventures alongside. In many ways, he's still his old eccentric self, but his outlook has changed for the better. He's simply, genuinely happy. What more could we wish for him? What more could we hope for ourselves?

#Psmith Pseptember #thanks for waiting for this one #it has been A Week

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fictionadventurer · 2 years

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Leave It To Psmith: Chapter 1 Thoughts

How come Baxter gets a room behind a secret bookcase door? I want a room behind a secret bookcase door. My life is a vale of endless miseries.

Have we considered the possibility of Lord Emsworth having early-onset dementia? I know it's mostly just absent-mindedness, because he is able to remember when prodded, but there are some eerily similar symptoms.

Baxter is of swarthy complexion? I always imagined him as the pastiest white guy ever to spring from the British Isles.

The first scene reads like a play. The main characters all coming one by one onto the same set. The dialogue laying out all the "Don't you remember?" explanations of what's going on and who Alice Peavey is and such. You can tell Wodehouse had experience with the stage.

Lord Emsworth is a good scene-transitioning device. Need to wrap up a scene? Have him wander into the room. He's an excellent way to derail any conversation.

It's nice that Joe and Constance actually do love each other. But all this trouble that comes with shared bank accounts--the spouse controlling the money, putting aside a secret fund for a rainy day--does put one in mind of abusive relationships. Not that they're abusive. But if they actually do love each other, I'd love to see more on-page examples of it.

Connie's just mean to Phyllis because Phyllis thwarted her plan. The woman is such a control freak.

Even before the scene ends, it's funny how many times Freddy's plan changes. First Joe steals the necklace, based on the idea that he can't get arrested for it. Then Freddy agrees to steal it, even though the entire plan was based around the benefits of Joe being the one to take it. Then Freddy wants to pass it off to someone else. Very rapid-fire.

Psmith's ad is even more striking when you think about the context. Here's a beloved character whose last appeared in a book written years ago. The book has his name on the cover, but we start out with all these unrelated people. Then, in the middle of the scene, Random Character reads a newspaper and suddenly you're struck in the face with LEAVE IT TO PSMITH. We know that guy! He's back! What's he up to now? Let's find out!

#leave it to psmith group read #p.g. wodehouse #leave it to psmith #unfortunately i'm not going to be able to fit in chapter 2 tonight #but i wanted to get to this one at least on the right day

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andswarwrites · 1 year

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Day 8

I was homeschooled for all of primary school, then I experienced three years of high school, and completed the next two years at home again. N- experienced primary school for nearly four years, but in grade four the pandemic transformed our lives. The school was closed for what was supposed to be a week, and our apartment had to be sprayed for an infestation. S- and I discussed our action plan, and we decided to ask my parents if N- could go stay with them for the week of no school, and we would be able to focus on getting rid of the pests.

We drove to the New Brunswick border and so did my parents. We met there, hugged, and parted. We thought we were going to meet up again shortly, but then the borders were closed, and isolation became a necessity. Although S- and I missed N-, we were happy she was in New Brunswick, where there was less risk. Our new reality was curfew, isolation, long lines two meters apart at stores, disinfecting everything, washing our hands for a minimum of twenty seconds, and then masks. Thankfully we had regular contact with our community and friends and family with Zoom.

N- completed the fourth grade during the pandemic, and over the summer restrictions were lifted enough that S- and I were able to visit my mom and dad, and afterward N- came home with us. N- had done so well with the one on one structure of being taught by her grandparents, when Autumn rolled around, S- and I decided to keep her at home and I would be her primary teacher. My mother teaches her twice a week over Zoom; piano class and French class. I teach French the other four days of the week, but Monday I get a little break.

Now N- doubled up one year, and completed Grades 5 and 6, so she's a year ahead. Currently we are doing Grade 8 (also known as Secondary 2 in Quebec), and N- is crushing it. We start at 8:30 AM, with fifteen minutes of piano practice. Next, we have Math, then French, then recess, then English, followed by Geography, Science and History. And on Tuesdays and Thursdays we have an abbreviated morning that ends at 10:15 AM, so we can walk over to an indoor pool and swim for an hour. That counts as Gym.

The subjects only last between twenty and thirty minutes right now, with homework in the afternoon, so on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, N-'s school "day" ends at 11:30 AM. And Friday, she gets to watch videos for her last three subjects, culminating in "Tasting History" by Max Miller. For Grade 9 I plan to extend her subjects to 45 minutes for core subjects, and thirty minutes for the others. For English this year, I've decided to put grammar on hold. Her grammar and vocabulary are excellent. This year, we're focusing on reading and writing.

We began the reading in the summer with the first installment of "The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants" (by Ann Brashares). I plan to read the second book with her this coming summer. We also read "No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency" (by Alexander McCall Smith), "Much Ado About Nothing" (by William Shakespeare) , "Leave it to Psmith" (by P.G. Wodehouse) and we are currently reading "The Murder of Roger Ackroyd" (by Agatha Christie). At the end of the year I plan to have her write a report about all the books she read and the impression that they made on her.

N- has an incredible imagination. At least once or twice a week I encourage her to work on her stories. She has a tendency to write for ten minutes, and then spend the rest of her time on character design, but I realize that everyone has their own process. I worry that I'm letting her stay in her comfort zone a little too much. When you only have one student, and she is your daughter, and she is gifted, and you don't naturally do confrontation, you may have a tendency to "allow" a lot.

And yet I do provide structure and support. Every Friday, we have a special French class, which I prepare every week: we log onto Zoom with a family in New Brunswick, and we examine and translate the lyrics to a French song, and then we watch the music video together. We’ve seen three by Bleu Jeans Bleu, one by Kain, one by Mes Aieux, one by Daniel Belanger, one by Arianne Moffat, the classic "Un Elephant Sur Mon Balcon" by Roger Whittaker, and of course "Aux Champs Elysée" by Joe Dassin.

I've rambled about this class and that, this detail and that, but I'm getting close to the end of today's entry, and I have to wrap it up, or at least start to. Do I love homeschooling? Definitively, yes. Is it challenging? Also, yes. If I call in sick, my daughter has to miss school that day. Thankfully, there is a lot of flexibility with ped days, you can basically decide at random when your child gets them. Naira only has three more years of public school. Then I can hand her off to online school or college, whatever she chooses.

Three more years. I can handle it. Honestly, though, being both her mother and her teacher makes our relationship that much closer, so when she finishes up her schooling with me, how am I going to react? I am going to need to fill a void. I have a few ideas. Of course I do, because I plan ahead on a pathological level. If the pandemic had never happened, would my daughter still be in public school? I have no way of knowing. I simply cannot imagine any other scenario than teaching her one on one, this way. N-, I didn’t believe I could be a teacher. You have proved me wrong.

#teaching #homeschool #personal

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allieinarden · 5 years

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For the Psmith asks: ALL OF THEM (if you want)

Dang it Rebekah you already know all my answers to these.

Favorite Psmith momentHis encounter with the only adversary he never defeated, a yo-yo.

Favorite Mike momentI love when he and Psmith are on the tram and Psmith is just complaining and complaining about being seen on a tram and Mike is like “why don’t you just get off”

Favorite thing about Psmith His whole speech pattern, obviously. I’m also just a huge sucker for the thing where a character comes off as kind of cold to everyone but then is deeply devoted to someone highly overlookable, okay. Love that.

Favorite thing about MikeI love how Wodehouse uses him to explore social anxiety, particularly the frustrating gap between what you want to display and how you come off. It’s very poignant, personal stuff giving ballast to a strange comedy novel and it’s why I miss Mike’s presence later on.

Favorite secondary characterMr. Smith

Favorite minor characterI’ll go to my grave mad about the lack of Marjory Jackson.

Favorite Mike and Psmith momentIt’s really, really hard to get back to Cricket Story Business as Usual after the increasingly bizarre aftermath of Grand Theft Spiller’s Study.

Favorite Psmith in the City momentI always get a kick out of the Clapham Common riot.

Favorite Psmith, Journalist momentThe “Cosy Moments cannot be muzzled” monologue is a masterpiece.

Favorite Leave It to Psmith momentI’m unwilling to nail down a favorite because something else will probably come to me later but I’m really just constantly laughing at the part where Eve finds out that Psmith was never Ralston McTodd and he immediately pitches a romance to her like, “look, literally the only thing wrong with me is that I’m not Ralston McTodd. Lots of people aren’t Ralston McTodd”

Favorite antagonistBickersdyke is Psmith’s natural enemy in the wild. I like Downing a lot too, he’s got Bickersdykian worthy-opponentness but he’s kind of a mensch.

A favorite line“Never confuse the unusual and the impossible.”

Favorite book in the seriesI have a major soft spot for Psmith in the City.

Least favorite book in the seriesPsmith, Journalist is such an experiment and it’s great because you get stuff you don’t really see in other Wodehouse books, but at the same time I feel that Wodehouse didn’t have as deep of a sense of what he was doing in that book. I would have loved to see him revisit the theme and I really wish he hadn’t completely lost interest in doing anything similar.

Any extra scenes you wish the books had included?I wanted to see what Psmith got up to at Cambridge. I think Wodehouse never having been there just didn’t know how to write it.

Is there anything you’d change about any of the books?You can’t just throw me a premise like “Psmith at a poetry reading about to read a poem he only pretended he wrote” and then INTERRUPT IT.

Any headcanons about the events/characters in the books?Too many.

Any headcanons about what happens after the end of the series?I refuse to believe that Psmith and Eve didn’t at some point go on a nice vacation somewhere and get involved in an Agatha Christie-style country house murder mystery.

Any ideas of what a [insert suggestion here] AU would look like?You must be new here.

A favorite moment of character development?Psmith stuff aside, I really love the moment between Mike and his dad near the beginning of City where Mike goes from a dumb kid who wants to play cricket to someone ready to put his own desires aside and support his family.

An underrated/easily overlooked moment/scene?Ah, I always thought the scene in M&P where Psmith pretty much tells Mike that he needs an audience to live (“Don’t interrupt too much”) was sweet. I like how Mike’s non-answer is actually an answer—no smile, no reaction of any kind other than to tilt his hat over his eyes and listen. It’s just one of those moments that illuminates a dynamic for a second and it makes you understand why Psmith is fond of the guy.

What do you like best about the Psmith series?It’s weird to use the phrase “down to earth” in any Psmith-related capacity, but here I go—it’s a low-key world in which Psmith is the only weird element, vs. Wodehouse’s later books where everything and everyone was weird. Blandings Castle is always sunny but Psmith’s world has bad weather and boring office environments. I’m most drawn to this series when the world in which I find myself is at its most prosaic, because Wodehouse finds the potential for something else in those settings, whether it’s the hilarity of the boundaries being thrown into chaos by one person who won’t respect them or just a brief moment of comfort before you head back to the cubicle. It’s a series that understands that tea is better when you have it sitting on the floor because you haven’t unpacked your stuff and you’re scooping the tea leaves up with a postcard because you can’t find any spoons, and that there’s no situation that can’t be slightly improved by just sitting on the furniture a little wrong.

Talk about anything you want related to the seriesLike I said, it’s hard to go back to normal school stuff after the aftermath of the study theft because when Psmith threw that guy out the window you KNEW all bets were off.

#pseptember #Psmith Pseptember #Psmith #asks #long post #books #P.G. Wodehouse #Rupert Psmith

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wikiwalking · 7 years

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“Wodehouse saved my life”

The Daily Telegraph, 27 May 1999.

With today's reissue of P. G. Wodehouse's books, Hugh Laurie tells how the comic genius made him clean up his 'squalid' existence

To be able to write about P. G. Wodehouse is the sort of honour that comes rarely in any man's life, let alone mine. This is rarity of a rare order. Halley's comet seems like a blasted nuisance in comparison.

If you'd knocked on my head 20 years ago and told me that a time would come when I, Hugh Laurie - scraper-through of O-levels, mover of lips (own) while reading, loafer, scrounger, pettifogger and general berk of this parish - would be able to carve my initials in the broad bark of the Master's oak, I'm pretty certain that I would have said "garn", or something like it.

I was, in truth, a horrible child. Not much given to things of a bookery nature, I spent a large part of my youth smoking Number Six and cheating in French vocabulary tests. I wore platform boots with a brass skull and crossbones over the ankle, my hair was disgraceful, and I somehow contrived to pull off the gruesome trick of being both fat and thin at the same time. If you had passed me in the street during those pimply years, I am confident that you would, at the very least, have quickened your pace.

You think I exaggerate? I do not. Glancing over my school reports from the year 1972, I observe that the words "ghastly" and "desperate" feature strongly, while "no", "not", "never" and "again" also crop up more often than one would expect in a random sample. My history teacher's report actually took the form of a postcard from Vancouver.

But this, you will be nauseated to learn, is a tale of redemption. In about my 13th year, it so happened that a copy of Galahad at Blandings by P. G. Wodehouse entered my squalid universe, and things quickly began to change. From the very first sentence of my very first Wodehouse story, life appeared to grow somehow larger. There had always been height, depth, width and time, and in these prosaic dimensions I had hitherto snarled, cursed, and not washed my hair. But now, suddenly, there was Wodehouse, and the discovery seemed to make me gentler every day. By the middle of the fifth chapter I was able to use a knife and fork, and I like to think that I have made reasonable strides since.

I spent the following couple of years meandering happily back and forth through Blandings Castle and its environs - learning how often the trains ran, at what times the post was collected, how one could tell if the Empress was off-colour, why the Emsworth Arms was preferable to the Blue Boar - until the time came for me to roll up the map of adolescence and set forth into my first Jeeves novel. It was The Code of the Woosters, and things, as they used to say, would never be the same again.

The facts in this case, ladies and gentlemen, are simple. The first thing you should know, and probably the last, too, is that P. G. Wodehouse is still the funniest writer ever to have put words on paper. Fact number two: with the Jeeves stories, Wodehouse created the best of the best. I speak as one whose first love was Blandings, and who later took immense pleasure from Psmith, but Jeeves is the jewel, and anyone who tries to tell you different can be shown the door, the mini-cab, the train station, and Terminal 4 at Heathrow with a clear conscience. The world of Jeeves is complete and integral, every bit as structured, layered, ordered, complex and self-contained as King Lear, and considerably funnier.

Now let the pages of the calendar tumble as autumn leaves, until 10 years are understood to have passed. A man came to us - to me and to my comedy partner, Stephen Fry - with a proposition. He asked me if I would like to play Bertram W. Wooster in 23 hours of televised drama, opposite the internationally tall Fry in the role of Jeeves.

"Fiddle," one of us said. I forget which.

"Sticks," said the other. "Wodehouse on television? It's lunacy. A disaster in kit form. Get a grip, man."

The man, a television producer, pressed home his argument with skill and determination.

"All right," he said, shrugging on his coat. "I'll ask someone else."

"Whoa, hold up," said one of us, shooting a startled look at the other.

"Steady," said the other, returning the S. L. with top-spin.

There was a pause.

"You'll never get a cab in this weather," we said, in unison.

And so it was that, a few months later, I found myself slipping into a double-breasted suit in a Prince of Wales check while my colleague made himself at home inside an enormous bowler hat, and the two of us embarked on our separate disciplines. Him for the noiseless opening of decanters, me for the twirling of the whangee.

So the great P. G. was making his presence felt in my life once more. And I soon learnt that I still had much to learn. How to smoke plain cigarettes, how to drive a 1927 Aston Martin, how to mix a Martini with five parts water and one part water (for filming purposes only), how to attach a pair of spats in less than a day and a half, and so on.

But the thing that really worried us, that had us saying "crikey" for weeks on end, was this business of The Words. Let me give you an example. Bertie is leaving in a huff: " 'Tinkerty tonk,' I said, and I meant it to sting." I ask you: how is one to do justice of even the roughest sort to a line like that? How can any human actor, with his clumsily attached ears, and his irritating voice, and his completely misguided hair, hope to deliver a line as pure as that? It cannot be done. You begin with a diamond on the page, and you end up with a blob of Pritt, The Non-Sticky Sticky Stuff, on the screen.

Wodehouse on the page can be taken in the reader's own time; on the screen, the beautiful sentence often seems to whip by, like an attractive member of the opposite sex glimpsed from the back of a cab. You, as the viewer, try desperately to fix the image in your mind - but it is too late, because suddenly you're into a commercial break and someone is telling you how your home may be at risk if you eat the wrong breakast cereal.

Naturally, one hopes there were compensations in watching Wodehouse on the screen - pleasant scenery, amusing clothes, a particular actor's eyebrows - but it can never replicate the experience of reading him. If I may go slightly culinary for a moment: a dish of foie gras nestling on a bed of truffles, with a side-order of lobster and caviar may provide you with a wonderful sensation; but no matter how wonderful, you simply don't want to be spoon-fed the stuff by a perfect stranger. You need to hold the spoon, and decide for yourself when to wolf and when to nibble.

And so I am back to reading, rather than playing Jeeves. And my Wodehousian redemption is, I hope, complete. Indeed, there is nothing left for me to say, except to wish, as I fold away my penknife and gaze up at the huge oak towering overhead, that my history teacher could see me now.

via The Russian Wodehouse Society

#The Russian Wodehouse Society #p. g. wodehouse #hugh laurie #brillo #British Humour #to wit

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come2quarks · 7 years

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Anyway my book order being cancelled is especially frustrating because I'm on absolute edge because I... I make really poor split-second decisions. So I was on the way home and I'd already come across one absurdly drunk guy who was on a bike and rounded a corner too sharply and literally stacked a metre away from me while cussing loudly inbetween wordless verses of some song that I may or may not know (he was Really drunk). And I'd ignored him but it put me on my guard already, I had my first adrenaline rush from when he was riding towards me and cussing and hadn't yet turned (but I assumed he would or he would ride past because he wasn't specifically targeting me), even though that had turned out quite funny. How to make me go into blank retreating panic mode: man yelling. How to make me go into hyper-anxious concerned mode that a) there's a threat and b) I need to do something to help: woman screaming. These aren't unusual responses, they're very sensible ones, but I get them extra bad because of how I was raised, just don't raise your voice at me or in my vicinity ever Please- Anyway, I'm further up the road, it's like a quarter past 11 at night, and this is a Really long and pretty straight road, and this car is coming from the opposite direction, same side of the road as my footpath is, I'm not really paying attention to it because I just want to Get Home Now, I've had enough excitement, and as the car I hadnt really noticed is going past I'm hit with this Awful scream, sounds almost exactly like a terrified woman, so of course, second rush of now very anxious adrenaline because it was a total surprise, I look, I see this drunk as all hell guy in his early 20s hanging out the window and watching and I Know he's the one who screamed and I'm looking at this car speeding off in the other direction on this long road you aren't allowed to do a U-turn on. And my mind is completely blank. I'm not thinking. But I am full of adrenaline and the urge to respond to what just happened. Now, I'm a very small man and a very weak man and a very slow runner and I am carrying a cake carrier and wearing heel inserts and my very distinctive floral-sleeved jacket and I am often mistaken for a woman even in decent lighting, I should have read the number plate and called the police to intercept them once they were out of sight but I didn't. I did nothing of the sort. I stuck my middle finger up at them. Boldly. Calmly. My face blank and thus just as scathingly judgemental as it has ever looked when at rest. Without a trace of hesitation. Like, @ me what the fuck is your problem what is your risk assessment what is this why would you-, Regardless Of My Own Instant Regret, This Happened And This Was A Mistake. They ALL start cussing me out (I think there was three or four in the car??) and returning the gesture and okay fair enough what else could you expect but they're still going the opposite direction and I still have a fair bit to walk until I reach the pitch black narrow semi-hidden laneway that connects this long street with my own long street (which takes much longer to get into by car than on foot from their direction, especially with my house being fairly close to this laneway but not at all close to any car-friendly entrance to the street). I had assumed they would keep going that direction and take it out further by I don't know, getting into a fender-bender with a telephone pole hopefully, would serve them right so long as nobody got hurt and they didn't damage anybody else's private property, but they somehow found a spot to turn around and come back the other way and cuss me out yet again - but of course from the other side of the road this time. They don't slow down, thank goodness, they continue, but it Is a very long and straight road from this point with not many roads to turn into (especially on the side I'm on), and as I was nearing the laneway I could hear the car coming back, this time on my side again, and I can hear distant yelling even though I can't see them yet and I can tell with certainty at that point they will not leave me alone until they can no longer find me, and I legged it up that laneway so fast you have no idea. I don't know if they saw me go up it but once I was through I figured I was through and I could just speedwalk the rest of the way because it would take them at least five minutes to make their way around to my road. I could barely get my key in the door and that was the worst part of it because if they had managed to make their way around then if they had decided to then they would see where I live and then what if they wrecked me AND my belongings I mean bruises heal but the family car doesn't if you smash it up and money has to be spent and they could turn up to do this at any time and long story short they didn't come around but it's now half past midnight and every so often I can still hear a really loud engine going by in the general neighbourhood and I never want to leave my house or see another guy around my age ever again I'm becoming a certified recluse and I Want My JP-Version Psmith Book

#I'm dying #long post #wastrel.txt #BAAAAD DECISIONS IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT DOO DOO DOO DOOT♪#mmmmmuuugggghhhhhhhgggghhhh

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fictionadventurer · 2 years

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The Boots of Buffalo Leather

There are fairy tales that are good for retelling because they have so many vivid images and weird happenings that your imagination can mold into a more coherent story. Others are just good little short stories in their own right, and one of my favorites of that kind is “The Boots of Buffalo Leather” in Grimm’s Fairy Tales.

I just happened to stumble on it one day when flipping through the book, and it became one of my obscure favorites. I suspect it doesn’t come from an oral tradition, because it feels more like a short story set in the Napoleonic Wars than a timeless folk tale, but that’s part of its charm.

The story follows a soldier--jobless after the war ends--who meets a lost huntsman in the woods. These two are like a fairy tale version of Mike and Psmith--the soldier’s the fast-talking trickster and the huntsman’s the baffled everyman who’s dragged along for the ride. I love their dynamic, and that they both get to throw some fun twists into the story.

You can read it here, but since it’s formatted oddly, I also put it in a more readable paragraph form under the break.

The Boots of Buffalo Leather

A soldier who is afraid of nothing, troubles himself about nothing. One of this kind had received his discharge, and as he had learnt no trade and could earn nothing, he traveled about and begged alms of kind people. He had an old raincoat on his back, and a pair of riding-boots of buffalo-leather which were still left to him. One day he was walking he knew not where, straight out into the open country, and at length came to a forest. He did not know where he was, but saw sitting on the trunk of a tree, which had been cut down, a man who was well dressed and wore a green shooting-coat.

The soldier shook hands with him, sat down on the grass by his side, and stretched out his legs. "I see you have good boots on, which are well blacked," said he to the huntsman: "but if you had to travel about as I have, they would not last long. Look at mine, they are of buffalo-leather, and have been worn for a long time, but in them I can go through thick and thin."

After a while the soldier got up and said: "I can stay no longer, hunger drives me onwards; but, Brother Brightboots, where does this road lead to?"

"I don't know that myself," answered the huntsman, "I have lost my way in the forest."

"Then you are in the same plight as I," said the soldier; "birds of a feather flock together, let us remain together, and seek our way."

The huntsman smiled a little, and they walked on further and further, until night fell.

"We do not get out of the forest," said the soldier, "but there in the distance I see a light shining; there we might find something to eat."

They found a stone house, knocked at the door, and an old woman opened it.

"We are looking for quarters for the night," said the soldier, "and some lining for our stomachs, for mine is as empty as an old knapsack."

"You cannot stay here," answered the old woman; "this is a robbers' house, and you would do wisely to get away before they come home, or you will be lost."

"It won't be so bad as that," answered the soldier, "I have not had a mouthful for two days, and whether I am murdered here or die of hunger in the forest is all the same to me. I shall come in."

The huntsman would not follow, but the soldier drew him in with him by the sleeve. "Come, my dear brother, we shall not come to an end so quickly as that!"

The old woman had pity on them and said: "Creep in here behind the stove, and if they leave anything, I will give it to you on the sly when they are asleep."

Scarcely were they in the corner before twelve robbers came bursting in, seated themselves at the table which was already laid, and vehemently demanded some food. The old woman brought in some great dishes of roast meat, and the robbers enjoyed that thoroughly.

When the soldier smelled the food, he said to the huntsman: "I cannot hold out any longer, I shall seat myself at the table, and eat with them."

"You will bring us to destruction," said the huntsman, and held him back by the arm. But the soldier began to cough loudly.

When the robbers heard that, they threw away their knives and forks, leapt up, and discovered the two who were behind the stove. "Aha, gentlemen, are you in the corner?" cried they. "What are you doing here ? Have you been sent as spies? Wait a while, and you shall learn how to fly on a dry bough."

"But do be civil," said the soldier, "I am hungry, give me something to eat, and then you can do what you like with me."

The robbers were astonished, and the captain said: "I see that you have no fear; well, you shall have some food, but after that you must die."

"We shall see," said the soldier, and seated himself at the table, and began to cut away valiantly at the roast meat. "Brother Brightboots, come and eat," cried he to the huntsman; "you must be as hungry as I am, and cannot have better roast meat at home," but the huntsman would not eat.

The robbers looked at the soldier in astonishment, and said: "The rascal uses no ceremony."

After a while he said: "I have had enough food, now get me something good to drink."

The chief of the robbers was in the mood to humor him in this also, and called to the old woman: "Bring a bottle out of the cellar, and mind it be of the best."

The soldier drew the cork out with a loud noise, and then went with the bottle to the huntsman and said: "Watch this, brother, and you shall see something that will surprise you; I am now going to drink the health of the whole clan."

Then he brandished the bottle over the heads of the robbers, and cried: "Long life to you all, but with your mouths open and your right hands lifted up," and then he drank a hearty draught. Scarcely were the words said than they all sat motionless as if made of stone, and their mouths were open and their right hands stretched up in the air.

The huntsman said to the soldier: "I see that you are acquainted with tricks of another kind, but now come and let us go home."

"Oho, my dear brother, but that would be marching away far too soon; we have conquered the enemy, and must first take the booty. Those men there are sitting fast, and are opening their mouths with astonishment, but they will not be allowed to move until I permit them. Come, eat and drink."

The old woman had to bring another bottle of the best wine, and the soldier would not stir until he had eaten enough to last for three days. At last when day came, he said: "Now it is time to strike our tents, and in order that our march may be a short one, the old woman shall show us the nearest way to the town."

When they had arrived there, he went to his old comrades, and said: "Out in the forest I have found a nest full of gallows' birds, come with me and we will take it." The soldier led them, and said to the huntsman: "You must go back again with me to see how they flutter when we seize them by the feet."

He placed the men round about the robbers, and then he took the bottle, drank a mouthful, brandished it above them, and cried: "Long life to you all." Instantly they all regained the power of movement, but were thrown down and bound hand and foot with cords. Then the soldier ordered them to be thrown into a cart as if they had been so many sacks, and said: "Now drive them straight to prison." The huntsman, however, took one of the men aside and gave him another commission as well.

"Brother Brightboots," said the soldier, "we have safely routed the enemy and been well fed, now we will quietly walk behind them as if we were stragglers!"

When they approached the town, the soldier saw a crowd of people pouring through the gate of the town who were raising loud cries of joy, and waving green boughs in the air. Then he saw that the entire body-guard was coming up. "What can this mean?" said he to the huntsman.

"Don't you know," he replied, "that the King has for a long time been absent from his kingdom, and that today he is returning, and every one is going to meet him."

"But where is the King?" said the soldier; "I do not see him."

"Here he is," answered the huntsman, "I am the King, and have announced my arrival." Then he opened his hunting-coat, and his royal garments were visible.

The soldier was alarmed, and fell on his knees and begged him to forgive him for having in his ignorance treated him as an equal, and spoken to him by such a name. But the King shook hands with him, and said: "You are a brave soldier, and have saved my life. You shall never again be in want, I will take care of you. And if ever you would like to eat a piece of roast meat, as good as that in the robber's house, come to the royal kitchen. But if you would drink a health, you must first ask my permission."

#fairy tales #the brothers grimm #the boots of buffalo leather #thought about this story the other day and decided i needed to share #since it's at the end of volume 2 i doubt many people run across it #i couldn't even find links to it on fairy tale sites that collect the tale

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isfjmel-phleg · 3 years

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A, C, F, H, and Q for the bookish asks, if you please and thank you!

A/1. Which book would you consider the best book you’ve ever read and why?

Well, the Bible’s the default answer for this, for obvious reasons. But otherwise, how do I make this selection? There are many books I love best, but they’re impossible to compare and rate over each other because they have such different things to offer. Is it best in terms of literary quality? Or themes that resonated most with me? Or something I just really liked for arbitrary reasons?

For literary quality: Pride and Prejudice. Brilliant plotting, characterization, and prose. Novels don’t get any better than this.

For personally most resonant themes: The Mysterious Benedict Society. The characters’ internal conflicts hit home for me. A lot.

For arbitrary preference: Leave It to Psmith. A masterpiece of prose in a deceptively fun and light-hearted story.

(I guess. Other books could easily fill in any of those spots on another occasion.)

C/3. Are there any genres you will not read?

I’m willing to try a very well-written example of most genres I don’t normally read if someone with taste recommends it, but I refuse to have anything to do with erotic literature.

F/6. Are you the type of person who will read a book to the end whether you like it or not, or will you put it down straight away if you’re not feeling into it?

I used to stick with a book till the end even if I didn’t like it, but recently I’ve decided that I don’t have time to bother if the book isn’t grabbing me past a certain point or is just plain offensive. So far only two have gotten this treatment.

H/8. Do you prefer to read first person or third person?

I’ll take either but have a slight preference for third person as default unless there’s a narrative purpose for first person (does it benefit the story to have such a limited narrator or for it to be told in this specific voice?).

Q/17. Do you know any poetry by heart?

I was forced to learn some poems in grade school, and if I really think about it, I can still recall some of them. And I memorized a few short silly ones as a kid for fun.

#asks #valiantarcher #thank you!#random personal stuff

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isfjmel-phleg · 4 years

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rupertpsmith replied to your post: I’m arguing that Psmith has a character arc...

I think that getting worse also counts as character growth and an important part of character development, and him getting worse before he gets better might still work as a point for you? Ofc I don't know the full context of what you're writing, but

That’s a good point. He does seem to regress, while still often being very generous and protective to Mike, so there’s almost a zigzagging even within this book alone. I’m looking at his arc generally by going through each book as a step in his development, mostly as pertaining to how he relates to people. In M&P, he develops the capacity for friendship, familial relationships seem to affect City, Journalist sees him acquire a social conscience, and of course Leave It has him fall in love. So I’m trying to figure out precisely what his arc is in City and how it fits with all that. Somehow it’s been difficult to focus and sort through ideas lately.

fictionadventurer replied to your post: I’m arguing that Psmith has a character arc...

Psmith is pretty terrible in this book. He's very self-serving (even his kindness to Mike is self-centered). Maybe that failure is part of his character development; he's relating to other people in a familial way but struggling to figure out how to do it because of his strained relationship with his dad. Or, since you're focusing on the whole series arc, his self-centeredness in this book shows how significant it is that he develops concern for others in Journalist.

He makes considerable strides in M&P as he gradually develops a solid friendship with Mike. As my thesis chair put it today, he shows up at Sedleigh as a sort of overgrown child and has to learn to be a person from his interactions with Mike. He comes a long way. And then...I don’t know, he gets used to Mike? Takes him for granted? Genuinely cares about him but can’t shake his old manipulative ways? He’s mastered having a friend, but he doesn’t quite have the tools to handle a long-term, close-quarters partnership and falls back on the only kind of relationship he knows and understands? In a lot of ways, he’s immature (he’s only eighteen, after all) and he’s still trying to figure out who he is and what his role in life and connection to other people are. But any precise arc here seems not as clear-cut as the ones in the other books.

You’re absolutely right. It’s important that we see him at his lowest point so that it means more when he has to grow up a lot very suddenly in New York.

#replies #rupertpsmith #fictionadventurer #I'm panicking over nothing thanks for the insight guys!#no writing tonight I'm going to take notes on Journalist and get some sleep #Psmith

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fictionadventurer · 5 years

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For the Psmith ask game: ALL OF THEM! (If you're up to it, if not I can narrow it down.) For the AU question, what about a musical AU?

1. Favorite Psmith moment

The shoe incident in Mike and Psmith. It’s Psmith at his most trickstery, but it’s also the first time we see him exert himself for someone else’s sake.

2. Favorite Mike moment

When Mike goes to listen to Waller’s speech, and spends the whole time in a terror that Psmith is going to cause some kind of scene--only for him to be the one to start a brawl.

3. Favorite thing about Psmith

The wit, the confidence, the quirky way with words--and the fact that it’s all hiding a very vulnerable person and a loyal friend.

4. Favorite thing about Mike

The way that he repeatedly sacrifices himself for the sake of others without a thought for the consequences to himself.

5. Favorite secondary character

I love Billy Windsor so much. Psmith’s cowboy journalist guide to the grimy streets of New York. Who else would be both sane enough and weird enough to serve as a kind-of mentor to someone as strange as Psmith?

6. Favorite minor character

I’ve got a soft spot for all the other Sedleigh schoolboys--Stone, Robinson, Jellicoe, even Spiller. (And of course Adair, but he’s more than a minor character). All bit parts with strong personalities.

7. Favorite Mike and Psmith moment

The moment when Mike thanks Psmith for trying to take the fall for him.

8. Favorite Psmith in the City moment

Basically any of Psmith’s confrontations with Bickersdyke.

9. Favorite Psmith, Journalist moment

The scenes where Psmith first comes to New York and he’s following around street-smart cowboy journalist Billy Windsor and realizing just how far out of his depth he is.

10. Favorite Leave It to Psmith moment

When Psmith gives Eve the umbrella. You expect him to give a flowery, manipulative speech, and he doesn’t say a word! That one moment does more than a thousand speeches to prove just how seriously in love he is.

11. Favorite antagonist

Bickersdyke just seems like the platonic ideal of a Psmith antagonist: someone very petty with a lot of power and lots of flaws for Psmith to exploit. Their dynamic is hilarious.

12. A favorite line

'Between ourselves,' confided Psmith, 'I'm dashed if I know what's going to happen to me. I am the thingummy of what's-its-name.'

'You look it,' said Mike, brushing his hair.

'Don't stand there cracking the glass,' said Psmith.

(It’s one of the most real and relatable moments of their friendship.)

13. Favorite book in the series

Probably Leave It to Psmith. Except for the lack of Mike, it’s hard to think of any flaws with it.

14. Least favorite book in the series

It probably has to be Psmith, Journalist because it has the most obvious flaws, but it pains me to list it here because I love the character development and the sheer weirdness of the book when compared to the rest of Wodehouse’s output (a cat-loving gangster! where else are you going to get that?).

15. Any extra scenes you wish the books had included?

I wish we could have seen the rest of Psmith’s heckling of Bickersdyke, rather than getting an edited summary from Psmith. I wish we could have had some scenes of Psmith at the fish market, because that would have been so weird to see him in that environment. And I wish we’d have had lots more scenes of Mike and Phyllis. To name a few.

16. Is there anything you’d change about any of the books?

I’d let Eve find the necklace in Leave It to Psmith. In Psmith in the City, I’d give Psmith one unequivocal moment of doing something nice for Mike (that didn’t involve blackmailing anyone and couldn’t be interpreted as just another kind of selfishness).

17. Any headcanons about the events/characters in the books?

Most of them come from other people. You know who you are.

18. Any headcanons about what happens after the end of the series?

See here.

19. Any ideas of what a musical AU would look like?

If we’re talking about “the books as a musical”, I suggest we take Leave It to Psmith, the one that best fits Wodehouse’s genre of “musical comedy without the music” and, well, add music. Emsworth gets Winnie-the-Pooh-type pottering songs. Psmith and Eve get a short little love theme about the umbrella in the rain that gets further developed when they actually fall in love. The two gangsters get a very jazzy villain duet. Miss Peavey gets a song that contrasts her sickly sweet poetess side with her gritty, hard-nosed criminal side. Freddie gets a song comparing his life to the movies. Baxter gets sing-talky Frustration Songs. Let’s find a way to give Phyllis and Mike a love song, too (or at least a song talking about their courtship).

But can we also consider...High School Musical AU. Mike, the kid who was forced into drama club to “help with his social anxiety” reluctantly discovers that he likes acting in musicals and is set to be a star in his school’s big production next year when he gets kicked out because of some ill-thought stunt he pulled when trying to help a friend get out of trouble. He goes to a new school and meets Psmith, the Ultimate Drama Kid who got pulled out of his very art-focused school because his grades were failing, and who has decided to sulk by not having anything to do with the drama club at this school. They both try to reinvent themselves by joining the school sports team. This tiny school has a tiny drama department that is being built up by the efforts of Adair, whose years in the drama club have helped him through a lonely childhood and who wants their school to be a source of Great Theater. During the school talent show, one of their friends’ acts has a member fall sick, leading Psmith to step up and show intense dramatic and musical talent and causing Adair to sweep him up for the school musical. Or at least try to. Psmith and Adair both clash because of prima donna tendencies and Psmith hasn’t forgotten some snarky remarks that Adair made about his supposed lack of musical talent. A school prank gone wrong leads suspicion to fall on Psmith and Mike tries to redirect suspicion by confessing to it himself, only for the real culprit to confess at the last minute. There’s some ridiculous Glee-style musical fight between Psmith and Adair, which leads the two to put aside their differences and gain respect for each other as artists. When Psmith learns that his old school had to pull out of a local theater festival because of widespread illness, he manages to put forward Sedleigh to fill the spot in the schedule, and their performance is a wild success that put Sedleigh on the map as a Decent Little Arts Program.

20. A favorite moment of character development?

I love Psmith learning about the squalor in New York’s slums and resolving to do something about it. And I love Mike’s moment of developing some social tact with Adair.

21. An underrated/easily overlooked moment/scene?

Psmith shows up for the first day of work in the bank, several hours late, and just sits himself down and starts entering numbers in a ledger. In the postage department.

22. What do you like best about the Psmith series?

I love how different each book is from the rest--makes it very easy to keep track of the books in the series (which can be a bit of a struggle with Wodehouse). I love the groundedness in the real world contrasted with the zaniness of some of the schemes and characters. And of course, I love the Mike and Psmith friendship.

23. Talk about anything you want related to the series

“The cry goes round” is such a wonderful catchphrase. It slays me every time. There are probably more meaningful things I could talk about here but I just wanted to mention that.

#psmith pseptember #ask games #psmith #mike jackson #p.g. wodehouse #mike and psmith #psmith in the city #psmith journalist #leave it to psmith #isfjmel-phleg

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isfjmel-phleg · 6 years

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What was your first exposure to Wodehouse? When? First impressions? Did it take a book or two, or was it love at first sentence? Sorry if you’ve covered this already. Tootle-pip!

Don’t be sorry! I may have talked about this before inpassing (addressed a little in thisaudio post, now that I think of it), but not in any particular depth. It wasn’tespecially dramatic.

It was the summer of 2010. I was eighteen and had justfinished my first year of community college. It was my first exposure to theschool environment after being homeschooled my entire life, and being a) naturallyterrible at making friends and connecting with strangers and b) in the grip of adumb persecution complex and the aftermath of weird undealt-with personalnonsense leftover from 2008, I met the challenge with plenty of bad attitude,stuck-on side, and simmering belligerence. In other words, although I didn’tput the pieces together at the time, I was perfectly poised to appreciate MikeJackson.

A friend of mine had recommended Wodehouse—no particularbook, just the author—so, since it was summer and there wasn’t much else to dobut read, I took her up on it. I had a sort of idea that it would be best tobegin with his early stuff (why? some vague impression that it was allconnected and best read in order? I don’t know), so I poked around Wikipediaand came away with a confused impression that he began writing school storiesand the first series began with Mike andPsmith. So that was the one I requested from the library.

I honestly don’t remember much about reading it for thefirst time. But I liked it, enough to read it to my sisters (the other hobby ofthose days), mainly because Psmith was hilarious and they needed to know howhilarious he was. They (fourteen and twelve at the time) were initiallyskeptical, but @nerdysk8s was won over by the line “Somewhere in the world thesun was shining, birds were twittering; somewhere in the world lambkins friskedand peasants sang blithely at their toil (flat, perhaps, but still blithely),but to Mike at that moment the sky was black, and an icy wind blew over theface of the earth.” From there on, she knew it would be funny (to this day I can text her “flat, perhaps, but still blithely” and it’s still a joke), and we enjoyedourselves from there, even if I did have to skip the cricket parts, whichconfused me. I recall having a hard time getting out Psmith’s line whileDowning is looking under the beds in Barnes’s dormitory—“Are you looking forBarnes, sir?”—because of laughing so hard!

So I read the rest of the series and loved it and then wenton to the Jeeves short stories omnibus…and it escalated from there. The Psmithobsession increased throughout college, especially after I transferred to myuniversity, whose library had the first two books. After graduation, I found Ididn’t want to leave those books and bought the entire series in a fit of extravagance.Several months later, I began annotations, which is when the Wodehouse interestbecame more serious.

But my freshman self laughing over Mike and Psmith for the first time could never have pictured afuture of guest-lecturing a couple of freshman English classes about that book(as I’ll be doing next week *terrified*). Which just goes to show you stuff.Namely, take your friends’ advice on book recommendations. They might be on to something,like…your next weird hobby/life obsession? I guess.

#asks #whateverimtrolling #p. g. wodehouse #mike and psmith #random personal stuff

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isfjmel-phleg · 7 years

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In research for the upcoming Henry V paper, I’ve encountered Eileen Jorge Allman’s book Player-King and Adversary: Two Faces of Play in Shakespeare, which posits that there are two basic types of characters in Shakespeare. Namely:

The Player-King

“[T]he complete player—actor, producer, and poet-playwright”

Undergoes development into this role during the story

First. suffers some kind of threat to his identity

Next, “comes to view himself as potentially everyone and no one—that is, as the quintessential human being”

Finally, uses play (acting) to enact what he has learned, teach other characters, and bring about harmony

With different degrees of success: Richard II, Henry V, Duke Vincentio, Hamlet, Coriolanus, and Prospero

The Adversary

Refuses to see any viable role besides that of himself

Avoids introspection, which threatens self, instead forcing others to fit his mold

“[A] proficient technician and a shrewd competitor” with one goal—control

Vision only concerns his desire to win, thus causing “destruction and chaos”

Distances himself from communities, no interest in harmony

With varying degrees of ill-intent: Bullingbrook, Falstaff, Angelo, Pandarus, Claudius, Macbeth, Iago, and Edmund

When a Player-King succeeds, the play is usually a comedy. If he doesn’t, it’s tragedy. If the play’s about a monarch who does or does not live up to the Player-King role, it’s usually a history.

While of course this is a marvelous theory of Shakespearean characters, I couldn’t help noticing how well it fits the basic conflicts of Wodehouse’s characters too! It’s much like what I was trying to impress upon the Comp II classes back in February about the two kinds of manipulators as exemplified in Psmith/Uncle Fred/Galahad Threepwood and Jeeves/Baxter/Connie.

Every single one of Psmith’s antagonists is an Adversary. Psmith of course is the consummate Player-King. After being ignominiously cast out of Eton, he creates a new identity for himself and amuses himself at Sedleigh parodying stock characters of school stories. He eventually reaches the realization that embracing his new community is a better response than resistance, and sets about putting his wits to work for the sake of (mostly) his new best friend. Repeat, in variations, throughout the whole series. We see Psmith develop and change priorities perhaps more than we do any other Wodehouse character. On the other hand, Jeeves doesn’t change much as far as we can see. He has a firm concept of who he is and what he wants, and most of that is control over Bertie, at just about any price. If Bertie won’t comply, Jeeves will employ all his craftiness to make him change his mind one way or another. His efforts may not leave his world in chaos, and his schemes usually end with everyone having been satisfied, but it’s less from altruism or a desire to impart his wisdom to others. The ultimate goal is the status quo as he approves it.

And so on through the canon. As Wodehouse himself remarked in Over Seventy, he and Shakespeare were writing similar things: “…the fundamental distinction between Shakespeare and myself is one of treatment. We get our effects differently. […] Who can say which method is the superior?”

#p. g. wodehouse #shakespeare #eileen jorge allman #player-king and adversary #psmith #reginald jeeves #all the shakespeare people whom i won't bother to tag

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