Jeeves and the Feudal Spirit

Jeeves and the Feudal Spirit

P G Wodehouse

1954

246 page, paperback

Jeeves and the Feudal Spirit is a delightful, non-rushed read.  A short-story set in London, back in the day (what day, I'm not sure, but butlers and country houses and dart games in clubs were all common at that time).  It was for a long bus ride that Gabe recommended this particular book for Sophie.  I recently asked her what she thought of it and from her description it seemed like a perfect book for this week. It is light-hearted and does not require solving any of the world's problems.  The story takes place in a short time span and introduces characters that are in other books by P G Wodenhouse in the Jeeves series. This book being not the first, or the last, was satisfying just as it was.  Jeeves is the butler and he is smart.  Bertie Wooster is easy enough to like and is in often need of Jeeves help.  Enter in an old Aunt, on-going mustache conversations, a variety of people that are in and out of love and a business deal or two and you have the makings for this story. 

I enjoyed this book for the unusual use of language alone.  The long, interesting descriptive sentences and dialogues from another time charmed me, add several french phrases thrown in for good measure and it held my interest enough to help me get through a migraine, so that was a plus. 

The author, a man from England, moved to NY in 1909 and his writing career flourished.  It helped me to already like British humor and having lived a year in London also made it a fun book for me.  Even though no world problem's were solved, the story did wrap up nicely and although I'm not rushing out to find the next Jeeves book, I will enjoy one when it comes my way.

Here is a little excerpt from page 9 and 10 to show the pacing and interaction of the characters: 

"Something appears to be arresting your attention, Jeeves. Is there a smut on my noes?

His manner continued frosty.  There are moments when he looks just like a governess, one of which was this one. 

"No, sir. It is on the upper lip.  A dark stain like mulligatawny soup."

I gave a careless nod.

"Ah, yes," I said.  "The moustache.  That is what you are alluding to, is it not?  I grew it while you were away. Rather natty, don't you think?"

"No sir, I do not."

And the story goes on from there. If you have time on your hands, this is a good little book to escape into.