Uncle Fred in the Springtime by P. G. Wodehouse

Source of book: I own this

I am participating in an online book club, hosted by my friend Carrie, who has a popular book blog, Reading to Know. This month, we are reading books by P. G. Wodehouse, rather than a particular book. 

Uncle Fred in the Springtime is one of the Lord Emsworth series. Emsworth is a middle-aged member of the formerly glorious gentry, who is dominated by his sisters, in this case, his formidable sister Constance. Emsworth would like nothing better than to be left alone to nurture his prize pig, the Empress of Blandings. Lady Constance convinces the Duke of Dunstable to take possession of the pig. This being Wodehouse, there is no chance that anyone would stand up to a woman of this sort, so Emsworth consults Lord Ickenham, also known as Pongo Twistleton’s Uncle Fred. A scheme is hatched, whereby the Empress will be preemptively stolen.

To add to the fun, Wodehouse adds in a private detective and card shark, “Mustard” Potts; his daughter Polly, whose boyfriend needs to borrow money to purchase an onion soup restaurant; Pongo’s sister Valerie, who has just broken up with Horace Davenport, who is Dunstable’s nephew; and, well, you get the idea.

In order to carry out the necessary plot, Uncle Fred and Pongo must assume a false identity. As is typical in Wodehouse, everything keeps getting more complicated, as each step in the scheme requires further conspiracy and conspirators. Catastrophe looms, and everything is on the verge of going horribly wrong, until a few inspired ideas and some good fortune straighten everything out.

For those who are familiar with Wodehouse, none of this is a surprise. The basic template is the very basis of Wodehouse’s art. However, the humorous characters and the outrageous lengths to which they will go keep the reader on his toes.

My thoughts on the book:

Wodehouse’s use of language and dialogue makes use of the humorous potential of Briticisms, which abound. When Pongo attempts to borrow money from Horace, he is refused.

            “Oh? Right ho. Well in that case,” said Pongo stiffly, “tinkerty-tonk.”

Later, after Valerie has broken up with Horace, Pongo takes his friend’s side against his sister. Later, Uncle Fred reveals Valerie’s thoughts.

            “Then you’re all alone?”

            “Except for your sister Valerie.”

            “Oh, my gosh. Is she here?”

            “She arrived last night, breathing flame through her nostrils. You’ve heard about her broken engagement? Perhaps you have come here with the idea of comforting her in her distress?”

            “Well, not absolutely. In fact, between you and me, I’m not any too keen on meeting her at the moment. I rather took Horace’s side in the recent brawl, and our relations are distant.”

            Lord Ickenham nodded.

            “Yes, now that you mention it, I recollect her saying something about you being some offensive breed of insect. An emotional girl.”

            “Yes.”

            “But I can’t understand her making such heavy weather over the thing. Everybody knows a broken engagement doesn’t amount to anything. Your aunt, I remember, broke ours six times in all before making me the happiest man in the world.”

Uncle Fred is a force of nature. Perhaps one could say that he is what Psmith would be after age 60. He has that unflappable nature combined with Jeeves’ ingenuity. When the annoyingly serious Rupert Baxter (the Duke’s secretary) discovers Uncle Fred’s impersonation, he confronts Pongo and Fred.

            “The risk you run, when you impersonate another man, is that you are apt to come up against somebody to whom his appearance is familiar.”

            “Trite, but true. Do you like my moustache like that? Or like this?”

            Rupert Baxter’s impatient gesture seemed to say that he was Nemesis, not a judge in a male beauty contest.

Later, Rupert reflects on his employer’s nature.

            Rupert Baxter had no illusions about his employer. He did not suppose that the gruff exterior of the Duke of Dunstable hid a heart of gold, feeling – correctly – that if the Duke were handed a heart of gold on a plate with watercress around it, he would not know what it was.

One of the things that have always struck me about Wodehouse is that he portrays women, particularly aunts, but also sisters, spouses, and girlfriends, as rather domineering. The men, as a counterpart, are weak willed, and completely unable to stand up for themselves when confronted by one of these women. Thus, Bertie Wooster keeps finding himself engaged to women he fears and dislikes. Fearsome aunts run amok, and destroy the complacent happiness of the feckless young men that populate the Wodehouse universe.

The henpecked man/domineering woman stereotype is not unique to Wodehouse. Another author whose career significantly overlapped was James Thurber. The parallels in their respective characters are striking, although Thurber’s writing has a darker edge. I always found it interesting that both writers were reasonably happily married. Wodehouse married a widow who seemed to be his complete opposite in personality and interests. They were married for sixty years. Most likely, Wodehouse based his formidable females on his own aunts, who practically raised him. Thurber’s first marriage ended in divorce, but his second was by all accounts happy. If anything, his second wife was indispensible to him as he went blind, and they were devoted to each other. Whatever the inspiration, both wrote convincingly of the man hounded by the woman. 

 P. G. Wodehouse and his wife, Ethel

 Wodehouse even goes so far in this book as to have Uncle Fred, advise Polly Pott on how to reconcile with her beloved – but not too easily. He recommends she avoid his attempts at reconciliation for a while, lest he think she gave in too easily.

            Polly frowned. In a world scented with flowers and filled with soft music, these sentiments jarred upon her.

            “I don’t see why it’s got to be a sort of fight.”

            “Well, it has. Marriage is a battlefield, not a bed of roses. Who said that? It sounds too good to be my own. Not that I don’t think of some extraordinarily good things, generally in my bath.”

            “I love Ricky.”

            “And very nice too. But the only way of ensuring a happy married life is to get it thoroughly clear at the outset who is going to skipper the team. My own dear wife settled the point during the honeymoon, and ours has been an ideal union.”

Whether or not Uncle Fred actually believes this is a point for speculation, but it certainly reflects the views of many of Wodehouse’s female characters.

One of my goals in life is to introduce my friends and acquaintances to unjustly neglected authors. In an age when humor has become dependent on shock value and vulgarity, and often meanness, Wodehouse stands out as a great example of the power of good natured parody and absurdity to bring a smile, a chuckle, and even a laugh.

The Importance of Being Earnest by Oscar Wilde

Source of book: I own this. My particular copy was given to me by my mother, and contains four additional plays by Wilde.

I haven’t read any drama for the last two years. Even typing that makes me sad. From henceforth, I resolve to keep a play in my book pile.

As I am a great fan of wit, what better way to start than by reading Oscar Wilde? I read a scene or two from The Importance of Being Earnest back in high school, but didn’t own the book until later. I do not believe I ever finished it, which is a shame, because it is quite enjoyable.

Many people associate Wilde with his novel, The Picture of Dorian Gray, which has been a fertile source for Science Fiction ever since. He wrote in a wide range of genres: drama, fiction, essays, and poetry; all of which are worth reading. Dorian Gray was considered to be scandalous in its time, in part because of its author, who was rumored to be homosexual. Later, he was actually convicted of this crime, which further tarnished and embellished his reputation.

Earnest is a wonderfully witty and snarky play. I could quote from any random page and find a delicious witticism, or at least a rapier sharp takedown of literature or society. Like any good satirist, Wilde is amusing because he sees truth. Without hypocrisy, there is no satire; and without room for satire, hypocrisy becomes totalitarianism. This is why the Danish cartoons of Mohammed have caused violence, rather than guilty laughter. We can either laugh at our faults, or kill those who do.

A bad pun is at the heart of The Importance of Being Earnest. Both Jack Worthing and Algernon Moncrieff are young gentlemen who are anything but earnest. They both create imaginary characters to aid them in their irresponsibility. Soon enough, both have assumed the character of Jack’s imaginary brother Ernest. Two eligible young women fall in love with them, believing each to have the name of Ernest. Obviously (to them), neither “Jack” nor “Algernon” are suitable as names for husbands. Only “Ernest” will do. As expected, much hilarity ensues.

Other memorable characters are Lady Bracknell, Algernon’s aunt, who provided P. G. Wodehouse with his template for the infamous Aunt Agatha; Lane, a butler who might be an early version of Jeeves; Miss Prism, the puritan governess; and Reverend Chausable, the clergyman willing to forsake celibacy for his love for Miss Prism.

I must quote a few lines to give the flavor of the play. Algernon, who has been playing the piano, says to Lane, “I don’t play accurately – any one can play accurately – but I play with wonderful expression.” At this point, all of us musicians nod our heads.

Later, Jack and Algernon are discussing dinner parties and having to sit next to married couples. Algernon, who is even more cynical than Jack comments, “The amount of women in London who flirt with their own husbands is perfectly scandalous. It looks so bad. It is simply washing one’s clean linen in public.”

Algernon’s imaginary invalid friend, Mr. Bunbury, is his prop to get out of unwanted social obligations. Invited to dine with Lady Bracknell? Bunbury is sick and needs care. Lady Bracknell is not impressed.

“Well, I must say, Algernon, that I think it is high time that Mr. Bunbury made up his mind whether he was going to live or die. This shilly-shallying with the question is absurd. Nor do I in any way approve of the modern sympathy with invalids. I consider it morbid. Illness of any kind is hardly a thing to be encouraged in others. Health is the primary duty of life. I am always telling that to your poor uncle, but he never seems to take much notice…as far as any improvement in his ailment goes.”

Lady Bracknell is hardly the only misanthropic character. Her distaste for mankind is aristocratic; that of Miss Prism is puritanical. When Cecily, who is Jack’s ward and later Algernon’s love interest, expresses an interest in reforming Jack’s (imaginary) dissolute brother Ernest, she states, “I am not in favor of this modern mania for turning bad people into good people at a moment’s notice. As a man sows, so let him reap.”

Miss Prism further disdains all attraction between the sexes – except perhaps on the basis of moral character. Algernon is attempting to woo Cecily, and uses the old line: “You are the prettiest girl I ever saw.”

Cecily responds, “Miss Prism says that all good looks are a snare.”

“They are a snare that every sensible man would like to be caught in,” says the smitten Algernon.”

Not to be outdone in wit, Cecily counters, “Oh, I don’t think I would care to catch a sensible man. I shouldn’t know what to talk to him about.”

Later in the play, Algernon takes his pursuit even farther, asking for Cecily’s hand in marriage. As he does, Cecily attempts to put his words down in her diary as he says them, asking him to go back and repeat things so she gets it right. This, predictably, causes him to get ever more flustered and ever less poetic than he intended. As a lawyer, this made me wonder if proposing to a court reporter were a bit like this.

As a final bit of wit, I cannot help but quote a dialogue between Cecily and Miss Prism, who most decidedly does not approve of Cecily’s diary.

CECILY: I keep a diary in order to enter the wonderful secrets of my life. If I didn’t write them down, I should probably forget all about them.

MISS PRISM: Memory, my dear Cecily, is the diary that we all carry about with us.

CECILY: Yes, but it usually chronicles the things that have never happened, and couldn’t possibly have happened. I believe that the Memory is responsible for nearly all the three-volume novels that [a popular pulp novel publisher] sends us.

MISS PRISM: Do not speak slightingly of the three-volume novel, Cecily. I wrote one myself in earlier days.

CECILY: Did you really, Miss Prism? How wonderfully clever you are! I hope it did not end happily? I don’t like novels that end happily. They depress me so much.

MISS PRISM: The good ended happily, and the bad unhappily. That is what Fiction means.

Read this play, or better yet, see it live if you can. Wilde’s wit and penetrating knowledge of his world (and ours) never really gets old. Human nature remains the same, with the same foibles and tics. Wilde captures these, and brings them to a razor-sharp life, unmistakable as the essence of what we really think, but cannot bring ourselves to say out loud.

Note: I read the original version of the play, with the full four acts. Wilde later shortened it slightly, and compressed the action into three acts. 

 

The original production of The Importance of Being Earnest in 1895 with Allan Aynesworth as Algernon (left) and George Alexander as Jack (right)

Martin Chuzzlewit by Charles Dickens

Source of book: I own this

“Selfishness is that detestable vice which no one will forgive in others, and no one is without himself.” ~ Henry Ward Beecher

In classical Greek drama, a tragedy is a story about a great man undone by his fatal flaw. Subsequent tragedies by Shakespeare and others have continued this tradition, highlighting the effects of the fatal flaw on the central character of each play. In most cases, this flaw is pride.

To a degree, Martin Chuzzlewit is a tragedy written as a prose novel; or rather, several tragedies. Pride is not the fatal flaw in this book, however. Dickens chooses selfishness as his central theme. This fatal flaw afflicts the majority of the major characters, and threatens to lead each to his or her doom.

The title of the book is ambiguous, as it could refer either to Martin Chuzzlewit, the old man; or to Martin Chuzzlewit, his grandson. Selfishness on both sides (mixed with pride) causes a rift between the Martins when young Martin desires to court young Mary, who old Martin has essentially adopted as his ward. The rift develops in spite of the fact that old Martin ultimately desires the match, but wanted it to be his idea.

Selfishness also drives old Martin’s brother Anthony and Anthony’s son Jonas, who becomes so consumed that he…well, I refuse to spoil the plot. You will have to read it for yourself.

The most selfish character of them all, however, is the unforgettable Seth Pecksniff.  Pecksniff: the name has entered the vernacular as a synonym for hypocrisy.  His selfishness is the worst of all because he disguises it with false humility and fake virtue. Interestingly, this false face is convincing to many, but fails to fool the most selfish of the other characters. Anthony sees right through it, as does Montague Tigg, the con artist extraordinaire. Pecksniff is in this way, the most important and unforgettable character in the book. It is his eventual comeuppance that is the most satisfying: I felt a twinge of pity for every other character at one point or another, but relished the schadenfreude far too much when Pecksniff took his delightful fall.

Dickens was an optimist, however, and did not allow the fatal flaw to destroy all of his characters. Young Martin is able to overcome his selfishness and change his destiny after an ill fated trip to the United States.

The episode in America is the turning point in the drama that reverses the course of events; but it also caused the most controversy among Dickens’ American fans for its harsh depiction of the American character.

Dickens travelled to the United States for a tour in 1842, when he was already a major celebrity. Although he was acclaimed and the tour could be considered a success, Dickens apparently was left with a negative impression. Martin Chuzzlewit, written in the two years following the tour, reflects Dickens’ view of the United States at that time. His descriptions lack his usual sense of humor and good will, and have a rather bitter flavor. This is particularly odd given Dickens’ general ability to write kindly about the various laughable and flawed characters found in his native England. From Oliver Twist’s Nancy to David Copperfield’s Mr. Micawber, to this book’s Mrs. Gamp, Dickens is able to leave a redeeming feature or two in all except for the true villains. In this case, however, he is unable to make even one of his American characters sympathetic. All that is reserved for the British expatriates.

Admittedly, Dickens does have some points in his criticism. He was an abolitionist, so slavery bothered him – rightfully so. However, he demonstrates, perhaps, the natural intolerance present in one recently converted. (Recovering alcoholics are generally the most intolerant of alcohol, for example.)  Britain abolished slavery throughout the empire in 1833. Dickens visited the US in 1942, less than 10 years later.

There is also another likely reason for Dickens’ vitriol. International copyright laws were not yet establish, so unauthorized re-printings of Dickens’ works were readily available in the United States – and Dickens received nothing from these in royalties.

This might explain why Dickens wrote so harshly about American manners. In my opinion, he was a bit hypocritical in this. He viewed them as savages, much in the same way Americans (and the British) viewed African-Americans.

Dickens is on firmer ground writing about the land scandals and swindles common in the United States at the time. Dickens also effectively mirrors these swindles later in the book in the episodes involving Montague Tigg and the Anglo Bengali Life Assurance Company.

Back to the transformation of young Martin, who has traveled to America with Mark Tapley, the eternal optimist. Young Martin is first influenced by Mark, and is truly transformed when he, for the first time, performs a selfless act in nursing Mark through an illness. Young Martin’s change of heart leads, although not immediately, to a reconciliation with old Martin, and redeems that part of the story.

As is usual with Dickens’ longer works, there is a mix of strong and weak writing. Maintaining the quality throughout 800 or more pages released as a serial in a magazine over the course of a year is difficult, to be sure. Dickens did a good job of maintaining the readers’ interest, but sometimes let things get ragged around the edges.

In this particular book, Dickens did a better job with the plot than some of his others. It is a bit less unrealistic than many of his others, and relies less on sentiment and coincidence.  It is also well paced, with the jumps between parallel stories adding to the suspense. Dickens also does a good job of keeping incidents for the most part in line with the narrative arc. He sometimes struggles with this, creating characters which seem there for mere comic relief that have nothing to do with the story.

Where this book is weaker is in the ever present temptation to preach rather than show. I can think of a few passages in which I felt that Dickens had already made his point through the story or dialogue, and didn’t need to hammer it in with a lecture. This is, of course, a notable flaw in Dickens as a whole, and not limited to him either. Plenty of authors simply cannot resist saying, “In case you didn’t get that…”

Dickens’ also has his usual problem with female characters. The caricatures are well done, as usual – quite recognizable as familiar types from the era and place. Gamp, Todgers, Lupine, Mrs. Hominy.  Dickens can write a good female villain, although not in this book. He generally writes scoundrels well.

The two main females fit the Dickens stereotypes: the good, quiet, small, helpful yet helpless sorts. The “ministering angel”, if you will. They seem to have no opinions of their own, and never change or grow. It would be easy to set this down to Victorian chauvinism except for the fact that strong females were present prior to Dickens (see Jane Austen, Jane and Sir Walter Scott). Furthermore, Anthony Trollope, Wilkie Collins, George Eliot, the Bronte sisters, and others wrote compelling female characters. The objection is not only in the “little woman” personality but by the lack of dynamic characters. If women are to be humans, not decorations or caricatures, they must grow, change, and develop as the men are allowed to do.

Martin Chuzzlewit does contain a gallery of memorable characters, in true Dickens fashion.

Mark Tapley is of the few Dickens characters who is both good and non-nauseating. He is essentially, Dickens’ voice in the book – the good humored side of Dickens. He may be unnaturally cheerful, and have a heart too good to be true, but he also is so laughably hard on himself that he can’t be hated.

 I can’t decide for certain if Tom Pinch is annoyingly good or not. On the one hand, he is far too good and patient to be completely likeable. On the other, there are two redeeming qualities. First is that his goodness and his timidity are so intertwined that you want to yell at him to “buck up!” Thus, it is so satisfying when he finally gets his dander up and tells Jonas off. The other is that he is humanized by his unrequited love for Mary. He endures such sorrow throughout the book that one feels he is human – he indeed feels pain and struggles with it.

Mrs. Gamp is a memorable caricature with her own peculiar version of selfishness. The imaginary friend who flatters her is a stroke of genius by Dickens.

Young Martin is a truly dynamic character, and more representative than Dickens’ early protagonist, Oliver Twist. Martin is less loveable than many heroes, particularly at first. His transformation is a key to the story, and it is fairly believable, resulting from hardship and selfless action rather than from a mere epiphany. One also senses that he has a bit more to grow.

I also wanted to mention a particularly interesting parallel between Montague Tigg and his Life Assurance Company and a now defunct local real estate company whose demise also led to widespread losses and criminal charges. In each case, the proprietor used ostentation to give credibility. In both cases, this was quite effective, and also a good reason to be wary of those who flaunt their wealth and good taste.

As a final remark, this book is an inspiration toward living beyond one’s self. The characters that find happiness are those that learn to look beyond their own selfishness and seek the good of others.