Thursday, October 8, 2009

Psmith in the City, by P.G. Wodehouse

I can't decide if, meeting Psmith in real life, I'd like him or not. He's kind of a dick. All his interactions seem to result from his boredom, not from any desire to actually interact. His conversations seem to convey his condescension to his counterparts, like he's only deigning to talk to someone so stupid because he finds it humorous that people so stupid actually exist. Reading about it is funny, but thinking about trading places with Jackson makes me wonder if my first order of business wouldn't be punching Psmith right in the mouth.

But, like I said, reading about it is funny, so this book was good reading. Again, there was quite a bit of cricket. If I had read this without having first read Cricket Explained, the cricket bits would have been a chore, but because I could understand what was happening, they were exciting and dramatic. I was nervous for Mike in the final cricket match because I was certain someone would ruin his century the way the bank manager did at the beginning of the book, but it didn't happen. Psmith's (and Wodehouse's) dislike for meaningless office work found a doting acolyte with me, having once worked in a bureaucracy nearly as bloated and worthless as the fictional New Asiatic Bank.

All in all, it was another enjoyable read, but it lost a bit of its luster when I stopped to think about meeting Psmith in read life.

Rating: 5 out of 7 giant inflatable monkeys.

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