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Rating: 
Summary: A Ripping Good Read, What?
Review: The diehard Wodehouse reader, having savoured of the Master's best, may justly wonder what possible good can come of yet another reviewer shoving in his oar. Suddenly noticing how warm it is, I run a finger around my collar, and fumble out, in a manner reminiscent of one Bertie Wooster, the only possible answer: "Er...I rather thought I would."
Strengthened by a beaker and overcoming my diffidence, I warm to my theme: that there aren't many books from 1903, that is to say, over 100 years ago, that one still feels like reading. And it's rather ripping, really, that this book is really three books: The Pothunters, A Prefect's Uncle, and Tales of St. Austin's. I mean more for your money, what? And the last tome is really a lot of short stories, with a longish one rivaling anything Plum ever wrote.
Adding that most of them were scrawled out for a boys' rag called The Captain, and that they're all about the good ol' school and cricket and footer and all that, and given all the bilge being shoved out these days on the reading public, odds on twenty-five to one that my readers would give them a miss, not knowing that they're red-hot stuff. As someone said--I think it was the poet Burns. Jeeves would know. No wait--it was Colin McInnes: "Behind this seemingly effortless performance there is infinite skill, and a splendid, kindly wisdom; and in these early books, we can observe the young Wodehouse learning to enchant us with these two rare and beautiful gifts." Or maybe it was the poet Burns. Anyway, it's a ripping good read.
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