This novel brings features a wide selection of familiar characters from the Elysian world of Bertie Wooster.

There are a lot of things one can say about P G Wodehouse's books - immature, very childish, total unworldly, lacking in any political or ecological conscience … It is difficult to challenge any of those judgements (and I should know because most of them have been regularly applied to me, too). However, it is equally valid, and to my mind infinitely preferable, to consider them as exquisite, beautifully written, faultlessly constructed, charming and ceaselessly entertaining. Sadly, precisely none of those epithets have ever been applied to me!

In this world, gentlemen always wear suits, and occasionally spats though never (in England, anyway) Alpine hats, or not, at least, if Jeeves has his way. They also never bandy a lady's name or break an engagement, no matter how disastrously they might view the prospect of nuptials. Bertie Wooster, though not the brightest chap ever to have ventured into metropolitan life, is a stickler for such correct behaviour, and frequently finds himself beset as a consequence of his scruples.

Wodehouse's writing is a joy - always grammatically perfect, yet he is able to capture the different voices with clinical precision. Bertie rambles in a manner now reminiscent of Boris Johnson (though without the egregious narcissism) [although, of course, in reality it is the other way round with Johnson trying to sound like Wodehouse, but lacking the charm to pull it off] while Jeeves favours a cultured orotundity of speech, peppered with a mixture of highly scholarly references to poetry and philosophy bathetically contrasted with allusions to his rather bizarre-sounding family. The plots are immensely intricate, to the extent that they make Agatha Christie's novels seem entirely transparent, but Wodehouse always ties up every loose end, no matter how impossible that might seem even just one or two chapters from the end of the book. ( )

A satisfactory read - but...

Stiff Upper Lip, Jeeves is consistently funny, and actually moves along the plots of the wealth of recurring characters Wodehouse had compiled by this point. However, it feels a little bit like we're on autopilot. Nothing is quite as outrageous as in the earlier novels, and often chapters will end with situations being salvaged rather than worsened! That's not to say that Wodehouse is straying from the formula: instead he's using the regular 'Jeeves' formula but seems to have removed some of the spicier ingredients.

I wouldn't recommend this book to newcomers. There are far too many recurring characters for a new reader, and the situational comedy doesn't reach anything near the heights of The Code of the Woosters, for example. (A book that is referred to constantly here, making the comparison all the more bitter.)

The novel was published in 1963, by which time Wodehouse was in his 80s(!) and had been writing Jeeves and Wooster stories for 50 years(!!). For loyal fans, there are still charms to soothe the savage breast. Regardless of my qualms, the narrative voice remains as sublime as it has ever been. A diverting read for the helpless Wodehouse acolyte. ( )

Wow—a late spurt of excellence in the Jeeves œuvre. A must read. ( )

Told from Wooster's perspective, he only finds himself in constant trouble when merely attempting to help Stinker Pinker. A humorous story that explores resilience, with a final rescue from Jeeves. ( )

Told from Wooster's perspective, he only finds himself in constant trouble when merely attempting to help Stinker Pinker. A humorous story that explores resilience, with a final rescue from Jeeves. ( )