Indu Muralidharan's Blog
March 1, 2025
On Pastiches and Fanfiction
I revisited Jeeves and the Wedding Bells after coming across a fine example of epistolary fanfiction in which Bertie enlists in the army and exchanges letters with Jeeves, with Aunt Agatha and then war separating the two. Jeeves and Wooster is the only kind of fanfiction I read, for there are only so many times one can re-read the original novels and short stories. Fanfiction is acceptable as a homage to the author whose mastery of the English language remains unparalleled, though it is exceptionally brave of writers both established and new, to attempt to copy the master's voice in their own work. If I had a penny for each time I came across overt or inspired imitations of Sir Plum's prose in other novels (some by bestselling authors) or short stories in literary journals and magazines, it would probably make up three or four quid at the very least.
When this novel authorised by the Wodehouse literary estate came out in 2013, I had picked it up with much interest, but was unable to finish it then, because the voices of the main characters did not ring true to the original voices the master had bestowed upon them. Perhaps one expects a lot from an official pastiche, but Bertie's voice, despite using the same slang of the 1920s and the old familiar expressions in the canon, somehow ends up sounding like a parody that makes it painful to continue reading, especially when it tries to evoke the sublime cadence of the original but does not get it quite right.
Meanwhile, a small fandom continues to pen fanfiction on Jeeves and Wooster for the pure joy of mimicking the master's voice and imagining new stories set in the delightful world of Wodehouse. Most fanfiction remains just that, but a select few explore the nuances of the dynamics between the two main characters, the childlike Wooster and the Machiavellian Jeeves who is devoted to his 'mentally negligible' employer, beyond the canon. These stories look deeper into Wooster's life and his interactions with family and friends, and lay bare how no one in his circle really cares for him though they do not hesitate to take advantage of him. The fandom delves deeper into the wealthy orphan Bertie's feelings about his life, despite the way he remains big-hearted and kind to the friends and family who use him, and brings in new shades of character development through themes of angst, hurt, comfort, and connection that he finds through the one who is closest to him, his own valet.
Hence it is interesting but not surprising to note that a majority of the fandom ships Jeeves and Wooster as a couple, which on reading between the lines of the canon novels seems a likely possibility. To cite a few observations, Jeeves is a member of the 'Ganymede club', the name Ganymede often being an allusion to gay love. The way Jeeves serenades Wooster with quotes from Shakespeare when the two come across each other in a garden at night in 'Joy in the Morning'. The conversation between Jeeves and Wooster in the last pages of 'Jeeves and the tie that binds' which implies that the duo will be together for life.
Also in the same book, Madeline Bassett asks, 'Bertie, are you going straight now?', to which Bertie's response is 'I laughed one of those gay debonair ones.' Despite the fact that Madeline's question ostensibly referred to Bertie's penchant for stealing policemen's helmets, it feels sweet to imagine that between the above lines in the canon, Sir Plum had discretely blessed the two beloved characters with a happily ever after.
Some of the fandom also expands on their connection on a platonic note, with Wooster being the heart and Jeeves the mind of the adorable two. Either way, some of the fan stories add to the pure joy of walking a little deeper into the wonderful world of Wodehouse. Sadly, this novel, despite being an authorised addition, feels rather disconnected from that cosy little world.
When this novel authorised by the Wodehouse literary estate came out in 2013, I had picked it up with much interest, but was unable to finish it then, because the voices of the main characters did not ring true to the original voices the master had bestowed upon them. Perhaps one expects a lot from an official pastiche, but Bertie's voice, despite using the same slang of the 1920s and the old familiar expressions in the canon, somehow ends up sounding like a parody that makes it painful to continue reading, especially when it tries to evoke the sublime cadence of the original but does not get it quite right.
Meanwhile, a small fandom continues to pen fanfiction on Jeeves and Wooster for the pure joy of mimicking the master's voice and imagining new stories set in the delightful world of Wodehouse. Most fanfiction remains just that, but a select few explore the nuances of the dynamics between the two main characters, the childlike Wooster and the Machiavellian Jeeves who is devoted to his 'mentally negligible' employer, beyond the canon. These stories look deeper into Wooster's life and his interactions with family and friends, and lay bare how no one in his circle really cares for him though they do not hesitate to take advantage of him. The fandom delves deeper into the wealthy orphan Bertie's feelings about his life, despite the way he remains big-hearted and kind to the friends and family who use him, and brings in new shades of character development through themes of angst, hurt, comfort, and connection that he finds through the one who is closest to him, his own valet.
Hence it is interesting but not surprising to note that a majority of the fandom ships Jeeves and Wooster as a couple, which on reading between the lines of the canon novels seems a likely possibility. To cite a few observations, Jeeves is a member of the 'Ganymede club', the name Ganymede often being an allusion to gay love. The way Jeeves serenades Wooster with quotes from Shakespeare when the two come across each other in a garden at night in 'Joy in the Morning'. The conversation between Jeeves and Wooster in the last pages of 'Jeeves and the tie that binds' which implies that the duo will be together for life.
Also in the same book, Madeline Bassett asks, 'Bertie, are you going straight now?', to which Bertie's response is 'I laughed one of those gay debonair ones.' Despite the fact that Madeline's question ostensibly referred to Bertie's penchant for stealing policemen's helmets, it feels sweet to imagine that between the above lines in the canon, Sir Plum had discretely blessed the two beloved characters with a happily ever after.
Some of the fandom also expands on their connection on a platonic note, with Wooster being the heart and Jeeves the mind of the adorable two. Either way, some of the fan stories add to the pure joy of walking a little deeper into the wonderful world of Wodehouse. Sadly, this novel, despite being an authorised addition, feels rather disconnected from that cosy little world.
Jesting Pilate by Aldous Huxley
Jesting Pilate, a travelogue across six countries ought to have been a very dated book considering how much the world it describes has changed in the hundred years since it was first published, but I found many parts of it, especially about India to be surprisingly relevant for 2025.
Huxley's observations about India made me laugh, frown and shake my head at some of his broad and rather simplistic generalisations, but much of the time I found myself nodding in agreement for little seems to have changed. He wryly observes how Macaulay-educated Indians aspire to little more than safe clerical jobs, and empathises that while bulls and cows are protected from direct killing, they are often subject to neglect and animal cruelty. His observations on cleanliness and hygiene in India with philosophical asides to the views of Tolstoy and Voltaire on work and life, made me cringe with shame about the veracity of his statements which are sadly relevant to the country even today, despite all the development and overall prosperity and improved quality of living. Huxley is perhaps right to some extent when he declares that spirituality is the cause of India's problems, saying 'A little less spirituality, and the Indians would now be free— free from foreign dominion and from the tyranny of their own prejudices and traditions'. One presumes that he is referring to the religious practices of the crowds thronging the temples and rivers and not about the Indian spiritual texts, considering how he would later go on to study Vedanta and give lectures on it. While ancient India was obviously part of a sophisticated civilisation as can be seen from the magnificent temples and the depth of knowledge in the Sanskrit texts of yore, it is painful to agree with the author who implied a hundred years ago that many Indians could do with a few lessons in the basics of civilised behaviour.
Huxley does not spare the Western world either, placidly noting how 'in modern America the Rome of Cato and the Rome of Heliogabalus co-exist and flourish with an unprecedented vitality'. He calls the Hollywood films of his time as depicting stories of a 'crude, immature, childish world' and 'a grotesquely garbled account of our civilisation' and suggests an interesting view that the West in his time was not 'materialistic enough' and such materialism that is 'a preoccupation with the actual world in which we live' is desirable, even admirable.
His concluding note has some of the most beautiful paragraphs that I ever read in a travel book:
"if travel brings a conviction of human diversity, it brings an equally strong conviction of human unity. It inculcates tolerance, but it also shows what are the limits of possible toleration. Religions and moral codes, forms of government and of society are almost endlessly varied, and each has a right to its separate existence. But a oneness underlies this diversity. All men, whatever their beliefs, their habits, their way of life, have a sense of values. And the values are everywhere and in all kinds of society broadly the same. Goodness, beauty, wisdom and knowledge, with the human possessors of these qualities, the human creators of things and thoughts endowed with them, have always and everywhere been honoured."
Despite a few colonial affectations (which sound more amusing than elitist considering the time period he belonged to), Huxley comes across as a witty, erudite and decent Englishman not unlike the novelist Wilkie Collins who envisioned Indians empowering themselves to reclaim their legacy in his fiction. Huxley describes the poet Sarojini Naidu as combining 'in the most remarkable way great intellectual power with charm, sweetness with courageous energy, a wide culture with originality, and earnestness with humour', a description that could be equally applied, most of the time, to his own tone of voice in this enjoyable and thought-provoking book.
Huxley's observations about India made me laugh, frown and shake my head at some of his broad and rather simplistic generalisations, but much of the time I found myself nodding in agreement for little seems to have changed. He wryly observes how Macaulay-educated Indians aspire to little more than safe clerical jobs, and empathises that while bulls and cows are protected from direct killing, they are often subject to neglect and animal cruelty. His observations on cleanliness and hygiene in India with philosophical asides to the views of Tolstoy and Voltaire on work and life, made me cringe with shame about the veracity of his statements which are sadly relevant to the country even today, despite all the development and overall prosperity and improved quality of living. Huxley is perhaps right to some extent when he declares that spirituality is the cause of India's problems, saying 'A little less spirituality, and the Indians would now be free— free from foreign dominion and from the tyranny of their own prejudices and traditions'. One presumes that he is referring to the religious practices of the crowds thronging the temples and rivers and not about the Indian spiritual texts, considering how he would later go on to study Vedanta and give lectures on it. While ancient India was obviously part of a sophisticated civilisation as can be seen from the magnificent temples and the depth of knowledge in the Sanskrit texts of yore, it is painful to agree with the author who implied a hundred years ago that many Indians could do with a few lessons in the basics of civilised behaviour.
Huxley does not spare the Western world either, placidly noting how 'in modern America the Rome of Cato and the Rome of Heliogabalus co-exist and flourish with an unprecedented vitality'. He calls the Hollywood films of his time as depicting stories of a 'crude, immature, childish world' and 'a grotesquely garbled account of our civilisation' and suggests an interesting view that the West in his time was not 'materialistic enough' and such materialism that is 'a preoccupation with the actual world in which we live' is desirable, even admirable.
His concluding note has some of the most beautiful paragraphs that I ever read in a travel book:
"if travel brings a conviction of human diversity, it brings an equally strong conviction of human unity. It inculcates tolerance, but it also shows what are the limits of possible toleration. Religions and moral codes, forms of government and of society are almost endlessly varied, and each has a right to its separate existence. But a oneness underlies this diversity. All men, whatever their beliefs, their habits, their way of life, have a sense of values. And the values are everywhere and in all kinds of society broadly the same. Goodness, beauty, wisdom and knowledge, with the human possessors of these qualities, the human creators of things and thoughts endowed with them, have always and everywhere been honoured."
Despite a few colonial affectations (which sound more amusing than elitist considering the time period he belonged to), Huxley comes across as a witty, erudite and decent Englishman not unlike the novelist Wilkie Collins who envisioned Indians empowering themselves to reclaim their legacy in his fiction. Huxley describes the poet Sarojini Naidu as combining 'in the most remarkable way great intellectual power with charm, sweetness with courageous energy, a wide culture with originality, and earnestness with humour', a description that could be equally applied, most of the time, to his own tone of voice in this enjoyable and thought-provoking book.
