A fine collection of short stories. Fine, though they were about golf, a sport I don't prefer. But you don't read Wodehouse for the golf. You read him for his inimitable mastery of the English language.
Favorite quotes:
"Bradbury had never liked his wives' mothers. His first wife, he recalled, had had a particularly objectionable mother. So had his second, third, and fourth. And the present holder of the title appeared to him to be scratch. She had a habit of sniffing in a significant way whenever she looked at him, and this can never make for a spirit of easy comradeship between man and woman. Given a free hand, he would have tied a brick to her neck and dropped her in the water-hazard at the second; but, realizing that this was but a Utopian dream, he sensibly decided to make the best of things and to content himself with jumping out of window whenever she came into a room in which he happened to be sitting" (p.71).
"'I beg your pardon?' he said, stiffly.
'I did not speak.'
'I thought you did.'
'I merely inhaled. I simply drew in air through my nostrils. If I am not at liberty to draw in air through my nostrils in your house, pray inform me.'
'I would prefer that you didn't,' said Bradbury, between set teeth.
'Then I would suffocate.'
'Yes,' said Bradbury Fisher" (p.86).
"[His club was just coming down for a swing] when the world became full of shouts of 'Fore!' and something hard smote him violently on the seat of his plus-fours.
The supreme tragedies of life leave us momentarily stunned. For an instant which seemed an age Chester could not understand what had happened. True, he realised that there had been an earthquake, a cloud-burst, and a railway accident, and that a high building had fallen on him at the exact moment when somebody had shot him with a gun, but these happenings would account for only a small part of his sensations. He blinked several times, and rolled his eyes wildly. And it was while rolling them that he caught sight of the gesticulating Wrecking Crew on the lower slopes and found enlightenment. Simultaneously, he observed his ball only a yard and a half from where it had been when he addressed it" (p.118).
"To the philosophical student of golf like myself (said the Oldest Member) perhaps the most outstanding virtue of this noble pursuit is the fact that it is a medicine for the soul. Its great service to humanity is that it teaches human beings that, whatever petty triumphs they may have achieved in other walks of life, they are after all merely human. It acts as a corrective against sinful pride. I attribute the insane arrogance of the later Roman emperors almost entirely to the fact that, never having played golf, they never knew that strange chastening humility which is engendered by a topped chip-shot. If Cleopatra had been outed in the first round of the Ladies' Singles, we should have heard a lot less of her proud imperiousness" (p.124).
"He dived into an alleyway of dead clothing, dug for a moment, and emerged with something at the sight of which Wallace Chesney, hardened golfer that he was, blenched and threw up an arm defensively.
'No, no!' he cried.
The object which Lou Cohen was waving insinuatingly before his eyes was a pair of those golfing breeches which are technically known as Plus Fours. A player of two years' standing, Wallace Chesney was not unfamiliar with Plus Fours – all the club cracks wore them – but he had never seen Plus Fours like these. What might be termed the main motif of the fabric was a curious vivid pink, and with this to work on the architect had let his imagination run free, and had produced so much variety in the way of chessboard squares of white, yellow, violet, and green that the eye swam as it looked upon them.
'These were made to measure for Sandy McHoots, the Open Champion,' said Lou, stroking the left leg lovingly. 'But he sent 'em back for some reason or other.'
'Perhaps they frightened the children,' said Wallace, recollecting having heard that Mr McHoots was a married man" (pp.127-128).
"'Just the girl I wanted to see,' said Raymond. 'Miss Dix, I represent a select committee of my fellow-members, and I have come to ask you on their behalf to use the influence of a good woman to induce Wally to destroy those Plus Fours of his, which we all consider nothing short of Bolshevik propaganda and a menace to the public weal. May I rely on you?'" (p.131).
"'Hullo, old girl!' said William, affectionately. 'You back? What have you been doing with yourself?'
'Oh, shopping,' said Jane listlessly.
'See anyone you knew?'
For a moment Jane hesitated.
'Yes,' she said. 'I met Rodney Spelvin.'
Jealousy and suspicion had been left entirely out of William Bates's make-up. He did not start and frown; he did not clutch the arm of his chair; he merely threw back his head and laughed like a hyaena. And that laugh wounded Jane more than the most violent exhibition of mistrust could have done.
'Good Lord!' gurgled William, jovially. 'You don't mean to say that bird is still going around loose? I should have thought he would have been lynched years ago. Looks like negligence somewhere'" (p.206).