Whence dost the magic of Master Wodehouse flow forth? For His flair for cleansing souls, ironing corrugated brows, and encouraging all and sundry to flash their teeth sets in ecstatic gaiety is unquestionably magical.
One of these faerie sources is frivolity. In the real world, there might be negative connotations to the word, but in Wodehouse's Land of Joy it's one of the primary foundations. The reason for this is that the reasons why we might condemn frivolous behaviour, such as the solemnity of a certain occasion or the desperate need for Truth, are very much absent in the Master's works. The latter are devoid of funereal dos and po-faced soul-searching, but, amazingly enough, this enables Plum to exploit the words of English language to its utmost, semantically speaking. When he uses expressions such as "monstrous" or "diabolical," or makes a reference to burning decks, leonine dens or winter winds that bloweth, they are not "diluted" by our imagination, which at least would be the case with me, if I knew that, say, "monstrous" was applied in a serious story to a drunken father, which in itself would be of course tragic and indeed monstrous, but in the case of Wodehouse, "monstrous" would gain simplified yet infinitely more devilish proportions. Similarly, when he describes the beauty of nature, it appears stunning in its simple beauty.
To continue with the theme of frivolity, adapting such an approach as P.G. has done enables the author to rid the stories of possible didactic or moralising aspects, which sometimes have the danger of rubbing the reader the wrong way. In addition to that, sometimes I'm a bit bummed when a highly vivid story can be reduced into a simple maxim or moral. (This is naturally a simplification, and I love stories with a purpose as much as the next chap, but the point I'm trying to make is that such inclusions add depth to the story, and this depth isn't always harmless.) Now, I feel that Wodehouse does not wittingly attempt to teach us a lesson of any kind with his humorous works. He just offers us a raucous laugh in a stress-free place of isolation.
Now, secondly, the sorcery springs from Plum's usage of language and the synergy of his characters. The interplay between the snappy dialogue teeming with high register expressions and the Wodehousian vernacular, and the proportionately more lengthy narrative paragraphs, which give the author the leeway to harness his stock of allusions and ingenious techniques, converts the text into a feather-light mix of pure joy, the essence of fun. His writing is indeed so smooth, that it gets even slippery at times, making me glide accidentally into the next sentence before drinking in the previous one!
Synergy plays a very important part in making these books the masterpieces they are. The fact that every character basically understands the lexicon and allusions of each other effortlessly eliminates any possible friction there might be. What I mean by this is, that if someone suddenly started to disparage the Edwardian slang with its marvellous what hos and teuf teufs, it would sort of dampen the fun of it all. Of course, certain pugnacious female relatives are always wont to tick their nephews off for their use of the language of Shakespeare for their own wastrelly purposes, but that has more to do with the role of the said angry relatives than causing a rift in the overall synergy.
The third aspect is that everything in Wodehouse's stories seems to have a certain consciousness. Whether it's a moody beetle who's just dodges a petulant and most definitely unwarranted kick from a member of the human species, a passing fly sneering at bustling earls or the sunshine having a conspicuously conspiratorial air, the whole of the world of Wodehouse just seems to be so very much alive! This personification creates a sort of absurd yet deliberate feeling which, I feel, is wholly unique to Master W.
Beg your pardon for the general expatiation. I merely wanted to use this review as a mirror for my adulation for this fantastic author and his oeuvre. And If I Were You is a jolly good addition to it, even if it falls a little short from most. The rationale for the 4 stars lies mostly in the domains of the "firstly" and "secondly" of my pompous preamble. Firstly, the passages where Tony felt the qualms kick in and begun to brood on the injustice meted out to Syd were very outre and out-of-place in a book of this sort. It added the dreaded "depth," even just for a second, but it was enough to jab a little crack in the beautiful glass sculpture of frivolity. Secondly, the first few chapters of the story were strangely lacking in the rich narrative paragraphs. The upshot was that those chapters felt more like a play, and not a very balanced one at that.
The loss of one star does not necessarily mean much. If I Were You still made me chuckle, chortle and fall about, in accordance with the decorum of Wodehouse readers. And it's somehow refreshing to read something that doesn't include Bertie or Lord Emsworth for a change, just to see what the other habitats of P.G.'s realm of sunshine and warmth look like.