Stanley Featherstone Ukridge is a different kind of hero than the more famous P G Wodehouse figures. Bertie Wooster, Jeeves and Sir Galahad may engage in certain questionable activities, but they are essentially bound by a code of honour. Ukridge is marked by a broader outlook on life. In other words, he’s a crook.
Doubtless this is why Wodehouse is so fond of him, and perhaps why other characters are more indulgent towards Ukridge than they should be. His friend, the writer James ‘Corky’ Corcoran is the most critical of Ukridge’s friends, and yet he writes the stories up, and always allows himself to be dragged into Ukridge’s schemes.
Beyond that there is the butler-turned-landlord , Bowles, an otherwise frosty figure who has a fatherly regard for Ukridge,. There is also George Tupper, a stuffy but kind mutual friend of Corky and Ukridge, who often unwisely lends a little support to Ukridge’s schemes in the misguided belief that the rascal will settle down.
We have always had a certain sneaking affection for the more cheeky members of the criminal classes, especially those we meet in fiction – the conmen, the shysters, the gentlemen burglars, even bank robbers and gangsters. We would be less happy with these characters if they were taking our money, but there is something glamorous or fun about those who live outside the system – the true individuals in a world of uniformity.
Ukridge is a comparatively minor crook. He engages in a few dishonest transactions without qualms, but his only real concern is trying to make money and an honest method will do just as well if it suits his purposes.
It is necessary that Ukridge’s schemes will come to nothing. If he succeeded, then the dynamic would change, and he would not be a penniless cadger and cheat. On the whole most of the stories are fairly predictable, but I will not spoil the fun by giving away the ending, as part of the fun is guessing.
The stories are a little like whodunits in that respect, but here it is more of a game of ‘What happens next?’ However while the various moneymaking scams will fail, they observe the basic rule of fiction, which is that you never simply use your experience from that failure to do the same thing again in a better way.
If a plan to train dogs to perform tricks falls through, why not get more dogs? If a syndicate chooses a member to injure himself so they can all claim accident insurance, and he lets them down, why not get another member of the syndicate to do it?
If I was a psychoanalyst, I would suggest that Ukridge does not really want his plans to work, as this would change his life and make him dull and respectable. (Obviously the real reason is simpler – it would be a poor collection of stories if Ukridge did the same thing again and again.)
The exception here is the three stories concerning Battling Billson, a boxer that Ukridge tries to manage. Unfortunately the temperamental pugilist alternates between soft sentimentality and fierce fighting, always engaging in one when he should be doing the other.
Given that this scheme depends on a fickle character who is more likely to let Ukridge down than anyone in Ukridge’s other schemes, we may wonder at Ukridge's faith in Billson. Again if I wanted to play the psychoanalyst, I would say that is precisely why Ukridge uses him so much. He doesn't want Billson to succeed.
That does make the three Battling Billson stories a little samey, but to an extent all the stories follow the same basic narrative. Ukridge comes up with a scheme that is unscrupulous but ingenious. Something goes wrong with it, and he loses.
The exception tends to be the stories where Ukridge is helping a woman. The Wodehouse hero is often a bachelor who a certain gallantry towards women but not really much affection for them. Women in Wodehouse are formidable matriarchs, or enthusiastic and likeable young ladies who drag our hero into their schemes without any real concern what happens to him. Working class women are vulgar and loud.
Ukridge is unusual in that he does have dalliances with women, but not to the point of settling down with any. Jeeves had his moments too, but Ukridge seems serious. Indeed the last woman in this story eventually marries Ukridge (in an earlier novel, but Wodehouse hastily sets the stories before this time so that his hero is not encumbered with a spouse).
Off the top of my head I cannot remember any Wodehouse hero who is married. Agatha Christie favoured unmarried detectives, but even she included one crime-solving couple. Wodehouse’s imagination does not extend to the portrayal of married life, except among supporting characters.
Indeed Wodehouse’s imagination is limited in a number of ways. If all these stories are essentially the same one told ten times, then some would say that all Wodehouse’s 90-odd books are the same stories told 90-odd times. That might be unfair but he often uses the same stock characters and plot situations.
Worse still, Wodehouse recycles any nice phrase he used in an earlier book, and re-uses the same quotations from other writers. No matter what decade Wodehouse writes in, you cannot expect to see any allusion to a poet whose works did not come out after the beginning of the twentieth century.
It is as if Wodehouse never added a new book to his library after 1920. Indeed given that Wodehouse literally reuses the same lines, one wonders if his library only comprises a very small book of quotations.
Still Wodehouse does have a gift for telling nicely-crafted stories. Consider ‘The Exit of Battling Billson’. Here is a summary of the opening of the story. While reporting on the sermon of a religious revivalist in an obscure Welsh town, Corky runs into Ukridge, who has just been ejected from a theatre after an altercation with a man who stole his seat, and who tells Corky that he is again managing Battling Billson.
Now in that last sentence, there is not a single piece of incidental detail. Every single thing I mentioned is important to the story. Wodehouse leave no room for waste here.
Overall this is a pleasing collection of stories. They betray their magazine origins, as Wodehouse often repeats details that we might be expected to remember when reading them in a single book but would not know if we picked them up in magazine serial instalments. There is nothing startlingly original or unexpected in the stories, but they have their share of amusing moments.