Why One of My Favorite Books is a P. G. Wodehouse

Take a man of naturally quixotic temperament, a man of chivalrous instincts and a feeling for romance, and cut him off for five years from the exercise of those qualities, and you get an accumulated store of foolishness only comparable to an escape of gas in a sealed room or a cellarful of dynamite.

A Damsel in Distress, p 48

P. G. Wodehouse

The world knows P. G. Wodehouse for Jeeves. But, my favorite Wodehouse work is a standalone called A Damsel in Distress. This one I find hilarious because it’s A Comedy of Errors (Shakespeare), Lady Susan (Jane Austen), and Keeping Up Appearances all in the same novel. 

If you don’t recognize that last title, it’s an excellent sitcom from the 90s starring Patricia Routledge that deals with a woman’s rather hilarious attempts at social climbing. If Wodehouse is too far removed for you, this is a good primer. 

I discovered Damsel years ago. I don’t remember when, but it’s one I still enjoy reading, no matter how many times before I’ve done so. It doesn’t get old, however hard I try to make it so. 

In A Damsel in Distress, George Bevan, an American composer, crosses paths with Lady Patricia Maud Marsh (Maud) when the latter leaps into his cab in Piccadilly in order to not encounter her rather pompous (and porculent) brother Percy, Lord Belpher. This begins a comedy of errors full of interfering family members, women changing their minds, a budding romance between a would-be aristocrat and his uncle’s secretary, and the eventual relationship between George and Maud themselves. 

Trust me, this all makes sense when you read the book. Like any good Wodehouse, there are a lot of comings and goings. 

Deceptive appearances are often our own fault. 

‘It must have been the same man’

‘Precisely. If we wanted further proof, he was an American. You recollect that we heard that the man in Wales was American.’

Exchange between Lord Belpher (Percy) and Lady Caroline.

A Damsel in Distress, page 64

P. G. Wodehouse

As with the original Comedy of Errors by Shakespeare, most of the mistaken identity in the novel comes because the people act all too human. In fact, they act contrary to what an outside observer expects people to act. 

For instance, when Lord Belpher see Maud get into the cab with Geroge, he automatically assumed George is the same American Maud fell in love with on a trip to Wales some months before. To them, one American is very much like another and since they’d never met or inquired very much about Geoffrey Raymond, Maud’s original love interest, they assume that George Bevan is the same person. One American is very like another, right? 

Now, we may all think we’d not make the same assumptions, but if you’ve spent any amount of time in social media, then you know that’s simply not the case. We assume things about other people on a continual basis in much the same way Percy assumes George Bevan is the same American that his sister fell in love with. 

For instance, take any of the mainstream issues being pushed as an “outrage.” It doesn’t really matter which one, because social media figures from the entire socio-political spectrum easily fall into the same trap. So many people are ready to judge an entire person and their life based upon one obscure or, incorrect definition of a word. 

To the more flippant, A Damsel in Distress is too unbelievable to work. But then, to the more flippant, the only comedy that works is comedy that insults whatever group they don’t agree with. It’s ok to make jokes about that group of people––but don’t you dare make jokes about this whole list of other people. Let’s not even delve into the fact that TikTok is nothing but outrageous behavior. 

And most of it isn’t even as fun as Lord Belpher’s ditch march in a feeble attempt at espionage. 

Generational divides are in every age. 

Practically since my generation started entering the workforce, or rather, since the younger millennials started entering the workforce, lifestyle blogs like BuzzFeed or Refinery29 like to recycle articles about the difference between “Boomers” and “Millennial” as if it’s something new. 

It’s not. Wodehouse’s books stand testament to that alone. In the worlds of Belpher and Blandings, of Jeeves and Wooster, there’s another generational divide. This one between what would come to be known as the “Greatest” Generation and the Victorians. In the late 19th and early 20th century, there was another time of upheaval going on between the generations. 

In most Wodehouse books, there is a stern, formidable aunt in the background still trying to manage the family, according to a set of standards that was quickly becoming archaic. In Damsel, this is Lady Caroline. And Lady Caroline vociferously objects to Maud’s attachment to the penniless American she met in Wales. 

Just as she objects to Lord Marshmorton’s preoccupation with his rose garden. It’s not fitting for an aristocrat. 

Lady Caroline would much prefer Maud to fall in love with Reggie. Reggie is Caroline’s stepson. Much more suitable. But why? Because it keeps Reggie’s fortune in the family and, therefore, within easy reach of Maud’s brother Percy and Lady Caroline herself. Not to mention it looks good. It’s more in keeping with an aristocratic society. 

Which is why she insists Lord Marshmorton spend more time on a history of the family than his rose garden. Not realizing, of course, that the rose garden made him more likable and approachable than a stuffy history of the family. 

What Lady Caroline doesn’t understand is that the aristocratic world order of her heyday was being replaced. The old alliances and ways of doing things were no longer necessary for survival either economically or socially. Not unlike the Boomer vs Millennial debate of the 2010s. 

The lady gets a say. 

‘You’ve been very wonderful…Right from the beginning…You’ve been…oh, what’s the use of me saying anything?’

‘I’ve had my reward, I’ve known you.’

Maud and George part ways.

A Damsel in Distress, p. 237

P. G. Wodehouse

The lady’s choice matters in this book. Choice itself matters. There are several pairings in the book that are from choice, not obligation. It’s bucolic in the most wonderful way. Like an Austen novel, it’s a simple pleasure you can take down and enjoy over and over again.

Damsel is how the relationship between George Bevan and Maud Marsh plays out. Maud starts the book loving a man she’d only met once and who the audience never sees until the second-to-last chapter of the book. She sees her love for Geoffrey as a free choice, with no one else in her family having a say. 

It’s part of what makes George Bevan so enamored with her. That, and the old chivalric impulse to help damsels in distress. Yes, I know today that’s supposed to be sexist and any other “-ist” you care to name but those who claim all the “-ists” don’t actually take the time to actually enjoy having a stranger show consideration, yes even if it is because he’s a man and you’re a woman. 

I can still remember an acquaintance of mine exclaiming how wonderful it was, coming from elsewhere in the country, when she had the door held open for her for the first time. She was hooked. And when you stop yourself from jumping to conclusions to just bask in the moment, yes, having the gentleman ahead of you holding the door open is addictive. Especially if he stands off to the side while doing so. 

If you get yourself into that frame of mind, then perhaps you’ll understand George Bevan a little more. He helps Maud not because it’s convenient or because he expects her to love him for his actions. It’s action with a purpose where he has no expectations. Chivalric, yes. Chauvinistic, no. 

Like any good Austen leading man, he never begrudges her choice. When Maud still rebuffs him for Geoffrey, he gallantly steps aside and allows her to go after the man she thinks she loves. He doesn’t call her names, doesn’t think of her any less, and stoically decides to let her forget him. 

And, like any good comedy, Maud realizing her mistake and running back to George is the final hilarious crescendo. Think Notting Hill with Hugh Grant rushing through London traffic to the Savoy type comedy. Without some crooning voice singing in the background when the lady assents.

So, if you haven’t, I recommend you pick up a copy of A Damsel in Distress and read it when you really need a good pick-me-up. Only, be sure it’s pre-2023. The censors will doubtless have been at work again, and I think we’ve had enough of the diet food in real life to put up with it when we want a little light reading. 

Join my mailing list!

There’s always something going on in the background. Get a peek behind the scenes with my intermittent newsletter.