An unorthodox biography of "the greatest comic writer ever" (Douglas Adams) and a window into the mind of a brilliant humorist.

He had an extraordinary Broadway career, wrote 90 novels and story collections, and among his immortal characters are Jeeves and the Empress of Blandings. McCrum's magisterial biography chronicles the achievements and shadows of a gilded life.

Ronald Psmith ( the p is silent, as in pshrimp ) is always willing to help a damsel in distress. So when he sees Eve Halliday without an umbrella during a downpour, he nobly offers her an umbrella, even though it s one he picks out of the Drone Club s umbrella rack. Psmith is so besotted with Eve that, when Lord Emsworth, her new boss, mistakes him for Ralston McTodd, a poet, Psmith pretends to be him so he can make his way to Blandings Castle and woo her. And so the farce begins: criminals disguised as poets with a plan to steal a priceless diamond necklace, a secretary who throws flower pots through windows, and a nighttime heist that ends in gunplay. How will everything be sorted out? Leave it to Psmith

Acclaimed author and lifelong Wodehouse admirer, Barry Day, tells the story of P. G. Wodehouse's life, through the comic master's own writing and with the help of Tony Ring, president of the International Wodehouse Association. Beautifully illustrated and full of the brilliant wordplay and hilarity that characterize Wodehouse's novels, stories, letters, and nonfiction, P.G. Wodehouse "In His Own Words" is the perfect companion to Overlook's sumptuous Wodehouse collection and a marvellous book in its own right.

'Wodehouse said letters make "a wonderful oblique form for an autobiography," and Sophie Ratcliffe's expertly edited collection amply proves the point.' Spectator One of the funniest and most admired writers of the twentieth century, P. G. Wodehouse always shied away from the idea of a biography. A quiet, retiring man, he expressed himself through the written word. His letters - collected here - provide an illuminating biographical accompaniment to legendary comic creations such as Jeeves, Wooster, Psmith and the Empress of Blandings. This is a book every lover of Wodehouse will want to possess. 'The letters, gossipy in the kindliest, amused/bemused manner, bear true witness to the wide-ranging influences on Wodehouse's' best-known novels and best-loved characters.' The Times

Jeeves—my man, you know—is really a most extraordinary chap. So capable. Honestly, I shouldn't know what to do without him. On broader lines he's like those chappies who sit peering sadly over the marble battlements at the Pennsylvania Station in the place marked "Inquiries." You know the Johnnies I mean. You go up to them and say: "When's the next train for Melonsquashville, Tennessee?" and they reply, without stopping to think, "Two-forty-three, track ten, change at San Francisco." And they're right every time. Well, Jeeves gives you just the same impression of omniscience. As an instance of what I mean, I remember meeting Monty Byng in Bond Street one morning, looking the last word in a grey check suit, and I felt I should never be happy till I had one like it. I dug the address of the tailors out of him, and had them working on the thing inside the hour. "Jeeves," I said that evening. "I'm getting a check suit like that one of Mr. Byng's." "Injudicious, sir," he said firmly. "It will not become you." "What absolute rot! It's the soundest thing I've struck for years." "Unsuitable for you, sir." Well, the long and the short of it was that the confounded thing came home, and I put it on, and when I caught sight of myself in the glass I nearly swooned. Jeeves was perfectly right. I looked a cross between a music-hall comedian and a cheap bookie. Yet Monty had looked fine in absolutely the same stuff. These things are just Life's mysteries, and that's all there is to it. But it isn't only that Jeeves's judgment about clothes is infallible, though, of course, that's really the main thing. The man knows everything. There was the matter of that tip on the "Lincolnshire." I forget now how I got it, but it had the aspect of being the real, red-hot tabasco. "Jeeves," I said, for I'm fond of the man, and like to do him a good turn when I can, "if you want to make a bit of money have something on Wonderchild for the 'Lincolnshire.'"