Apparently I’m in the minority here, but I wasn’t that thrilled by this installment in the Jeeves and Bertie Wooster saga. Though it is only the second Jeeves novel, it comes about 20 years into P.G. Wodehouse’s publishing career, but it still felt rather immature. The story is very episodic, leapfrogging around both in time and space. Jeeves and Bertie go from London to France and back, London to New York and back, and from London out into the country at least three times. It’s almost enough to give you whiplash. In the later Jeeves/Woosters that I’ve read, they usually start in London and travel to someone’s county estate, and for the most part stay there. This novel reads more like a collection of interconnected stories, with the unifying theme of Bingo Little’s habit of falling in love with every girl he meets. All that is not to say I didn’t like the book, despite my rating it a 2; I would have given 2.5 if I could have, but it annoyed me too much to deserve a 3.