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The Code of the Woosters (Vintage) Taschenbuch – 12. November 1975
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- Seitenzahl der Print-Ausgabe240 Seiten
- SpracheEnglisch
- HerausgeberVintage
- Erscheinungstermin12. November 1975
- Abmessungen10.67 x 1.22 x 17.45 cm
- ISBN-100394720288
- ISBN-13978-0394720289
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“Bertie and Jeeves are at their best in The Code of the Woosters.” --Newsweek
From the Trade Paperback edition.
Über den Autor und weitere Mitwirkende
From the Trade Paperback edition.
Leseprobe. Abdruck erfolgt mit freundlicher Genehmigung der Rechteinhaber. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.
I reached out a hand from under the blankets, and rang the bell for Jeeves.
'Good evening, Jeeves.'
'Good morning, sir.'
This surprised me.
'Is it morning?'
'Yes, sir.'
'Are you sure? It seems very dark outside.'
'There is a fog, sir. If you will recollect, we are now in Autumn -- season of mists and mellow fruitfulness.'
'Season of what?'
'Mists, sir, and mellow fruitfulness.'
'Oh? Yes. Yes, I see. Well, be that as it may, get me one of those bracers of yours, will you?'
'I have one in readiness, sir, in the ice-box.'
He shimmered out, and I sat up in bed with that rather unpleasant feeling you get sometimes that you're going to die in about five minutes. On the previous night, I had given a little dinner at the Drones to Gussie Fink-Nottle as a friendly send-off before his approaching nuptials with Madeline, only daughter of Sir Watkyn Bassett, CBE, and these things take their toll. Indeed, just before Jeeves came in, I had been dreaming that some bounder was driving spikes through my head -- not just ordinary spikes, as used by Jael the wife of Heber, but red-hot ones.
He returned with the tissue-restorer. I loosed it down the hatch, and after undergoing the passing discomfort, unavoidable when you drink Jeeves's patent morning revivers, of having the top of the skull fly up to the ceiling and the eyes shoot out of their sockets and rebound from the opposite wall like racquet balls, felt better. It would have been overstating it to say that even now Bertram was back again in mid-season form, but I had at least slid into the convalescent class and was equal to a spot of conversation.
'Ha!' I said, retrieving the eyeballs and replacing them in position. 'Well, Jeeves, what goes on in the great world? Is that the paper you have there?'
'No, sir. It is some literature from the Travel Bureau. I thought that you might care to glance at it.'
'Oh?' I said. 'You did, did you?'
And there was a brief and -- if that's the word I want -- pregnant silence.
I suppose that when two men of iron will live in close association with one another, there are bound to be occasional clashes, and one of these had recently popped up in the Wooster home. Jeeves was trying to get me to go on a Round-The-World cruise, and I would have none of it. But in spite of my firm statements to this effect, scarcely a day passed without him bringing me a sheaf or nosegay of those illustrated folders which the Ho-for-the-open-spaces birds send out in the hope of drumming up custom. His whole attitude recalled irresistibly to the mind that of some assiduous hound who will persist in laying a dead rat on the drawing-room carpet, though repeatedly apprised by word and gesture that the market for same is sluggish or even non-existent.
'Jeeves,' I said, 'this nuisance must now cease.'
'Travel is highly educational, sir.'
'I can't do with any more education. I was full up years ago. No, Jeeves, I know what's the matter with you. That old Viking strain of yours has come out again. You yearn for the tang of the salt breezes. You see yourself walking the deck in a yachting cap. Possibly someone has been telling you about the Dancing Girls of Bali. I understand, and I sympathize. But not for me. I refuse to be decanted into any blasted ocean-going liner and lugged off round the world.'
'Very good, sir.'
He spoke with a certain what-is-it in his voice, and I could see that, if not actually disgruntled, he was far from being gruntled, so I tactfully changed the subject.
'Well, Jeeves, it was quite a satisfactory binge last night.'
'Indeed, sir?'
'Oh, most. An excellent time was had by all. Gussie sent his regards.'
'I appreciate the kind thought, sir. I trust Mr Fink-Nottle was in good spirits?'
'Extraordinarily good, considering that the sands are running out and that he will shortly have Sir Watkyn Bassett for a father-in-law. Sooner him than me, Jeeves, sooner him than me.'
I spoke with strong feeling, and I'll tell you why. A few months before, while celebrating Boat Race night, I had fallen into the clutches of the Law for trying to separate a policeman from his helmet, and after sleeping fitfully on a plank bed had been hauled up at Bosher Street next morning and fined five of the best. The magistrate who had inflicted this monstrous sentence -- to the accompaniment, I may add, of some very offensive remarks from the bench -- was none other than old Pop Bassett, father of Gussie's bride-to-be.
As it turned out, I was one of his last customers, for a couple of weeks later he inherited a pot of money from a distant relative and retired to the country. That, at least, was the story that had been put about. My own view was that he had got the stuff by sticking like glue to the fines. Five quid here, five quid there -- you can see how it would mount up over a period of years.
'You have not forgotten that man of wrath, Jeeves? A hard case, eh?'
'Possibly Sir Watkyn is less formidable in private life, sir.'
'I doubt it. Slice him where you like, a hellhound is always a hellhound. But enough of this Bassett. Any letters today?'
'No, sir.'
'Telephone communications?'
'One, sir. From Mrs Travers.'
'Aunt Dahlia? She's back in town, then?'
'Yes, sir. She expressed a desire that you would ring her up at your earliest convenience.'
'I will do even better,' I said cordially. 'I will call in person.'
And half an hour later I was toddling up the steps of her residence and being admitted by old Seppings, her butler. Little knowing, as I crossed that threshold, that in about two shakes of a duck's tail I was to become involved in an imbroglio that would test the Wooster soul as it had seldom been tested before. I allude to the sinister affair of Gussie Fink-Nottle, Madeline Bassett, old Pop Bassett, Stiffy Byng, the Rev. H. P. ('Stinker') Pinker, the eighteenth-century cow-creamer and the small, brown, leather-covered notebook.
*
No premonition of an impending doom, however, cast a cloud on my serenity as I buzzed in. I was looking forward with bright anticipation to the coming reunion with this Dahlia -- she, as I may have mentioned before, being my good and deserving aunt, not to be confused with Aunt Agatha, who eats broken bottles and wears barbed wire next to the skin. Apart from the mere intellectual pleasure of chewing the fat with her, there was the glittering prospect that I might be able to cadge an invitation to lunch. And owing to the outstanding virtuosity of Anatole, her French cook, the browsing at her trough is always of a nature to lure the gourmet.
The door of the morning room was open as I went through the hall, and I caught a glimpse of Uncle Tom messing about with his collection of old silver. For a moment I toyed with the idea of pausing to pip-pip and enquire after his indigestion, a malady to which he is extremely subject, but wiser counsels prevailed. This uncle is a bird who, sighting a nephew, is apt to buttonhole him and become a bit informative on the subject of sconces and foliation, not to mention scrolls, ribbon wreaths in high relief and gadroon borders, and it seemed to me that silence was best. I whizzed by, accordingly, with sealed lips, and headed for the library, where I had been informed that Aunt Dahlia was at the moment roosting.
I found the old flesh-and-blood up to her Marcel-wave in proof sheets. As all the world knows, she is the courteous and popular proprietress of a weekly sheet for the delicately nurtured entitled Milady's Boudoir. I once contributed an article to it on 'What The Well-Dressed Man Is Wearing'.
My entry caused her to come to the surface, and she greeted me with one of those cheery view-halloos which, in the...
Produktinformation
- Herausgeber : Vintage (12. November 1975)
- Sprache : Englisch
- Taschenbuch : 240 Seiten
- ISBN-10 : 0394720288
- ISBN-13 : 978-0394720289
- Abmessungen : 10.67 x 1.22 x 17.45 cm
- Kundenrezensionen:
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Ich lache gerne - und bei Wodehouse kann man immer wieder lachen !
Bertie Wooster turns to Aunt Dahlia to help out Gussie. With Michael Hordern.
2/7 The Small Leather-covered Notebook
Gussie Fink-Nottle causes botheration for Bertie Wooster. With Michael Hordern.
3/7 The Plot Thickens
Bertie Wooster is swept up in a world of fake heroics. With Michael Hordern.
4/7 Spode's Fangs Are Drawn
Bertie must face angry relatives and awkward misunderstandings. With Michael Hordern.
5/7 Strange Behaviour of a Curate
Bertie and Jeeves find themselves on the top of a wardrobe. With Michael Hordern.
6/7 The Course of True Love
Bertie comes a cropper while trying to rescue Gussie's notebook. With Michael Hordern.
7/7 A Wrongful Arrest
When Bertie is accused of theft, Jeeves is on hand. With Michael Hordern.
Tanta Dahlia hat einen neuen Auftrag für Bertie Whooster. Er soll in einen Antiquitätenladen gehen und ein silbernes Milchkännchen in Form einer Kuh schlecht machen, damit Tante Dahlias Gatte diesen günstiger erstehen kann. Leider hat auch Sir Watkyn, ebenfalls ein Sammler von antikem Silber, es auf dieses Kuhkännchen abgesehen und schnappt es Bertie vor der Nase weg.
Tante Dahlia ist empört und verlangt von Bertie nach Totleigh Towers zu fahren und das Kuhmilchkännchen zu stehlen, sonst darf er nie wieder bei ihr zu Abend essen, und Dhalias Koch ist der beste in London. Auf Totleigh Towers steht es jedoch nicht zum Besten. Die Verlobung zwischen Gussie und Madeline Bassett (Sir Watkyn's Tochter) steht vor dem Aus, den Gussi hat ein Notizbuch verloren, in deme r ziemlich fiese Dinge über seinen zukünftigen Schwiegervater und diverse andere Anverwandte notiert hat. Dieses wurde von Stiffy Byng gefunden und Gussi dachte, sie hätte es im Strumpf versteckt… Währenddessen verlangt Stiffy von Bertie, wenn er das Notizbuch will, das Kuhkännchen zu stehlen, damit „Stinker“, der örtliche Vikar, ihn dabei erwischen und verprügeln kann und so in der Gunst von Sir Watkyn steigt. Dummerweise wurde Bertie bereits bei seinem ersten Diebstahlsversuch erwischt und die Kännchen wird nun von der Polizei bewacht.
Chaotisch, verwickelt und abgedreht, das beschreibt diese Geschichte wohl am besten. Es wird nicht einfacher dadurch, dass alle zwar miteinander irgendwie verwandt sind, aber das über diverse mehrfahre Ehen und daher alle unterschiedliche Nachnamen haben. Da aber alle Sprecher sehr unterschiedliche, teils sehr überdrehte Stimmen haben und recht überzogen spielen, kann man sie gut unterscheiden und auseinanderhalten. Man sollte schon sehr gut Englisch können, ehe man diese Hörspiele hört, denn einige der Sprecher, allen voran der Richard Briers als Bertie, reden teils sehr schnell, affektiert und zudem im Slang der 20er und 30er Jahre.
Die Umsetzung ist gelungen wie bei den meisten BBC Hörspielen. Stimmige Klangkulisse, minimalistischer Einsatz von Musik (also fast gar keiner), grandiose Sprecher und eine witzige rasante Geschichte voller Verwicklungen und Verwirrungen. Man muss schon sehr aufmerksam zuhören, um all diesen Verwicklungen und vielen Personen folgen zu können, aber das Hörspiel ist so gut aufbereitet, das das auch ohne Kenntnis des gleichnamigen Buches aus dem Jahr 1938 problemlos möglich ist.
From the beginning, Bertie is up against impossible odds. Sent by his Aunt Dahlia to sneer at a Cow Creamer, Bertie dangerously bumps into Sir Watkyn Bassett, the magistrate who once fined him five guineas for copping a policeman's helmet on Boat Race night, and Roderick Spode, Britain's aspiring fascist dictator. The only trouble in this encounter is that Bertie is clutching the Cow Creamer on the sidewalk after having tripped on a cat and falling through the front door, and Sir Watkyn recognizes him as a former criminal. Barely escaping arrest on the spot, Bertie returns home to find that Aunt Dahlia wants him to debark immediately for Totley Towers where Sir Watkyn has just taken the Cow Creamer he has purchased after pulling a ruse on Uncle Tom. When there, Bertie is to steal the Cow Creamer. At the same time, he receives urgent telegrams from his old pal, Gussie Fink-Nottle, to come to Totley Towers to save his engagement to Madeleine Bassett. Bertie feels like he is being sent into the jaws of death.
Jeeves immediately fetches up a plot to get Madeleine Bassett, to whom he has been affianced twice, to invite Bertie to her father's home. Upon arriving, Sir Watkyn and Roderick Spode immediately catch him holding the Cow Creamer. Sir Watkyn threatens years in jail, until Madeleine comes in to rescue him. But Sir Watkyn proceeds to assume that everything that goes wrong from then is due to Bertie. For once, Bertie is the innocent party. But he takes the rap anyway, because of the code of the Woosters, never let a pal down.
Never has anyone had a goofier set of pals. Gussie Fink-Nottle has developed spiritually so that he has less fear, but his method of achieving this soon puts him in peril. Stephanie "Stiffy" Byng, Sir Watkyn's niece, has to be the goofiest acquaintance that Bertie has. She is a one-woman wrecking machine for creating havoc. Her fiance, another old pal of Bertie's, "Stinker" Pinker, the local curate, is only slightly better.
Just when you cannot see any way that Bertie can avoid gaol, Jeeves comes up with one brilliant plan after another. It's truly awe-inspiring as well as side-splittingly funny.
P.G. Wodehouse remarked that he preferred to write as though the subject were musical comedy, and he has certainly captured that mood here at its vibrant best. You'll be on the edge of your chair and trying to avoid falling on the floor laughing at the same time.
After you've followed more twists and turns than existed in the Labyrinth at Crete, consider how far you would go to save a pal . . . or to keep a secret . . . or to protect a loved one. What should the personal code be?
Be generous with your friends and to all humankind.
Spitzenrezensionen aus anderen Ländern


Many of the old favourite characters make an appearance with Aunt Dahlia as ebullient and strident as ever while Gussie Fink-Nottle and Madeleine Bassett continue their feeble meandering through the world. We also meet some new characters who will develop into central figures in the Wooster oeuvre: Sir Watkyn Bassett (former magistrate and father of the simpering Madeleine), Roderick Spode, would-be leader of men, and Stephanie ("Stiffy") Byng, neice and ward of Sir Watkyn and the owner of Bartholomew, the redoubtable Aberdeen terrier.
Roderick Spode is an interesting character as he represents almost the only instance of Wodehouse indulging in political satire. Spode is an aspiring politician and is clearly modelled on Sir Oswald Mosley, leading a far-right group called 'The Saviours of Britain' who roam the streets wearing black shorts (yes, shorts rather than shirts, because, as Gussie Fink-Nottle explains to Bertie, 'by the time Spode formed his association, there were no shirts left'. He does, however, have a dark, zealously-guarded secret which will become central to the plot. He has also worshipped Madeleine and has sworn to punish anyone who in any way mars her happiness.
There are some classic set pieces here, on a par with Gussie's speech to the Market Snodsbury school from Right Ho, Jeeves, including bertie's first encounter with Sir Watkyn Bassett and Spode in an antique shop in the Brompton Road and Constable Oates's misadventure while cycling unaware of Bartholomew's proximity.
As is always the case with Wodehouse's novels, and particularly the adventures of Bertie and Jeeves, the plot is sinuous to the point of defeating summary. Suffice it to say that it revolves around a hideous silver cow creamer! The numerous twists are deftly managed, and all of the loose ends are resolved in full.
Pure entertainment from start to finish.



This BBC dramatisation has exactly the same effect. Fans of the Fry & Laurie version of Jeeves and Wooster need have no qualms about buying this version. Richard Briers' Bertie is superb, and if Michael Hordern's Jeeves lacks emotion, then that is entirely as it should be. Spode is also utterly believable (no small feat for a Wodehouse character!), unlike in the ITV Fry and Laurie version, where the book was spread over two episodes in series 2.
This version is laugh-out-loud funny, and thoroughly recommendable.