Wodehouse & the Needlessly Elaborate Scheme.

We lesser mortals can't aspire to write like P. G. Wodehouse, but we can learn from the Master and improve our craft. Especially if we are alleged humorists, like me. I may not be the greatest expert on Wodehouse around, but I am known as his biggest fan in the circles I move in.

A good writer is a great reader. The best fiction-writing lessons are not available in writing workshops or how-to books, but in the very novels  and stories we read. And the authors of these novels are our best teachers, even if they wouldn't want to, or don't have the time to, teach us. I learnt the craft of writing, and specifically how to write humour, from Wodehouse. 'Leave it to Psmith' was my primer.  LITP is a textbook of brilliant plotting, witty dialogue-writing and amazing style.

Wodehouse was, among other things, the master of the complex plot. And in many of his complex plots, especially in the 'Jeeves' stories, he makes his characters involved in an unnecessarily complex plan. Unnecessary and dangerous to the character's wellbeing, but absolutely necessary to the kind of laugh-a-minute farce Wodehouse wrote. While the main character or characters hatch a complicated plot, supporting characters take the already unlikely scheme to new, surreal heights.
 The plan isn't foolproof, just optimistic. And a realist may question the plan, cutting through the elaboration to put his or her finger on the nub. But it is highly unlikely to find a realist in a surreal story. The average Jeeves story is comfortably formulaic. Bertie Wooster, a man of private means and negligible intelligence, would have led a life that is one round of pleasure, if not for dominating aunts or aunt-like girls who rope him into perilous projects and situations, that get worse when Bertie takes matters into his own hands. The Code of the Woosters makes it impossible for Wooster to defy friends and females. If there is a possibility of escape, then they blackmail him into submission, blackmail being the favourite weapon of the fairer sex, who can be notoriously unfair when it suits them, which is most of the time. In a Jeeves novel, I mean. By midnovel, soup would be lapping at our hero's ankles, with him being in danger of being thrown into jail, or worse, engaged to a girl, a consummation devoutly to be missed. Fortunately for Bertie, his supervalet Jeeves, sometimes in one strategic move, rescues Bertie, and everybody else from their respective soups. To prolong the suspense, Wodehouse may create temporary hostilities between valet and master, or Bertie would choose to solve problems without involving Jeeves. Or a goofy friend or aunt may do something extra goofy. For example, in a typical Bertie and Jeeves story, Bertie's Aunt Dahlia may ask him to steal something for her, the stolen article being the means to make her disgruntled husband, Tom Travers, a bit ungruntled enough to fund the magazine she runs. Our realist may ask, "Why doesn't she do something else legal, less dangerous and simple? But that is not how characters in a farce, worthy of its name, behave. And Wodehouse's typical Jeeves plot is an elaborate scheme in itself. But it is legal and only dangerous if you are prone to die of laughter.

 In 'Right Ho, Jeeves,' one of the storylines, just one of many storylines in the complex plot, has Bertie helping his fish-faced, shy friend, Gussie Fink-Nottle woo the whimsical idealist, Madeline Basset. Aunt Dahlia, who usually starts the crazy ball rolling in a Jeeves story, starts this one by inviting Bertie to distribute the prizes at the local school. Defying his aunt would mean foregoing the pleasures of the palate, dished out by her masterchef Anatole. Bertie, in a clever attempt to eliminate two avian targets with one projectile, sends poor Gussie to his aunt, pitching it strongly to that shy wooer that this was an admirable opportunity to impress the object of his affections. To add fuel to a sure fire, Wodehouse makes Bertie think it a good idea to lace Gussie's orange juice with some species of alcohol. Bertie brags about his plan to Jeeves, just before things go wrong:

 "It must have been rather an eye-opener for you, watching me handle this case."
"Yes, sir."
"The simple, direct method never fails."
"No, sir."
"Whereas the elaborate does."
"Yes, sir."
"Right ho, Jeeves."