No estoy seguro de recomendar la mentada selección («¡Pues vaya!») para iniciarse. Me parece más lógico comprar algún libro, y ver así si la cosa funciona (a algunos les prende enseguida; a mí me gustó de entrada, pero no me pareció nada
extraordinario; tuve que pasar algunos libros y relecturas
para agarrarme la dichosa adicción). A la hora de recomendar, pues, y restringiéndonos a lo poco que se consigue fácil en español, tenemos que elegir entre los 15 títulos de la colección «Compactos» de Anagrama, tapas verde claro. Diría yo —con temor y temblor— que empiece por alguno de estos cuatro:
- De acuerdo, Jeeves: Novela con Wooster y Jeeves. Con dos joyitas adicionales: el episodio de la entrega de premios escolares por Fink-Nottle y el personaje de Madelaine Basset. Este libro no es tan fácil de hallar en Argentina.
- Júbilo matinal: Otra novela con Wooster y Jeeves, más fácil de encontrar, y de gran nivel.
- Ola de crímenes en el castillo de Blandings: Contiene el cuento largo que da el título, una maravilla, de lo mejor del castillo de Blandings (¡y con «el eficiente Baxter»!), y un buen surtido de cuentos: uno de Mr Mulliner, tres de golf, uno del Club de los Zánganos y tres de Ukridge.
- Amor y gallinas: Una novela muy temprana, en la obra de PGW, como un anticipo de todo lo mejor de su madurez: el lado cómico con Ukridge y el lado tierno en la historia de amor. Y ese sol inocente que dice S. Fry en todas las páginas.
Los lectores (devotos únicamente, por favor) de Plum quedan invitados a hacerme llegar sus opiniones.
Y no quiero dejar pasar la oportunidad sin recomendar este artículo de Hugh Laurie, el que hizo el papel de Bertie en la miniserie (con Stephen Fry como Jeeves). Una delicia, con trozos muy wodehousianos:
I was, in truth, a horrible child. Not much given to things of a bookery nature, I spent a large part of my youth smoking Number Six and cheating in French vocabulary tests. I wore platform boots with a brass skull and crossbones over the ankle, my hair was disgraceful […]
But this, you will be nauseated to learn, is a tale of redemption. In about my 13th year, it so happened that a copy of Galahad at Blandings by P. G. Wodehouse entered my squalid universe, and things quickly began to change. From the very first sentence of my very first Wodehouse story, life appeared to grow somehow larger. There had always been height, depth, width and time, and in these prosaic dimensions I had hitherto snarled, cursed, and not washed my hair. But now, suddenly, there was Wodehouse, and the discovery seemed to make me gentler every day.
By the middle of the fifth chapter I was able to use a knife and fork, and I like to think that I have made reasonable strides since.
Y el relato de cuando el productor de tv les ofreció
a él y a S. Fry los papeles de Wooster y Jeeves::
But this, you will be nauseated to learn, is a tale of redemption. In about my 13th year, it so happened that a copy of Galahad at Blandings by P. G. Wodehouse entered my squalid universe, and things quickly began to change. From the very first sentence of my very first Wodehouse story, life appeared to grow somehow larger. There had always been height, depth, width and time, and in these prosaic dimensions I had hitherto snarled, cursed, and not washed my hair. But now, suddenly, there was Wodehouse, and the discovery seemed to make me gentler every day.
By the middle of the fifth chapter I was able to use a knife and fork, and I like to think that I have made reasonable strides since.
«Fiddle,» one of us said. I forget which.
«Sticks,» said the other. «Wodehouse on television? It’s lunacy. A disaster in kit form. Get a grip, man.»
The man, a television producer, pressed home his argument with skill and determination.
«All right,» he said, shrugging on his coat. «I’ll ask someone else.»
«Whoa, hold up,» said one of us, shooting a startled look at the other.
«Steady,» said the other, returning the S. L. with top-spin.
There was a pause.
«You’ll never get a cab in this weather,» we said, in unison.
«Sticks,» said the other. «Wodehouse on television? It’s lunacy. A disaster in kit form. Get a grip, man.»
The man, a television producer, pressed home his argument with skill and determination.
«All right,» he said, shrugging on his coat. «I’ll ask someone else.»
«Whoa, hold up,» said one of us, shooting a startled look at the other.
«Steady,» said the other, returning the S. L. with top-spin.
There was a pause.
«You’ll never get a cab in this weather,» we said, in unison.