It's absolutely pouring out in Toronto - and loud, pouring rain comes second only to driving, blowing snow in my estimation of Perfect Staying Inside and Reading Weather. I blissfully finished Wodehouse's Money for Nothing this evening to the soothing tones of precipitation abusing the windows.
My house has a run-down demeanor and depressed attitude more suited to ghost stories and said demeanor and attitude could be improved upon only by replacing the electric lights with firelight and inviting in a decidedly chilling draft; nonetheless, reading the always delightful Wodehouse during times of Weather is a very satisfying experience.
I picked up Money for Nothing at She Said Boom! back in the late summer, I think, at the same time I picked up Something Fresh (which I've already read and documented on this blog). This is one of Wodehouse's earlier works and so while it's generally pleasing and amusing, it's not as conducive to loud belly laughs as Leave it to Psmith and Something Fresh are.
However, I have no complaints because Wodehouse's early talent for inviting one to quietly chuckle is just as profound as his later talent for raucous hilarity; simply put, this was an excellent read and Wodehouse is quickly becoming a fixture in my short list of Reliable Authors.
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