“There never was a more self-deprecating natural born genius than Pelham Grenville Wodehouse, whose appreciation of his own oeuvre lay in direct inverse proportion to the rapture enjoyed by its readers. He would probably be flattered that so gifted a novelist [as Sebastian Faulks] is to publish Jeeves and The Wedding Bells in November, though if he was peeved he would be infinitely too polite to let on.”