I'm intrigued as to what this noise would be like, and it reminds me a lot of the similes and metaphors P.G. Wodehouse wrote, describing sights and sounds which only the imagination can encompass:
"He looked like a halibut which has just been asked by another halibut to lend it a couple of quid till next Wednesday."
"She had a laugh like a troop of cavalry galloping across a corrugated-iron bridge."
"His face displayed the cheerful bonhomie of a bloodhound which had just heard bad news."
"His sleep was interrupted by a sound not unlike three pigs feeding greedily during a thunderstorm."
"He had the appearance of one who has searched for the leak in life's gas-pipe with a lighted candle."
"He was white and shaken, like a dry Martini."
"Some minds are like soup in a poor restaurant - better left unstirred."
"He looked like something stuffed by a taxidermist who had learned his job from a correspondence course and had only got as far as Lesson Three."
"She uttered a sound rather like an elephant taking its foot out of a mud hole in a Burmese teak forest."
And of course Jeeves, who "...moves from point to point with as little uproar as a jelly-fish.”
Four narrators of the Jeeves series audiobooks I've listened to so far
Stephen Fry: Affectionately patronizing. His Jeeves carries a subtle blend of condescension and care, making the relationship with Bertie feel both humorous and endearing.
Jonathan Cecil: The epitome of a gentleman's personal gentleman. His portrayal is marked by utmost respect and refinement, with well-concealed emotions beneath the surface.
Nigel Lambert: Respectful and avuncular with a touch of seedy wisdom. His Jeeves seems like an older, wiser figure, possibly with a hint of world-weariness.
Martin Jarvis: Handsome, serene, and cool. His Jeeves exudes confidence and calm, giving the character sophisticated edge.
Jonathan Cecil's version of Jeeves matches my idea from the books best, though Nigel Lambert is a close second with his hint of shadiness. Stephen Fry’s Jeeves sounds like Stephen Fry, and I'd totally hire him if I were a gentleman in need of a gentleman's gentleman. I also like how Martin Jarvis's Jeeves sounds cool and handsome, but sometimes a bit dismissive and maybe too young for my ideal Jeeves.
By the way, we have a saying in Japan that the more naive a child is, the more endearing they become. It means that a child’s simplicity or innocence can make them especially charming to their parents or guardians. I think Jeeves would understand this sentiment well.
Lately, I've been dig A Bit of Fry & Laurie old shows on YouTube. thank you to BBC.
I first learned about J&W from the book. So my art of the characters in the image comes from the book. (Hugh Laurie was pretty close to my thing.Especially the eyes.)
I didn't know about the TV series when I first read book.
But are many of the people who are obsessed with J&W now hooked on it from the TV series? I think it's a pretty old program, but it seems like a lot of people enjoy it.
Is that show well known in English-speaking countries??
a little bit wonder.
I’m just like the op: I first read the books years ago and only recently discovered the TV series. For me, the books are the definitive version. In my mind, Bertie and Jeeves look quite different from their TV counterparts, although I do love the casting. The sad thing is, no one around me knows about the series, whether the books or the TV show. So it’s all the more wonderful to see people here loving the series and creating such great art about the duo!
One of my colleagues uses ‘we’ when making self-deprecating comments. For example, she says that good-looking people have advantages that ‘we’—meaning she and I—can’t even imagine, or that rich people, unlike us, can live wonderful lives. It feels like I’m being hit by stray bullets while I am just contentedly eating nice rice balls with a perfect pickled plum and kombu at my lunch hour.
Who even cares how you look in front of shiny white rice and a good cup of steaming green tea?
I’ve just finished reading all 15 books of the Jeeves and Wooster series. I had hearty laughs throughout. (I feel sorry if I scared my colleagues by smiling with no apparent reason at my computer. I was just remembering some scenes or phrases.) While I feel contented, there’s a touch of sadness knowing there are no more new Jeeves books to look forward to. To fill the void, I picked up Pride and Prejudice right after closing Aunts Aren’t Gentlemen, the final Jeeves novel. Though I feel a little like I’ve plunged into a rebound relationship, I’m liking it. Eliza is such a delight. I think I like her more than I did when I first read the novel around her age.
I love Jeeves and Wooster, but to maintain a balanced life, I sometimes need to focus my mind on other matters besides Bertie, Jeeves, and their relationship dynamics. It’s a bit of a shame. On the other hand, there are times that I wish that Jeeves and Wooster would give me my brain back for other uses.
Bertie and Jeeves in a style that I aimed to be shojo manga.
What I liked in the TV series was the fond, slightly exasperated looks the two of them share, as if exchanging an inside joke nonverbally.
I’ve been listening to “Stiff Upper Lip, Jeeves” read by Martin Jarvis. While Jonathan Cecil is my favorite reader of the Jeeves series, Mr Jarvis’ portrayal of Jeeves is suave and handsome. I’m all for a suave and handsome Jeeves. (Though an older, avuncular Jeeves herding the well-meaning but often hapless Bertie adds a charming layer to their dynamic.) I wouldn’t mind hearing Jarvis-Jeeves quote poem after poem under the moonlight, much like he does to Bertie in “Joy in the Morning.”
An idle thought about Bertie and his wildflower collection.
Winning the prize for the best wildflower collection during the summer holidays must have been a monumental achievement for young Bertie, so memorable that he occasionally mentions it in his stories. But imagine if someone with methodical and pragmatic hands had helped him collect those flowers. And what if that someone had been the young Jeeves?
Picture this: young Bertie, enthusiastic but a bit haphazard in his approach, is determined to gather the finest wildflowers during a stay at his family friend’s manor. The manor, with its sprawling gardens, hidden nooks, and lush greenery, is a treasure trove for any budding botanist. Enter young Jeeves, employed at the estate, already showcasing his singular intellect and the feudal spirit to oblige. A chance meeting brings them together.
After observing the child’s clumsy attempts for a while, Jeeves steps in to assist Bertie.
(“Might I suggest, young sir, that the early morning is the best time to find the dew-kissed blooms?”)
Jeeves suggests the best times of day to collect certain flowers, the ideal locations to find rare varieties, and even the proper techniques to preserve their beauty.
(“If I may, young master, it is imperative to press flowers when they are at their freshest. However, one must exercise caution and refrain from pressing them when they are wet or damp, as this could lead to less than satisfactory results.” )
Bertie, true to his innocent, puppy-like nature, is in awe of Jeeves’ seemingly endless knowledge, eagerly following the guidance of this mysterious mentor. He might even try to impress Jeeves with his own finds, only to be gently guided to even better specimens.
Their collaboration results in a stunning collection of wildflowers, each specimen carefully selected and preserved. Bertie remembers not having said goodbye to Jeeves only after leaving the manor. Truth be told, he is foggy about the identity of Jeeves, mistaking him for a scholar or a priest of a fountain of wisdom.
As time passes, the memory of that summer encounter fades, with Bertie’s old medal as the only tangible reminder. Bertie forgets the face of the mysterious helper, not linking him to the Jeeves he knows today. Jeeves, ever discreet, refrains from mentioning the long-past encounter, thinking doing so would be taking a liberty. Yet, a fondness colors his face whenever he polishes the old medal, a silent nod to the bond they unknowingly shared.
The idea was to draw Jeeves, who has been residing in my head for the past few months. However, I think he turned out looking too young. I personally imagine Jeeves to be about ten years older than Bertie. Therefore, this version of Jeeves might be from around the time when Bertie won the prize for the best collection of wildflowers.
I’ve just finished “Ring for Jeeves” and noticed a few interesting things.
In this story, Jeeves seemed a bit different to me. At times, he reminded me of one of the characters from Fry and Laurie’s sketches, such as when he and Bill rehearses the spider sequence. He appears even more morally ambiguous than usual, not hesitating to resort to less-than-legal solutions, as long as they are executed with finesse.
And, it’s clear that he finds joy in assisting helpless, somewhat mentally negligible gentlemen. One can safely say that Jeeves has a type.
I wonder if the difference in Jeeves’ character is due to the narrative styles: Ring for Jeeves is told from a third-person perspective, rather than Bertie’s voice. Bertie’s narrative is colored by his admiration for Jeeves, while the third person perspective allows us to see Jeeves from an external view point.
I also wonder if the Code of the Woosters and Bertie’s general goodness is what keeps Jeeves from more morally dubious methods of problem-solving. If so, it’s a delightful thought that their partnership not only solves problems but also keeps them both safe and on a (relatively) virtuous path.
I love Jeeves and Wooster, but to maintain a balanced life, I sometimes need to focus my mind on other matters besides Bertie, Jeeves, and their relationship dynamics. It’s a bit of a shame. On the other hand, there are times that I wish that Jeeves and Wooster would give me my brain back for other uses.
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