...P.G. Wodehouse comes to me.
I wish I could think of a witty completion of that thought, but nothing is coming, so I will just press on with the attempt to write a brief post on this Kindle's simulated keyboard.
I discovered twenty-five years or so ago that reading Wodehouse is for me an excellent medicine for melancholy. It's also quite helpful against anxiety and stress, of which I've had a good bit in the past couple of weeks since Hurricane Sally turned unexpectedly mean a few hours before coming ashore on the night of September 15. We had no damage to life, limb, or property (except for trees), but no electricity for five days, and I started Thank You, Jeeves! by flashlight. (We still don't have internet, hence my composing this on a Kindle at someone else's house.) And the rapidly deteriorating political and cultural condition of this country makes private stresses feel worse.
Trying to rank the Jeeves stories would be foolish. Suffice to say that this one has done its job excellently, and I've had at least one good laugh and a number of chuckles from every chapter. It's a novel, not a story collection, and I tend to prefer these longer works, which have enough narrative space for things to just keep getting nuttier until the happy ending. It has a regrettable element, though: Bertie spends a good part of the story in blackface, having disguised himself as a member of a touring American minstrel show, and uses the forbidden word several times. Jeeves, interestingly, says "Negro."