P. G. Wodehouse was a humorous, prolific writer best known for his Jeeves and Wooster books. Born in England, he spent much of his life in the United States, including the last decades of his life. He's part of our comedic novel heritage. Ukridge collects a series of stories featuring the title character, which he first published in 1924.
As I paged through the library's Wodehouse books, racing against the dread deadline of closing time, this first sentence held my attention.
Now it's summer, my least favorite season, and part of me is thinking, "What even is comedy? What is word?" But I'll try to rally myself and see what we have here.
Here's the sentence (external quotes omitted for elegance): “Laddie,” said Stanley Featherstonehaugh Ukridge, that much-enduring man, helping himself to my tobacco and slipping the pouch absently into his pocket, “listen to me, you son of Belial.”
There are two characters in this sentence: the narrator, who's talking of an encounter he had himself, and Stanley Featherstonehaugh Ukridge. There's an interesting device here. The narrator doesn't describe himself, but Ukridge calls the narrator "Laddie" and "son," which suggests the narrator is a young man. He is old enough to have his own tobacco.
As to Ukridge, the narrator calls him "that much-enduring man" and says he "absently" pockets the tobacco. These are sympathetic judgments. The narrator calls our attention to Ukridge's problems and treats the loss of his tobacco as forgetfulness rather than malice.
At the same time, Ukridge is calling him "son of Belial" – an insult, although possibly a genial tease. It means "son of the devil" yet the less common term "Belial" lands more softly. "Laddie" could well be affectionate. Is this wit rather than dislike?
The narrator seems to like Ukridge, and Ukridge may like the narrator as well. Ukridge addresses him familiarly, and makes himself at home with the narrator's tobacco. It seems they are friends, although swiping tobacco and calling names could be unkind. That tension between action and attitude is one source of humor here.
Another is the name "Stanley Featherstonehaugh Ukridge." It's long and ungainly. Stanley's common enough. Featherstonehaugh sounds strained, with the mismatch of "feather" and "stone" and the odd syllable "haugh" like someone crying out in pain at the end. The first syllable of "Ukridge" sounds a bit like someone choking or gagging. Finally, the name ends with "ridge" a return to a common pattern of having a last name refer to a land feature. The whole name has odd bits sandwiched between parts that make it seem normal, at first.
Another element of humor comes in the phrase "that much-enduring man." It comes right after Ukridge's full name – perhaps even having that name is much to endure. It also, from the events in the sentence, seems misapplied. The narrator would seem to have more to endure here than Ukridge does. "Much-imposing man" would seem more accurate. To call Ukridge "much-enduring" seems ironic.
Interrupting Ukridge's statement for so many words suspends time in a rhythm that often goes with comedy. In the midst of saying, "Laddie, listen to me," the narrator has time to tell us that long name and describe Ukridge as long-suffering, and Ukridge has time to borrow some tobacco and swipe the pouch. The action is truly faster than the speech.
Ah, good, now this sounds funny to me again, in a dry way. There was a period, when I was looking at it, when all the humor fell away, like ether fleeing an electron microscope. Losing the pleasure of smiling at Wodehouse would be a high price to pay for a blog post. But I would pay it, lads and lassies, just for you.
Graphic elements by Ken Silbert
Photo by Erol Ahmed on Unsplash