The Man With Two Left Feet / Carry On, Jeeves

There are at least three beginnings to the Jeeves & Bertie saga.

The first beginning occurred with a short story called "Extricating Young Gussie", first published in the Saturday Evening Post on 18 September 1915, and reprinted in the collection The Man With Two Left Feet and Other Stories in 1917. The narrator is certainly called Bertie, and he has a man called Jeeves and an aunt called Agatha. But Bertie's surname appears to be Mannering-Phipps, and Jeeves does absolutely nothing to save the young master from the soup, confining himself to announcing people and bringing in the tea. So the elements are there, but not mixed properly as yet.

Here's the cover of the Penguin edition of the book:

 

I would not say this was one of Ionicus's most inspired covers; but it does the job, and is especially good at suggesting an unpleasantly crowded dance floor. (A much more joyous and attractive depiction of a night club occurs on the cover of Pearls, Girls and Monty Bodkin. But that's a discussion for another time.) The publishing history suggests this cover dated from 1978. The typography comes into its own with such a long title, and I find the arrangement of the words strangely pleasing.

As with Tales of St Austin's, the font is not specified. But this is what it looked like:

The next beginning of the Saga, which is really the true beginning because it includes the revelation of Jeeves's braininess, was a short story called "Leave It to Jeeves", published in the Saturday Evening Post on 5 February 1916. It appeared in volume form in My Man Jeeves (1917). Strictly speaking, this volume is irrelevant to our muttons, as Ionicus never illustrated the cover; but no matter. I have an early Penguin edition, printed in September 1936 (and it is startling to reflect that The Code of the Woosters did not even exist at that time). Here is the cover (a flimsy paper jacket which covered the similar card cover):

And this is the start of "Leave It to Jeeves" in that volume (font unknown):

While I'm on the subject, and for no especial reason except that I think it's interesting, I might as well include this, the blurb from the back of the paper cover which includes a nice pic of PGW in a rather fetching jumper:

So, moving on. My Man Jeeves includes four Jeeves stories, the remainder of the volume being filled with four stories narrated by a silly ass called Reggie Pepper. Later, Wodehouse clearly felt he had missed a trick, and when he brought out Carry On, Jeeves in 1925 he reissued the Jeeves stories ("Leave It to Jeeves" being reworked as "The Artistic Career of Corky"), rewrote some of the Reggie Pepper stories as Jeeves and Bertie, and added a couple of new ones.

Here's the Ionicus cover. I have two copies of this, so I am taking the opportunity to show you both spines: one still in pristine orange condition and one faded in the sun of thirty or so summers:

 Now, the cover of this is excellent, showing off Ionicus's skill in depicting interior décor and also effectively illustrating one of the iconic moments in comic literature: Jeeves introduces himself to Bertie. This is the third beginning of the saga, and probably the most important in the reader's mind. The story "Jeeves Takes Charge" is an origin tale, written after Wodehouse had realised what he had got himself into.

The book is set in Garamond:

Before we finish, I'd like to take a moment to show how, when Ionicus was at his best, he was capable of getting everything right. This is Wodehouse's description of the moment depicted:

Bertie is struggling with Types of Ethical Theory, as who wouldn't? The book is in his hand. Jeeves is "darkish" (and, by the way, I have sometimes wondered if Wodehouse was deliberately using one of the many early 20th century code words to show Jeeves was perhaps Jewish?)... and Bertie is in his usual attitude of startlement (but does not appear absolutely imbecile as in some depictions). Jeeves's pristine appearance contrasts nicely with Bertie's civilised dishevellation. The rack of canes, umbrellas and golf-clubs is a beautiful touch. As I have mentioned before, the situation is comic but the treatment should be, and is, serious: it's a solemn moment for all those concerned.

And all this was only the beginning.

The Heart of a Goof

The Heart of a Goof (1926) was Wodehouse's second collection of golf stories; the first, and in my opinion superior, collection was The Clicking of Cuthbert (1922), but unfortunately Ionicus did not do a cover for that one, despite the fact that this title was in Penguin's back-catalogue during the Ionicus era. If you are interested, I would say that Cuthbert has more verve and enthusiasm. However, the Goof stories are all thoroughly professional and funny, and there is no real reason to be disappointed by them.

My copy of The Heart of a Goof is, alas, slightly damaged: a small patch under the G and W of the Wodehouse logo has been lifted off by a super-adhesive label, a flaw which the ebay seller from whom I got this copy did not mention in her listing. Well, never mind; it's still a reasonable copy, and as the ancient Romans said: e-buyer beware.

Ionicus has chosen to depict the retired businessmen who infest the Oldest Member's course and who are known to the initiated as the Wrecking Crew, consisting of the First Grave-Digger, the Man with the Hoe, Old Father Time, and Consul, the Almost Human. In the illustration, they are not quite as I imagined them; the First Grave-Digger is described by the Oldest Member as an ex-hammer-thrower whose chest had slipped down to the mezzanine floor, but still muscle-bound; it would be difficult to identify him in the picture. Never mind. The point is still made, especially in the unhappy faces of the golfing ladies to the right as they await the disastrous drive of the gentleman who I will for the sake of convenience here call Old Father Time. As I have mentioned before, Ionicus seemed to match his covers with the publication date, and I would not be surprised to find the fashions suit 1926 exactly. The details are beautiful in their way: the ghastly tattered mac of the First Grave-Digger, the unfortunate plus-fours of the music-hall gentleman to centre left; the sensible cardigan of Old Father Time, the shades of the grass, the hint of the club-house. The Wodehouse logo is just the right shade of green to match it.

The text is set in Linotype Granjon:

Solid, reassuring.

Now, here I am going to take the risk of being very beastly. Round about the Millennium, Penguin completely re-set and re-issued the main Wodehouse titles. The result was, I contend, hideous. I happen to have the 1999 edition of The Heart of a Goof. Here is the front cover:

Note the wacky typeface for title and author, a sort of Comic Sans Plus affair; the cartoon figures with exaggerated period features such as big moustaches, monocle, and billowing plus-fours above stick-legs. We must be kind; we must remember this was the early computer era, where the art of drawing on a screen was still in its infancy or at the most its adolescence. But all the same, this title, like all the titles in this edition, shows absolutely no respect for Wodehouse as being a nonpareil of English humorous prose, looked up to by Evelyn Waugh, among many others, as the Master with a capital M.

And as for the typeface.....

Well, it's clear; I will say that. I can see nothing actively wrong with it - except, of course, the foul and contemptible decision not to fully-justify the text but to leave it with a ragged right hand side. The typeface is like this throughout the entire book - indeed, all the books in this series. Incidentally, the font is called 9/11pt Monotype Trump, which is somehow unsurprising.

Penguin's Millennium Wodehouse has disappeared from print, thank God. But I can't say that Arrow's in-print editions are any better, at least in terms of cover design. Look at this (an image snaffled from the Internet):

Yes, look at it and weep. I am no expert, and perhaps I will be told I am showing embarrassing ignorance in these matters; but I cannot believe that in terms of composition, grace of line, and overall artistry either of the more recent covers can begin to hold a candle to that of Ionicus.