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Doctor Sally

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About this listen

 When Bill Bannister meets Dr Sally Smith, love blossoms immediately. Unfortunately there is just the small problem of Lottie Higginbotham, former actress, serial bride and human fireball, with whom Bill is already involved.

The well-meaning interference of Bill's old friend, Squiffy Tidmouth, once married to Lottie, only complicates matters further, until everything is straightened out in a series of comic encounters at Bill's ancestral home and everyone lives happily ever after.

©2014 P.G. Wodehouse (P)2014 Audible, Inc. Contemporary Contemporary Romance Fiction Genre Fiction Literary Fiction Romance
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I'm glad to have found this as it's news to me, but it's really very bad and I wouldn't have tolerated it if it wasn't Wodehouse. I thought it must have been from his youthful hack period when he wrote The Swoop - a dreadful imperial propaganda piece- but no, this was written in the PGW golden age of the 1930s. If you've found this, you're a PGW fan, so of course you must read or listen to it, but don't hold out hopes. It does read as if it was written for a suffragette magazine in the nineteen teens. By Julie Birchill. Not that I don't appreciate Ms Birchill's many sterling contributions to art, but she's not a substitute for PGW, nor does she claim to be. Neither, for that matter, is Jack Dempsey, Barry Sheene, or the Archbishop of Canterbury!

Great find but surprisingly bad

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There's nothing of Wodehouse's trademark style in this book. Wikipedia says it's based on a play he wrote, which was itself an adaptation of a Hungarian play. I'm guessing this was either a cash grab by him, cranking it out as quickly with little or no creative effort, or else someone ghost wrote it for him, perhaps if he sold the serialisation rights for the play and didn't have time to do it himself. It reads like the latter, to me.

You'd better be a real completionist if you're considering buying this. It's not good. It's not really even Wodehouse, or at least not his style. There's very little humour in it. I can imagine it might have been watchable as a play, but the novelisation falls flat.

I'm not sure Wodehouse wrote this

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