A review by galaheadh
Aunts Aren't Gentlemen by P.G. Wodehouse

I must have liked this book a lot in the past, since it survived a few stages of book culling to still be on my shelf today, but rereading it this time I was very underwhelmed. It has the features of Wodehouse without the strengths of Wodehouse: the narration veered between mildly amusing and completely tedious, and the plot was constant shenanigans without actually being funny. The cast was dull (shoutout to Aunt Dahlia, easily MVP) and I would also like to say a big no thank you to the flippant racism. If you’ve decided to be an apolitical writer, maybe don’t write books featuring explorers of Equatorial Africa, communism and political protest.

Naturally suffers by comparison when reading it directly after Leave it to Psmith, which is exceptionally well-written and exceptionally funny even after countless rereads, but even so I found it a chore to read and won't be doing so again. This one can come with me next time I visit the street library.
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