The cover of the book Freddy was reading

The book the Honorable Freddie was reading was a small paper-covered book. Its cover was decorated with a color scheme in red, black and yellow, depicting a tense moment in the lives of a man with a black beard, a man with a yellow beard, a man without any beard at all, and a young woman who, at first sight, appeared to be all eyes and hair. The man with the black beard, to gain some private end, had tied this young woman with ropes to a complicated system of machinery, mostly wheels and pulleys. The man with the yellow beard was in the act of pushing or pulling a lever. The beardless man, protruding through a trapdoor in the floor, was pointing a large revolver at the parties of the second part.

Beneath this picture were the words: "Hands up, you scoundrels!"

P.G. Wodehouse, Something Fresh

Oh, how many books I've enjoyed which were decorated in similar style. Actually, I have it on fairly good authority (from somewhere I now can't recall) that this was talking about Edgar Wallace's novels. Which I love. Really, really love. 

So here we have the double whammy for hedonistic reading — Wodehouse and Wallace.

Jeeves and Nietzsche

“You would not enjoy Nietzsche, sir. He is fundamentally unsound.”

P.G. Wodehouse, Carry on, Jeeves

Still sinking as a hedonist into Wodehouse quotes. There is none better than Jeeves.

Lagniappe: Egbert and the Civil Service

As from boyhood up [Egbert] had shown no signs of possessing any intelligence whatsoever, he had gravitated naturally to England’s civil service... But though he could drink tea as well as the next man and had a gift for crossword puzzles, he did not really like being in his country’s service, however civil.

P.G. Wodehouse, Another Christmas Carol

Still reading novels in a hedonistic way.

Brains enough for two

And she's got brains enough for two, which is the exact quantity the girl who marries you will need.”

P.G. Wodehouse, Mostly Sally

In the spirit of reading as a hedonist, let's look at a little P.G. Wodehouse, shall we?

Reeves and the Motu Proprio That Binds

"Dash it all, Sr. Agatha, I won't --"

"Do be quiet, Willie. I did not travel all this way to listen to your blathering."

"But you can't expect me to --"

"What I expect, Willie, is that you will find a place in your diocese for young Father Thomas here."

I eyed the specimen, who sat perched on the edge of an armchair staring at the wall clock in rapt fascination. I would have said he had unhinged his jaw, the better to concentrate, but he lacked a visible jaw. The overall effect so strongly suggested a daydreaming fish that it was all I could do to refrain from offering him an ant egg.

"He wants some rounding, as I say, and the opportunities do not exist in our diocese. Something musical, perhaps, or the rector of a shrine. You do have shrines here?"

"Oh, rather," I said, my parochial pride a bit stung. "Some jolly fine ones, too. It's just that we're full up with rectors at the mo."

"Well, I'm sure you'll find something suitable." Sr. Agatha rose. "I shall check back in a week. Goodbye, Father Thomas."

"Hm? Ah." Father Thomas unmoored his gaze from the clock and smiled at the room at large.

"I am quite certain you will not disappoint me, Willie. Not this time," Sr. Agatha added, with a look that could make a cardinal deacon feel the sleeves of his rochet were too tight.

Then she left the room, if "left" is the mot juste for someone who moves with the self-possession of a Romanesque abbey.

P.G. Wodehouse fans will recognize the style and the players in this story by the inimitable Disputations. This is classic and hilarious. So far we have Parts I, II, and III. Go, enjoy ...