A dizzyingly convoluted and deliciously silly plot unfolds, with clockwork precision, in Pigs Have Wings. It’s the kind one expects in the happily unworldly world of Pelham Grenville Wodehouse (pronounced “Wood-house”), who once described the kind of writing he did as “musical comedy without music, and ignoring real life altogether.” Evelyn Waugh once described Wodehouse’s imaginary realm as “a world that cannot become dated, because it has never existed”—except, of course, on the page, where the author’s prose mastery and lighthearted but accomplished literary invention invites the reader to enter his blissful comic kingdom.
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