KevinS
9 books read for LibriVox
- Early Wodehouse, before Jeeves, so you get a cheerful school story where a prefect's uncle turns up as a pupil younger than he is, plus a lot of cricket. Gentle fun if you like that world; if cricket bores you, this will test your patience.
- You’ll like the way Stephens makes Irish myth feel mischievous and alive, especially in Fionn’s boyhood, where wisdom arrives through the Salmon of Knowledge rather than solemn instruction. The stories are strange, lyrical, and occasionally abrupt, with gods, warriors, and ordinary people all sharing the same unruly world.
- Martha starts as an Austrian countess who thinks war is glorious, then it takes her first husband at Solferino and keeps coming for everyone she loves. It's earnest and sometimes preachy, but her fury feels earned, and knowing Suttner wrote it decades before 1914 gives it a chill.
- You’ll be glad to spend time with Psmith, who can talk his way through Blandings Castle while treating every social crisis as an opportunity for elegant nonsense. The plotting is gloriously tangled, with mistaken identities, a stolen necklace, and Lord Emsworth’s beloved Empress of Blandings quietly stealing scenes.
- You get Wodehouse before the polished Jeeves machinery: Wrykyn dormitories, cricket matches, school rivalries, and boys such as Mike Jackson and Psmith finding ingenious ways through trouble. The stories are brisk and occasionally sentimental, but the comic timing and affectionate eye for schoolboy absurdity make them easy to return to.
- The Wife of Bath alone is worth the price of admission, bragging about outliving five husbands before her story even starts. It's rowdy, gossipy, sometimes flat-out filthy, and the Middle English takes patience, so grab a good modern edition and read it out loud.
- You get the early Wodehouse pleasure here: St Austin’s boys, school rivalries, cricket, and a stolen trophy turning ordinary school life into cheerful melodrama. It’s slimmer and less polished than his later comedies, but the brisk mischief and affectionate ear for schoolboy absurdity are already in place.
- You read it for the eerie, brooding portrait of Petrograd during the First World War, where the city feels almost like a living, secret presence. It takes patience, since Walpole lingers over atmosphere more than action, but the unease gradually gets under your skin.
- You follow Jake Barnes through Paris cafés, fishing country, and the chaos of Pamplona, where his dry observations barely contain what he feels for Brett Ashley. The prose is spare and deceptively simple, though its emotional restraint can feel chilly if you want characters to explain themselves.