"A new Jeeves and Wooster novel"--Jacket.

'Brings the peerless Jeeves and Wooster barrelling back to life' Daily Mail A gloriously witty novel from Sebastian Faulks using P.G. Wodehouse’s much-loved characters, Jeeves and Wooster, fully authorised by the Wodehouse estate. Bertie Wooster is staying at the stately home of Sir Henry Hackwood in Dorset. He is more than familiar with the country-house set-up: he is a veteran of the cocktail hour and, thanks to Jeeves, his gentleman’s personal gentleman, is never less than immaculately dressed. On this occasion, however, it is Jeeves who is to be seen in the drawing room while Bertie finds himself below stairs – which he doesn’t care for at all. His predicament is, of course, all in the name of love ... ‘A masterpiece ... a pitch-perfect undertaking’ Spectator ‘Entirely delightful’ Financial Times ‘Delightfully witty, packed with puns’ Sunday Mirror ‘A polished sparkling genuine fake’ Herald

What ho! A new Jeeves and Wooster novel that is "impossible to read without grinning idiotically" (Evening Standard), penned in homage to P.G. Wodehouse by bestselling author Ben Schott -- in which literature's favorite master and servant become spies for the English Crown. The misadventures of Bertie Wooster and his incomparable personal gentleman, Jeeves, have delighted audiences for nearly a century. Now bestselling author Ben Schott brings this odd couple back to life in a madcap new adventure full of the hijinks, entanglements, imbroglios, and Wodehousian wordplay that readers love. In this latest uproarious adventure, the Junior Ganymede Club (an association of England's finest butlers and valets) is revealed to be an elite arm of the British secret service. Jeeves must ferret out a Fascist spy embedded in the highest social circles, and only his hapless employer, Bertie, can help. Unfolding in the background are school-chum capers, affairs of the heart, antics with aunts, and sartorial set-tos. Energized by Schott's effervescent prose, and fully authorized by the Wodehouse Estate, Jeeves and the King of Clubs is a delight for lifelong fans and the perfect introduction to two of fiction's most beloved comic characters.

In The Inimitable Jeeves, Bertie Wooster and his valet Jeeves embark on a series of riotous adventures. Among other things they involve Bertie's feeble attempts to stop his friend Bingo Little from falling in love with every girl he meets. But the amiable chump's main concern is to avoid the eagle eye and iron will of his merciless Aunt Agatha. In one of the funniest works in the English language, P. G. Wodehouse charms, delights, and occasionally surprises the reader with his shrewd parody of the carefree lives of the English elite.

Jeeves and Wooster return in a new espionage caper full of japes, high jinks, and jiggery-pokery in a series that is “impossible to read without grinning idiotically” (Evening Standard). The Drones club’s in peril. Gussie’s in love. Spode’s on the war path. Oh, and His Majesty’s Government needs a favor . . . I say! It’s a good thing Bertie’s back, what? In his eagerly anticipated sequel to Jeeves and the King of Clubs, Ben Schott leads Jeeves and Wooster on another elegantly uproarious escapade. From the mean streets of Mayfair to the scheming spires of Cambridge, we encounter a joyous cast of characters: chiseling painters and criminal bookies, eccentric philosophers and dodgy clairvoyants, appalling poets and pocket dictators, vexatious aunts and their vicious hounds. But that’s not all: Who is ICEBERG, and why is he covered in chalk? Why is Jeeves reading Winnie-the-Pooh? What is seven across and eighty-five down? How do you play Russian Roulette at The Savoy? These questions, and more, are answered in Jeeves and the Leap of Faith — an homage to P.G. Wodehouse, authorized by his estate, and essential reading for fans of The Master. Tinkety-tonk!

Jeeves—my man, you know—is really a most extraordinary chap. So capable. Honestly, I shouldn't know what to do without him. On broader lines he's like those chappies who sit peering sadly over the marble battlements at the Pennsylvania Station in the place marked "Inquiries." You know the Johnnies I mean. You go up to them and say: "When's the next train for Melonsquashville, Tennessee?" and they reply, without stopping to think, "Two-forty-three, track ten, change at San Francisco." And they're right every time. Well, Jeeves gives you just the same impression of omniscience. As an instance of what I mean, I remember meeting Monty Byng in Bond Street one morning, looking the last word in a grey check suit, and I felt I should never be happy till I had one like it. I dug the address of the tailors out of him, and had them working on the thing inside the hour. "Jeeves," I said that evening. "I'm getting a check suit like that one of Mr. Byng's." "Injudicious, sir," he said firmly. "It will not become you." "What absolute rot! It's the soundest thing I've struck for years." "Unsuitable for you, sir." Well, the long and the short of it was that the confounded thing came home, and I put it on, and when I caught sight of myself in the glass I nearly swooned. Jeeves was perfectly right. I looked a cross between a music-hall comedian and a cheap bookie. Yet Monty had looked fine in absolutely the same stuff. These things are just Life's mysteries, and that's all there is to it. But it isn't only that Jeeves's judgment about clothes is infallible, though, of course, that's really the main thing. The man knows everything. There was the matter of that tip on the "Lincolnshire." I forget now how I got it, but it had the aspect of being the real, red-hot tabasco. "Jeeves," I said, for I'm fond of the man, and like to do him a good turn when I can, "if you want to make a bit of money have something on Wonderchild for the 'Lincolnshire.'"