Indeed, Sir

I don't know where I saw mention of it (probably here somewhere in one of the comments, as that is the way of these things), but I picked up a copy recently of C. Northcote Parkinson's Jeeves: A Gentleman's Personal Gentleman, a "biography" of our own dear Reginald Jeeves.

I was uncertain what to expect, given how different people tend to view the characters. The book has some very charming moments in it, and some quite amusing anecdotes, including a mystery set in France that involved not just Hercule Poirot, but Lord Peter Wimsey and Father Brown, if you can imagine such a thing. Parkinson's Jeeves has traveled extensively in Europe and in North and South America, mostly before he met Bertie. I can certainly see Jeeves as a world traveler.

There were, however, a number of things that simply didn't ring true for me. In the first chapter, examining Jeeves's childhood, Parkinson notes that Jeeves was an only child and orphaned at an early age, yet he doesn't explain how Jeeves later acquires Mabel as a niece. His relationship with Charlie Silversmith seems much rockier than what Bertie presents in his accounts. The author also has Jeeves working for Lord Worplesdon twice, which I just don't see any evidence for in canon. He's also attempted to shoehorn Jeeves into the lives of nearly every Wodehouse character going. Sadly, it was things like this that didn't let me really enjoy the book very much.

Thankfully, I didn't pay too terribly much for the book (hardbound, 1979, St. Martin's Press). If you're a completist, it might be worth a look, but I wouldn't really recommend it beyond the fact that it presents one author's view of how Jeeves had become the man we got to know through Bertie Wooster. Quite honestly, a lot of the fic in this community is far better written and much more entertaining.

I am so glad I know all of you wonderful writers and artists!

In response to angieveep's inquiry about jazz age slang, yesterday I picked up a copy of Eric Partridge's Slang: To-day and Yesterday at a used bookshop. It was originally written about 1930 and revised again shortly after WW2 (1950 apparently). It has several mentions of Wodehouse specifically, and some glossaries of slang from various periods. It's very genteel, given the period in which it was written, but it would be a great resource.

The link above is for ABEbooks and they have a bunch of copies starting at less than $4. Siff up your slang! :D

So. Doing. Each. Other.

This, from "Jeeves and the Tie That Binds," regarding Ginger and Bertie before Jeeves came into Bertie's life:

Chapter 2, Aunt Dahlia calls Bertie. She notes that Ginger is visiting.

"Know him?" I said. "You bet I know him. We were like... Jeeves!"
"Sir?"
"Who were those two fellows?"
"Sir?"
"Greek, if I remember correctly. Always mentioned when the subject of bosom pals comes up."
"Would you be referring to Damon and Pythias, sir?"
"That's right. We were like Damon and Pythias, old ancestor."

Chapter 3, Bertie describes meeting Ginger. They had adjacent rooms at Oxford, and it sounds like it was lust at first sight.

Our rooms at Oxford had been adjacent, and it would not be too much to say that from the moment he looked in to borrow a siphon of soda water we became more like brothers than anything, and this state of things had continued after we had both left the seat of learning.

Bertie mentions that Ginger got himself a girlfriend and moved out to Steeple Bumpleigh, Aunt Agatha's abode, and he wasn't going to cross the border there for anything.

But I had missed him sorely. Oh, for the touch of a vanished hand is how you might put it.

One might assume that Bertie and Ginger's affair had continued after they left school, and only ended when Ginger left for Steeple Bumpleigh, before Jeeves came along. A couple of pages later, Bertie sings Ginger's physical praises.

A cloud passed over his face, which, I ought to have mentioned earlier, was well worth looking at, the eyes clear, the cheeks tanned, the chin firm, the hair ginger and the nose shapely. It topped off, moreover, a body which also repaid inspection, being muscular and well knit. His general aspect, as a matter of fact, was rather like that presented by Esmond Haddock, the squire of Deverill Hall, where Jeeves's Uncle Charlie Silversmith drew his monthly envelope. He had the same poetic look, as if at any moment about to rhyme June with moon, yet gave the impression, as Esmond did, of being able, if he cared to, to fell an ox with a single blow. I don't know if he had ever actually done this, for one so seldom meets an ox, but in his undergraduate days he had felled people right and left, having represented the University in the ring as a heavyweight for a matter of three years. He may have included oxen among his victims.

So, yeah, they were obviously So Doing Each Other. Practically canon.