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A review by laurehittle
Psmith, Journalist by P.G. Wodehouse
3.0
Here's the thing. Psmith *can* use his powers for good—we see that in his determination to furnish the poor slum with a modicum of decency and humanity. After the first book, where he (to use Wodehouse's own phrase) looked on all life as some sort of game, here he feels actual humanity, and as a result immediately hauls up his slacks and gets to work.
And yet. It's in this Psmith book where we run into not only multiple racial slurs but the pernicious and abominable question of whether melanin has anything to do with pain receptors. (The cry goes round the rooftop: NO, all humans feel pain, gosh.)
The New York gangs and assorted hijinks are great, but this is like Iron Man 2 of the Psmith books. It's nice to see a bridge between stages in character development (Leave it to Psmith is the best of the three—Jonathan Cecil doesn't read Mike and Psmith, so i only count three), but there's no need for this nonsense. Thankfully the slurs and nonsense are not extensive, being mostly confined to one chapter. Probably more 3.5/5 but Goodreads doesn't have half stars.
And yet. It's in this Psmith book where we run into not only multiple racial slurs but the pernicious and abominable question of whether melanin has anything to do with pain receptors. (The cry goes round the rooftop: NO, all humans feel pain, gosh.)
The New York gangs and assorted hijinks are great, but this is like Iron Man 2 of the Psmith books. It's nice to see a bridge between stages in character development (Leave it to Psmith is the best of the three—Jonathan Cecil doesn't read Mike and Psmith, so i only count three), but there's no need for this nonsense. Thankfully the slurs and nonsense are not extensive, being mostly confined to one chapter. Probably more 3.5/5 but Goodreads doesn't have half stars.