When I first went to see him, I telephoned P. G. Wodehouse and asked for directions from New York to his house on Long Island. He merely chuckled, as if I had asked him to compare Euclid with Einstein or attempt some other laughably impossible task. “Oh, I can’t tell you that,” he said. “I don’t have a clue.”
From P. G. Wodehouse, The Art of Fiction No. 60Interviewed by Gerald Clarke — The Paris Review
I didn’t know P.G. Wodehouse was a Lawn Guylander! The durnedest people come from that fabulous not-quite-emerald-maybe-zirconia isle.Report
Well, I assume he didn’t come from there, but lived there.Report
He spent much of his (long, long) life there. Because of the internment camp broadcasts, he was persona non grata in the UK after WWII, and moved to the US permanently.Report
Just checked. Southampton. Not a bad place for exile.Report
That was a fun read, good find.Report
I know I was writing stories when I was five. I don’t remember what I did before that. Just loafed, I suppose.
All those years, just wasted time…
Nice interview. Thanks for sharing.Report