More Pickles Than Tickles

"Best Seller" April 2025. There are so many twists and turns of plot in this comic novella that a summary of the book would give away too much! Our protagonist and narrator, the chivalrous Rollo A. Maldroy, is a wealthy young 1930s-Era chap, a member of the exclusive Carpe Diem Club of London, who is dedicated, it seems, to getting his pals and himself out of the various pickles they get themselves into. "Wonderfully entertaining. Dickensian coincidences, Wodehousian ambience, Leffingwellian invention - this book is a pip!" writes a celebrated authoress. Here is an excerpt that is not a spoiler: "There we were at long last, you say. I confess that when I started this account I thought those literary johnnies had a pretty straightforward time of it-first this happened, then that. Well, it is not the nonchalant stroll in the park you may imagine. A simile of sorts may be in order. Let's say you're at the Club. You have proposed a game of darts (think of that as writing this history), start at 501 say, and whittle down to zero. Simplicity itself, you smile wryly. But you are deceived. "First throw: you take aim and let it fly. And here comes Biffy Biffington sailing into view brandishing the fireplace whisk-broom, which intercepts your dart inches from the target. You claim a re-throw and the ad hoc rules committee huddles. They vote two to one that Biffy is a well-known darts hazard, rather like sand bunkers or casual water on the links, and you have to play around him. Had he used the shovel instead of the whisk-broom, they say, the turn would be repeated and you'd get to pelt him with day-old rolls at fifteen paces. "Play continues. If Paunchy Partridge happens to be foisted upon your team, you've got to keep a sharp eye on him, lest one of his random out of turn shots throws you off your game, you know, like some side event in life that bollixes up your narration. Now, if you can sort of sidle Paunchy to the back of the crowd and have him throw a couple of the other teams darts out of turn, then you yourself might demand replays, which is a simile for a rewrite. You see, we sometimes take an hour or two to finish a game, by which I mean we just stop, experiment with cocktails, and sigh philosophically, agreeing to play another day. The thing with this literary stuff, is you can't just stop, you've got to go to the end, dragging in the contingencies that pop up." The pickles our young chums get into are affairs of the heart. Who will marry whom? Or more to the point, perhaps, who will manage not to marry whom? Have a romp with our characters through this romantic labyrinth!