Bring on the Girls by P.G. Wodehouse and Guy Bolton

P.G. Wodehouse never wrote an autobiography of his whole life, but he did engage in memoir-making several times. The most focused of those pieces of memoir -- at least as far as I know -- is Bring on the Girls, the story of how he wrote a lot of musicals with Guy Bolton during the interwar years.

(Note 1: the book Bring on the Girls is also co-written by Wodehouse and Bolton, very naturally.)

(Note 2: "the interwar years" is slightly imprecise, since the first Wodehouse-Bolton (with music by Jerome Kern) production was Oh, Boy! in 1917. The end is vaguer, since Bring on the Girls is a chatty showbizzy book without much in the way of dates, but it seems that Bolton and Wodehouse ceased Broadway musical-making and decamped to Hollywood sometime in the '30s, and this book ends on that note.)

This was a deliberate piece of nostalgia when it was published in 1953, looking back three and four decades to an earlier era of Broadway and teasing many names who became more famous during those days and afterward. And it is a showbiz book, telling only happy stories about happy people who worked well together...well, except for producers, since no one ever liked them. (Producers are both the bosses and the ones who keep an eye on the money, so employees and creative types hate them. And audiences are always happy to blame the business types for any failures of art, so it works for the readership as well.)

It generally works through their career chronologically, slightly hampered, as I said, by not listing dates except on very rare occasions. Some shows were massive successes, and some were not quite so successful, but all were fun to work on and the casts were all wonderful people. And the reader almost believes that's all true. Most of those shows are little-known these days, except to serious Broadway historians, but that's only natural: Bolton and Wodehouse created the "Princess Theater show" as a musical comedy subgenre -- small, light shows designed to be done on a tight budget in a small house. That's an ephemeral thing at the best of times, and Broadway has been afflicted with giganticism pretty much continuously since then. More importantly, theatre is an art of production, rather than of quiet reading and study. Shows are only real when they're produced.

The prose style is not quite pure Wodehouse, since Bolton is responsible for a lot of it. And so much of Wodehouse in in his plots, which obviously doesn't come into play here. So anyone hoping for a book that sounds like Wodehouse will be somewhat disappointed. But it's a pleasant run through some interesting years in American musical theatre -- and before the years that most of us know anything about, which can be a nice bonus.

Bring on the Girls is probably more for a Broadway historian audience than a Wodehouse audience, I suppose, but Wodehousians can find interesting things in it, and many of us like the theatre as well.

Because, That's Why

Here, have a video, for two frivolous reasons:

First, we got into a discussion of Broadway musicals (sure, mostly Chicago, but go with me here) at dinner this evening.

And, second, I just wrote up a Book-A-Day post for a book in the manga series No Matter How I Look At It, It's You Guys' Fault I'm Not Popular! which inevitably reminded me of...

Incoming Books: October 22nd

Yesterday, my two sons -- the now alarmingly large and ever-more-teenaged Thing 1, and his still somewhat smaller younger brother, Thing 2 -- and I went into the City (there's only one on this continent, you know), for various activities.

First -- after the usual dreadful NJ Transit bus experience, which must be expected -- was lunch at Schnipper's Quality Kitchen, which is coming to be our favorite quick-stop food place in NYC. It's amazingly convenient -- right across from the bus terminal -- and the food is really good, and reasonably priced for where it is. (Thing 2 and I split a full order of their wonderful mac & cheese this time -- it's huge and gooey and tasty and comes hot, just the way it should.)

Then, we made a quick flying stop at Midtown Comics, in part because I was two books behind on the "read a novel, tell me the story, get a free manga" program with Thing 2 -- he's been on a tear through the Narnia books, after finishing the Lemony Snicket series, and is now also reading the first Artemis Fowl book as well. [1] While I was there, I got a few things for myself, but let me delay telling you about them just slightly, so I can shoehorn in the ostensible purpose of the trip:

We had tickets for the Reduced Shakespeare Company's Complete World of Sports (Abridged), the first of this season's shows as our favorite theater, the New Victory. (I've wanted to see the RSC for ages -- I read their original show, The Complete Works of Shakespeare (Abridged), when it was published as a playscript in the early '90s, but they hadn't hit NYC between 1993 and last year, when Shakespeare had a run at the New Victory, and I couldn't convince the boys that they'd enjoy it.) Sports was a hoot and a half: it zoomed along at a quick clip for almost two hours (with an intermission) and was really, really funny almost every single second. (There were a few moments of sports-appropriate pathos.) My boys both loved it to death; it's a great entertainment, particularly for boys, and I recommend it even to people who don't like sports all that much (like me, for example).

(It's running for another two weeks  or so at the New Victory, and it's on tour beyond that -- so it will probably be close to many of you sometime soon.)

But the real purpose of this post is the books I got -- there were a half-dozen for the boys (the two Thing 2 had already earned, another one that he got for telling me the plot of The Horse and His Boy later that day, and three more to have in reserve), plus slightly more than that for me. I haven't been to a comics shop since sometime early this summer, so I didn't even get half of the books I was looking for, but here's what I did get:

The Great Northern Brotherhood of Canadian Cartoonists, the second "sketchbook" graphic novel by the cartoonist known only as Seth -- he really should work with the Norwegian cartoonist Jason sometime, possibly on a biography of Cher. It looks at least mildly silly, and I'm hoping it's not too insider-y about cartooning and being Canadian and things like that. Seth's work to date has been remarkably consistent, though, even his previous "sketchbook" work, the slightly less serious but still smart Wimbledon Green.

Hellboy: The Bride of Hell and Others by Mike Mignola and compatriots. The flood wiped out all of my previous Hellboy books, so this is now the only one I have in the house. (Although I am starting to look at those fancy recent hardcovers...)

Similarly, I also got B.P.R.D. Hell on Earth Volume 1: New World, also set in the Hellboy-verse, by Mignola with John Arcudi and Guy Davis, which begins a new series of stories after the giant war with the frog-creatures.

And there was a new Roger Langridge book, The Show Must Go On, collecting a whole passel of random Langridge cartoons from the past twenty years. Since I've only gotten into Langridge recently -- and because, I think, all of his Muppet Show collections are upstairs with the boys -- I don't think I actually lost any of his books in the flood, which is a rarity.

There's a new annual edition of Love and Rockets: New Stories -- the fourth one -- by Gilbert and Jaime Hernandez, and I'm pretty sure it's now the only book I have in the house by either of those guys now. (I had the full old Fantagraphics run of Love and Rockets, as the twenty-odd individual numbered books, plus the more recent books.)

Richard Sala had a new graphic novel, The Hidden, and I snapped that up.

And last was the new reprint of Gahan Wilson's great strip for the '70s National Lampoon, Nuts. I actually did have the old paperback edition of Nuts that was published twenty-some years ago -- by whom, I don't remember -- but I was going to get this to replace it anyway, so I don't feel bad at all about losing that one book in the flood. (Which, I suppose, is a start.)


[1] And, yes, I am plotting for what I can give him next. (Actually, I did hook him on Snicket, but both Narnia and Master Fowl were recommendations from school -- I think his teacher, but it could be the librarian as well.) I'm definitely going to get him a copy of The Hobbit, especially with the movie coming, and I might toss him either Lloyd Alexander's Prydain Chronicles, Diana Wynne Jones's Chrestomanci books, or Susan Cooper's Dark Is Rising (though that one doesn't start as strongly) as well.

A Very Belated Semi-Review of "The Wolves in the Walls"

Thing 1 and I went to see The Wolves in the Walls, a family musical based on the Neil Gaiman/Dave McKean picture book, a couple of weeks ago now, when it was in New York at the wonderful New Victory Theater.

It scared the heck out of him -- he nearly ran out of the the theater, and did hide his head and cover his ears just before the wolves actually did come out of the walls. We were also pretty close -- fifth row or so -- and the show might be slightly less frightening further back. But it really distressed my nine-year old, so, if you're thinking about going to see it, be warned that it is scary.

Other than that, there were just two unpleasant things about the production -- it was really REALLY LOUD and the Scottish cast's accents dropped into incomprehensibility (even though they were really REALLY LOUD) quite a lot, especially when they were singing. The comprehension issue seemed to fade as the show went on, so perhaps it's just a matter of getting used to the accents. But, if you're an American and planning to see this show, expect your ears to be battered in a couple of ways, and expect younger or more sensitive children to be scared out of their wits.

Other than that, the show was wonderful -- the sets were wonderfully dingy-looking and creepy (and moved around into a couple of useful configurations), the wolf costumes were excellent (though, again, quite frightening for the younger ones), and the cast had a lot of energy, good singing voices, and accents that weren't completely impenetrable. If it's coming to your town, it's worth seeing.

But just remember: when the wolves come out of the walls...it's all over.

What I Did Today

The Wife and I packed up both sons and went into the big bad city to see Circus OZ at the New Victory Theater, which I can recommend wholeheartedly to anyone who likes circus-like entertainment without animals. Circus OZ is a bit loud and edgy for really little kids, but both of my boys loved it (ages eight-and-a-half and one-week-shy-of-six), and I bet adult audiences would love it just as much (and they probably won't hear about it, since the New Vic is a specifically kid/family venue).

There's a bit of cabaret, a bit of juggling, a lot of acrobatics, quite a bit of loud music, and a hell of a lot of funny stuff. There's also a singing stuntman, an amazing strongwoman, a mullett-headed trick bike rider, excellent acordion playing, fart jokes, and great hanging-rope acts.

They'll be at the New Vic through the end of the year, but after that they're back in Australia (the next gig listed on their web site is in Perth at the end of February). The site does say they might be in LA, Pittsburgh, and Montreal (among other places) in the near future, so, if you live in any of those places, you can keep an eye out. And I'm sure you can catch them various places in Australia...

The Hornswoggler sez: check it out.

A Busy, Busy Weekend

I've been even more frenzied than usual the last two days (and, of course, this would be the beginning of Daylight Savings, so I had one less hour to cram everything into).

Yesterday I dropped The Wife at work, the Things and most of the minivan's seats at my mother's, and my overgrown hair at Mario & Gerard's (on Valley Road in Wayne; a fine old-fashioned Jersey Italian barbershop that I don't recommend anyone else ever go to, since it's already too busy), then shlepped myself across most of NYC to help my brother move apartments about six blocks through two Brooklyn neighborhoods I don't know the names of. (It's the section between Prospect Park and Greenwood Cemetery; he moved from the Park side of the Prospect Expressway to the Cemetery side -- whatever those two bits are called.)

It only took four trips in the minivan; the streets were only ordinarily crowded, narrow, under construction and one-way; both apartments were second-floor walkups, but he doesn't have any huge furniture; the big rain came while we were in the car, working out the way to the new place on the first trip; and all my exercising over the past year or so has left me in better shape than I've been in my adult life -- so everything went better than I expected. It was tiring, sweaty work, but moving always is. I moved him into the old place two years ago or so; I hope he sticks around longer this time. (And then he took me and his girlfriend, Barbara -- can't forget Barbara; she was there the whole time, too -- to a Mexican place deep in the unknown depths of Brooklyn called Pacifico, where we shared a really good fried-cheese and nachos appetizer and I had a very tasty Killer Quesadilla. I even parallel-parked the minivan -- really badly, but I did it -- on the way there, and did the double-park slalom, too.)

Then I got to drive home, but that was actually fun -- I've only been driving since about the birth of Thing 2 (roughly five years), so I'm still getting into the groove of it, and this was my first longish solo trip. (One hour each way, with two tunnels and a bunch of roads along the way.)

So that ate most of yesterday. Today, Thing 1 and I went to a show at the New Victory Theater (our last tickets of the season, sadly -- I really like the New Vic as a venue and have enjoyed everything we've seen there over the past couple of years). It was a really funny English comedian who bills himself as the world's only comedian for kids (and maybe he is; I wouldn't know otherwise). I think I actually liked him better than Thing 1, but then I paid for the tickets, so I deserve more entertainment, don't I?

Before and afterward, I've been trying to catch up on laundry, and then we went to the other grandmother's for dinner, and a futile attempt to hook up her new digital cable boxes (which failed to come with any coaxial cable, so I'll be doing that again next week with some cable in hand). Then I watched Blazing Saddles while exercising and folding laundry (I've been Netflixing a lot of comedies from my youth lately, and folding laundry is a great thing to do during a movie you want to see but already know pretty well). And that's about all I've gotten done in forty-seven hours. I'm sort-of looking forward to getting back to work tomorrow, just so I can get some things done...

Ro-o-o-o-o-o-han, Where The Wind Comes Sweeping Down the Plain!

Emerald City rounds up the reviews of the Lord of the Rings musical (which recently opened in Toronto).

By all accounts, it's about as good as it was expected to be.

That's Entertainment!

I'm not going to toss in yet another potted post today, since that would be cheating.

I spent most of the day out with the family, first seeing the Golden Dragon Acrobats at the wonderfully cozy New Victory Theater on 42nd Street in NYC. It's a dedicated theater for kids and family shows, and I've been a member for two seasons now (and have seen a bunch of good shows pretty cheaply). This was one of the best events; Golden Dragon is a relatively large troupe (about two dozen young contortionists and acrobats with different specialties), and the New Vic is quite compact (less than 500 seats total, I think), which means everyone has a good view. The show was a bit less than two hours long, with lots of really impressive moments. If you've seen acrobats (especially Chinese), you know the sort of thing: juggling umbrellas, chair towers, pole climbing, plate spinning, and so on -- lots of really physically impressive activities, some of which look really dangerous.

So that one I recommend. After that, we went to do something that I don't recommend.

We went to dinner at the massively busy tourist-trap restaurant Mars 2112, on Broadway at 51st street. The wife thought last week (when the transit strike was going on) that we could try to go there after the show, since the city would probably be a bit quiet, and the boys would enjoy it. Well, the strike is over, so #1 was very untrue (though Thing 1 and Thing 2 did like the restaurant a lot). The decor of the restaurant is fairly well done, and breaks up what could be a huge, cavernous dining room; and the theming of the whole restaurant is solid, as well. But the wait is punishing -- forty-five minutes or so just to get in the door, another half-hour or more in lines just inside, then a ten-minute "ride to Mars" drops you off in another waiting area, where you cool your heels for at least another half-hour. We got in line at about quarter after four, and didn't sit down at a table until 6:25. They need to at least make the extent of the wait clear to their customers.

As I said, physically the place is interesting, but it's an overpriced generic-American feedery (prices are about the level of -- though the food is not nearly as good as, nor are there as many decent choices as -- an Olive Garden or Red Lobster). The menu has a bunch of bland chicken dishes that come very quickly, presumably because nothing is cooked to order. I wasn't expecting wonderful food, but I was hoping for competent chain-restaurant stuff, and I didn't get even that. The food quality is about sit-down-restaurant-in-a-theme-park level, which is ridiculous for midtown Manhattan. I won't be going back.