Laughing Gas

I’ll admit, I went into *Laughing Gas* expecting another lighthearted Wodehouse farce—maybe something with a misplaced pig or a butler with a secret. Instead, I got a full-throated roast of Hollywood’s vanity, and I’m still recovering from the burn. Joey Cooley is the kind of protagonist you love to hate: a former child star who’s coasted on charm and dimples for so long he’s forgotten how to *be* a person. When his career hits the skids, his desperation is both pathetic and hilarious, especially as Wodehouse piles on the indignities with surgical precision. Jonathan Cecil’s narration is the cherry on top—his Joey is all smarmy confidence, his supporting cast a symphony of exasperation, from the wheedling studio flunkies to the world-weary girlfriend who’s *this* close to throwing him into the Pacific. That said, this isn’t Wodehouse’s tightest plot. The middle act meanders a bit, with a subplot involving a stolen screenplay that feels like it’s killing time until the next zinger. And while Cecil’s performance is stellar, his female voices occasionally tip into caricature—though, to be fair, Wodehouse’s women here are *meant* to be broad types, from the ditzy ingénue to the battle-axe aunt. The real joy is in the prose itself, which Cecil delivers with the kind of relish usually reserved for a five-course meal. The audio production is crisp, with no distracting edits, though I’d kill for a slightly faster playback option—Wodehouse’s wit is best consumed at a clip. If you’re a fan of *The Idle Rich* or *Piccadilly Jim*, you’ll adore this. If you’re new to Wodehouse, be warned: this is the man at his most biting, not his most cuddly. But if you’ve ever wanted to hear a master satirist eviscerate fame with nothing but a typewriter and a raised eyebrow, *Laughing Gas* is your audiobook. Just keep the volume low unless you want odd looks on the subway.