After the first chapter or two, I was starting to hope I might have found another Wodehouse. I should have known better: nothing is another Wodehouse. After a couple more chapters, the whole thing becomes quite formulaic, and the amusing anecdotes that branch away from the main narrative get more and more annoying. I suppose there’s only so much that can really happen when you’re rowing from one lock to the next for ten days, but it wouldn’t have killed Jerome to put in a little bit more madcap, and a little less scenery and “this reminds me of…”. I do, however, now wish to own a dog named Montmorency.