Judy put me onto her. Judy wanted a refreshing draught of Anglophilia and you can't get more Anglophiliac than this. Basically its a love letter to Jerome K Jerome (with a little time travel thrown in.) Judy insisted I read it too so she could have someone to discuss it with.
And it's a blast. Thoroughly recommended. I just spent an hour or more reading it in a hospital waiting room and the time just flew by.
It's curious about Jerome K Jerome. He's one of literature's one-hit wonders. He was an industrious hack, but he's remembered for Three Men in a Boat and nothing else. I wonder about such people (Mary Shelley and Bram Stoker spring immediately to mind): is posterity right in its judgement or is it being capricious? Are the many other books justly ignored? I guess there's only one way to find out, but I've no intention of reading the complete works of JKJ in search of forgotten gems. Life is too short.
Anyway, most of us writers would give our eye teeth (whatever they are) to have just one piece of work (a single short story, a single poem, a single LJ entry) turn out to be unkillable.