The Autobiography of the Queen, By Emma Tennant
Here's a world in which our gracious monarch, sick to death of her public and private duties, ups stumps and heads for St Lucia, incognito. How on earth could the Queen even hope to do that? It is one of many unanswered questions in this engaging but unenlightening tale. It works well enough as a fable but less well as a novel, as something where thoughts and motives are properly investigated.
Arriving in St Lucia, the Queen strikes up a friendship with Austin Ford, St Lucia's own Zorba the Greek, all-round fixer and furnisher of pleasures. This almost-romance is portrayed with a great deal of charm, and the style is brisk and engaging.
It's a shame that the author feels obliged to present the Queen's slow dwindling to down-at-heel battiness as something amusing, and it is a little odd that an "autobiography" should be written in the third person. It might be that Tennant feared that to use the first person would represent unforgivable lèse majesté, but given the book's trajectory, I rather doubt it.
Subscribe to Independent Premium to bookmark this article
Want to bookmark your favourite articles and stories to read or reference later? Start your Independent Premium subscription today.
Join our commenting forum
Join thought-provoking conversations, follow other Independent readers and see their replies