Bennett illuminatingly imagines the Queen being at first daunted by Jane Austen: so far distant in terms of rank, she is unable to appreciate the – to her – relatively small social divisions between Austen's characters. There are two good reasons for its abolition: it infantilises us, and, in turn, it deranges the royals. But he is subversively sound, I think, on the nature of the monarchy. Her courtiers hate the habit they perceive – hilariously – that reading is 'elitist', and suspect incipient dementia.īennett's jokes are so beautifully modulated that I would rather not spoil them. and with the help of Norman, the autodidact gay kitchen porter, becomes an avid reader, eventually reading Proust at Balmoral instead of shooting stags. Noblesse oblige and all that, so she borrows a book – Ivy Compton-Burnett – and then, despite its being a slog, she borrows another ( Nancy Mitford – more to her taste) and another. The plot, for those unfamiliar with it: the Queen, herding unruly corgis, discovers a mobile library parked by the Buck House kitchens. If there is only going to be one good thing to come out of the jubilee, let it be this. It was first published in 2006 in the LRB, and released as a hardback in 2007. Alan Bennett's dry wit and ever so English manner fit with our idea of the Queen perfectly, and his eye for domestic detail has us fully believing we are privy to the blossoming interior life of a character usually so private and unknowable.L et this column – a republican, ever since the usurpation of the enlightened elective monarchy of the Anglo-Saxons by those thugs, the Normans – at least join in the jamboree by celebrating the timely reprint of this little gem.

The Uncommon Reader is a delightful little comic fantasy about the benefits of a good book, but the wonder of it is just how true it rings. Soon enough she is devouring all the literature she can get hold of, initially to the detriment of her public duties, but ultimately to the enrichment of her life and the betterment of her service to the nation. She hadn't previously taken much interest in reading for pleasure – it being in the nature of her job not to have hobbies – and had only been briefed, which is the antithesis of reading: terse and with an end to closing a subject, whereas 'reading is untidy, discursive and perpetually inviting'. While out walking the corgis one day, the Queen comes across a travelling library and, well practised at feigning interest in her subjects' lives, asks to borrow a book.

The uncommon reader by alan bennett