I written before about my feelings regarding Princess Diana. You know, I grew up at a time when she was the "real-life princess" every little girl could look up to.
Anyway, I stumbled across this book at our library's book shop, and I'm not entirely sure what compelled me to buy it. Curiosity, I suppose. And reading this book certainly gave a lot of insight into the way royal houses work and then also into Queen Elizabeth II, Prince Charles, and Princess Diana specifically. Which was interesting—engrossing even—but I felt kind of sick as I read it, too. I don't know how else to describe it. I sort of hated myself for reading it because it seemed so voyeuristic.
Going into the book, I wasn't really aware of who Paul Burrell was, largely because (a) I'm not British or one of those people who obsessively follow the royals, and (b) at the time of his court case I had a lot going on in my own life and wasn't paying much attention to the news. Which sort of made for nice reading since it was really all fresh and new to me. Though I suppose even if you did follow those proceedings at the time, this book is still an interesting perspective.
Burrell makes himself very likable, but of course what else would he do? He tries to make things sound reasonable, or at least tries to explain why he did some of the things he did. For me, that was only partially successful. In some instances I was just shaking my head. Because, yeah, he sort of seems obsessed. Maybe good servants are obsessed? I dunno, I feel like there's a lot of psychology to be explored here. Stuff about deriving your self-worth from whom you serve and how important you are to them, etc.
Come the end of it all, Burrell doth protest . . . if not too much, an awful lot. The letters to Charles and William were, of course, suspect since they came after the fact of his arrest. So naturally it was only when the Queen herself said that, no, Burrell had said the same things to her prior that the case against him collapsed. I'm not sure why Burrell professes in this book to be bewildered by that. He keeps going on about the letters to Charles and William but those could easily look like attempts by Burrell to cover his a**. And it's fine if we believe he's in earnest. But one has to look at it objectively, and from the court's point of view. People are tried on facts not personality. (Or should be, though I'm sure personality must color things.)
As for personality, while Burrell does seem earnest, he also comes across as somewhat smug, and then again at times desperate, almost pleading. He definitely wants to be understood, and wants Diana to be understood as well—or maybe just viewed through his particular prism? One can never be free of the bias in this book. Burrell was simply too close to everything to be able to put forth a big picture.
But one doesn't read a book like this for the big picture. This is an intimate story, if one sided. This is a man attempting to explain his devotion and also possibly excuse himself from certain things.
Burrell writes glowingly, lovingly of the Queen, the princes Harry and William, and of course Diana. He's less effusive about Charles though seemingly strives to not be outright damning. For people wanting to get to the juicy stuff quickly, there's a bit of Burrell's family history and such first. A primer of sorts on how he became a royal butler.
On the whole, it's a good read, but as I mentioned, it also made me a tad uncomfortable. I asked myself more than once: Why am I reading this? But once I'd started, it was difficult to stop. Indeed, I didn't—until I reached the final page.
Showing posts with label royalty. Show all posts
Showing posts with label royalty. Show all posts
11.08.2013
Books: Grave Mercy by Robin LaFevers
First in a series known as "His Fair Assassin," Grave Mercy follows Ismae, Daughter of Mortain (that is, Death) as she works to protect her homeland of Brittany from being taken over by the French.
Ismae is raised as the much-abused daughter of a turnip farmer, though it seems widely known that her scars mark her as a Daughter of Death. With the help of some sympathetic herbwitches, Ismae is taken to a convent dedicated to Mortain and taught the skills to become one of His handmaidens, namely an assassin. Once satisfactorily trained, she begins to be sent out on assignments.
Think of it as 15th-century Buffy. Except there are more than one of them. And they aren't fighting vampires, just really bad people.
The Convent of Mortain has vested interest in keeping Brittany sovereign and separate from France and other kingdoms because, if absorbed, the old saints and gods will fall to the Holy Roman ones. And so Ismae finds herself assigned to attend Anne, Duchess of Brittany, and to protect her and the country from treason. Courtly romance ensues.
Now if you know anything about historical Brittany (and I do because my family actually hails from there), you know Anne did eventually get married off first to one French king and then, when he died, his brother. But the bulk of this story takes place prior to all that, in advance of any of Anne's marriages (her first having been to the Holy Roman Emperor himself, but only by proxy). In the meantime, Grave Mercy does a nice job of building up the political tensions without bogging the story down too much. One really does feel sorry for young Anne, whose options were limited to begin with and got narrower with each passing day.
Ismae is a nice main character, too. Strong but not obnoxious, which can often be the case with these types of books. And the love interest was equally well managed: smart, strong-minded, but again not irritating. I was a tad put off by the first person present tense, but I got used to it. And the ending was satisfying without being too pat.
The next book in the series supposedly focuses on another of Mortain's handmaidens, one encountered briefly in this one, with just enough seeds of intrigue planted that, yes, I do want to know what's going on with her. So I'll probably pick that one up at some point, though I don't think I could read these back-to-back; at about 550 pages, one is enough to tide me over for a while. Still, it's nice to find another book series to add to my list, and to have books to look forward to.
Ismae is raised as the much-abused daughter of a turnip farmer, though it seems widely known that her scars mark her as a Daughter of Death. With the help of some sympathetic herbwitches, Ismae is taken to a convent dedicated to Mortain and taught the skills to become one of His handmaidens, namely an assassin. Once satisfactorily trained, she begins to be sent out on assignments.
Think of it as 15th-century Buffy. Except there are more than one of them. And they aren't fighting vampires, just really bad people.
The Convent of Mortain has vested interest in keeping Brittany sovereign and separate from France and other kingdoms because, if absorbed, the old saints and gods will fall to the Holy Roman ones. And so Ismae finds herself assigned to attend Anne, Duchess of Brittany, and to protect her and the country from treason. Courtly romance ensues.
Now if you know anything about historical Brittany (and I do because my family actually hails from there), you know Anne did eventually get married off first to one French king and then, when he died, his brother. But the bulk of this story takes place prior to all that, in advance of any of Anne's marriages (her first having been to the Holy Roman Emperor himself, but only by proxy). In the meantime, Grave Mercy does a nice job of building up the political tensions without bogging the story down too much. One really does feel sorry for young Anne, whose options were limited to begin with and got narrower with each passing day.
Ismae is a nice main character, too. Strong but not obnoxious, which can often be the case with these types of books. And the love interest was equally well managed: smart, strong-minded, but again not irritating. I was a tad put off by the first person present tense, but I got used to it. And the ending was satisfying without being too pat.
The next book in the series supposedly focuses on another of Mortain's handmaidens, one encountered briefly in this one, with just enough seeds of intrigue planted that, yes, I do want to know what's going on with her. So I'll probably pick that one up at some point, though I don't think I could read these back-to-back; at about 550 pages, one is enough to tide me over for a while. Still, it's nice to find another book series to add to my list, and to have books to look forward to.
1.18.2013
Books: Diana: Her True Story in Her Own Words by Andrew Morton
I'm not really writing a review yet (if ever) because I'm only about halfway done with this book. I picked it up because, after reading a couple about Elizabeth II (one non-fiction and one fiction), I decided to read some related material. I know plenty about people like Anne Boylen and Eleanor of Aquitaine but little about the modern monarchy. And Diana has left such a legacy . . . I had to wonder at the reaction to her divorcing Charles and then, later, to her death. I mean, by many accounts (though not all) she was a lovely person, very sweet natured and wanting to help—a typical Cancer, if you're into astrology, which she was a bit, I think—but I'll never quite understand how people who only know of a person through the media can have such wrenching reactions to things that these celebrities do or that happen to them. And Diana was a celebrity. The royal family are all celebrities, since by definition they are people who are "celebrated" in one way or another.
That said, I'll make a confession. Diana had about 15 years on me, so I was really young at the time of her wedding to Charles. I was what? Five years old? But it was old enough to understand there was a real live princess in a big wedding dress, that this Diana woman was living the dream of every little girl by getting to marry the prince. I had some tattered old copy of People, the commemorative edition or whatever, with all the pictures in it. My best friend and I would play "princesses" and I was Diana and she was Sarah [Ferguson, not technically a princess, but we made due with what was known and available to us]. And a little over a year later, when my World Book Encyclopedia sent its annual year book, I was so excited when there was a picture of Diana, Charles, and little baby William. I would go and look at it often.
This is to show I was not immune to the fervor. It waned, though, as real life waxed. By the time the divorce happened, I was hardly paying attention any more. And not having been inside the situation, I can only read the testimonies of various parties and try to extrapolate something that may or may not be the truth. It's interesting, like a psychological puzzle, working out the biases and whatnot.
And then the death, which was a shock. I was interning on my first film set that summer, so I was a bit out of the loop on the real world. I remember coming back from some long day and my roommates gathered in front of the television, watching the news. But of course by then Diana was no longer my childhood ideal of a princess . . . And yet, I did sense a bit of my innocence slipping away at the realization she was also no longer in the world. But while I thought it was sad, certainly, especially given the circumstances of her death, I was still amazed at the outpouring of emotion from so many people, as if they'd personally lost a loved one.
None of this speaks to Morton's book, though, does it. Well, so far it's very interesting. But of course I have to remember it is also one-sided. I never saw the interviews with her, but I've enjoyed reading the transcripts of her tape recordings; they certainly give a clear sense of her personality, and I feel I can very much hear her voice in my head. Then I get into the part fleshed out by Morton, who used the tape recordings to construct the story of Diana's life, and that helps give a fuller sense of her side of things if nothing else. Well, hers and whomever else was willing to speak on her behalf.
The picture is one of a conflicted nature: someone with a strong streak, a definite sense of destiny, and yet she lacked a lot of self-confidence, as if perhaps she was not convinced she was capable of taking on the burden of that fate. She was naturally a nurturing soul, but she needed someone to sustain her in turn, and it seemed she lacked that. Or maybe it's just that there might never be enough, despite friends and sisters trying.
Diana clearly had misgivings about marrying Charles, but also felt (again) destined . . . And yet she also was certain it wouldn't be forever, that she would never be Queen, that she would have another relationship after her first marriage (really she thought she might remarry, but sadly she never got that opportunity).
Anyway, I'm still reading the book, though I suppose I could say I know how it ends . . . But it's an interesting portrait. And after this, to be fair, I should probably find something from the other camp, though I don't think there's much out there. No one from that side tends to broadcast. One has to cut and paste various anecdotes and then stand back and, like one of those big pictures made from a mosaic of tiny thumbnails, try and see the story as a whole. But the number of thumbnails is limited, so the picture remains incomplete. People keep coloring in, trying to make it look a certain way, but that defeats the purpose of getting down to the truth. Though I guess it makes for a good story.
That said, I'll make a confession. Diana had about 15 years on me, so I was really young at the time of her wedding to Charles. I was what? Five years old? But it was old enough to understand there was a real live princess in a big wedding dress, that this Diana woman was living the dream of every little girl by getting to marry the prince. I had some tattered old copy of People, the commemorative edition or whatever, with all the pictures in it. My best friend and I would play "princesses" and I was Diana and she was Sarah [Ferguson, not technically a princess, but we made due with what was known and available to us]. And a little over a year later, when my World Book Encyclopedia sent its annual year book, I was so excited when there was a picture of Diana, Charles, and little baby William. I would go and look at it often.
This is to show I was not immune to the fervor. It waned, though, as real life waxed. By the time the divorce happened, I was hardly paying attention any more. And not having been inside the situation, I can only read the testimonies of various parties and try to extrapolate something that may or may not be the truth. It's interesting, like a psychological puzzle, working out the biases and whatnot.
And then the death, which was a shock. I was interning on my first film set that summer, so I was a bit out of the loop on the real world. I remember coming back from some long day and my roommates gathered in front of the television, watching the news. But of course by then Diana was no longer my childhood ideal of a princess . . . And yet, I did sense a bit of my innocence slipping away at the realization she was also no longer in the world. But while I thought it was sad, certainly, especially given the circumstances of her death, I was still amazed at the outpouring of emotion from so many people, as if they'd personally lost a loved one.
None of this speaks to Morton's book, though, does it. Well, so far it's very interesting. But of course I have to remember it is also one-sided. I never saw the interviews with her, but I've enjoyed reading the transcripts of her tape recordings; they certainly give a clear sense of her personality, and I feel I can very much hear her voice in my head. Then I get into the part fleshed out by Morton, who used the tape recordings to construct the story of Diana's life, and that helps give a fuller sense of her side of things if nothing else. Well, hers and whomever else was willing to speak on her behalf.
The picture is one of a conflicted nature: someone with a strong streak, a definite sense of destiny, and yet she lacked a lot of self-confidence, as if perhaps she was not convinced she was capable of taking on the burden of that fate. She was naturally a nurturing soul, but she needed someone to sustain her in turn, and it seemed she lacked that. Or maybe it's just that there might never be enough, despite friends and sisters trying.
Diana clearly had misgivings about marrying Charles, but also felt (again) destined . . . And yet she also was certain it wouldn't be forever, that she would never be Queen, that she would have another relationship after her first marriage (really she thought she might remarry, but sadly she never got that opportunity).
Anyway, I'm still reading the book, though I suppose I could say I know how it ends . . . But it's an interesting portrait. And after this, to be fair, I should probably find something from the other camp, though I don't think there's much out there. No one from that side tends to broadcast. One has to cut and paste various anecdotes and then stand back and, like one of those big pictures made from a mosaic of tiny thumbnails, try and see the story as a whole. But the number of thumbnails is limited, so the picture remains incomplete. People keep coloring in, trying to make it look a certain way, but that defeats the purpose of getting down to the truth. Though I guess it makes for a good story.
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