Books on Thursday

I read a few books over the past few weeks; two were pretty good, but I was less than enamored with the third one.

Little Princesses is a fascinating glimpse into the childhood of Queen Elizabeth II and Princess Margaret, told by the woman who spent sixteen years as their governess. Marion Crawford, or “Crawfie” as Elizabeth called her, gives us a very different picture of royal life than the polished public image we usually see.

What I enjoyed most was the glimpse of the girls as children rather than as future monarch and princess. Elizabeth comes across as serious, conscientious, and remarkably self-disciplined even at a young age, while Margaret is more mischievous, spirited, and demanding of attention. Crawford clearly loved both girls, and some of the most enjoyable passages describe their everyday activities, like swimming, Girl Guides, outings, vacations, and even riding the Underground. She made a conscious effort to give them experiences outside the sheltered world of royalty.

The book is also particularly interesting as a historical document. Crawford was writing shortly after the upheaval of Edward VIII's abdication, when Elizabeth's unexpected position as heir had transformed the family's life. We see the transition from a relatively quiet family existence to life at Buckingham Palace, and eventually the arrival of Charles. There is plenty of detail about the routines and expectations of royal life that I found entertaining.

That said, the book is somewhat uneven. Crawford's perspective is understandably limited, and she sometimes spends a lot of time on the minutiae of daily life without providing much broader reflection. Knowing what happened to Crawford after publication (that the Queen Mother apparently never forgave her for writing the book) also gives the memoir a rather sad undertone. Crawford obviously regarded her years with the family as an important and loving part of her life, so the eventual estrangement feels particularly poignant.

I also found myself wishing for more insight into the adults and the complicated dynamics within the royal family. Crawford was close to the Queen Mother, but she remains somewhat guarded about certain subjects, and there are moments when I wanted to know more than she was willing or able to tell. 

Little Princesses is worth reading for anyone interested in the British royal family or twentieth-century history. It feels less like a sensational royal tell-all than an affectionate, sometimes nostalgic account of two little girls growing up in an increasingly extraordinary set of circumstances. The historical context and the opportunity to see Elizabeth and Margaret as ordinary children make this an enjoyable memoir. Three and a half stars rounded up. 

 

I liked The Art of Racing in the Rain, although I think I may have enjoyed the movie just a little more than the book (which is not something I say very often).

The story is told from the perspective of Enzo, a dog who is convinced that he has the soul of a human and is waiting for his next life. Through Enzo’s eyes, we follow his owner, Denny, an aspiring race car driver, through love, marriage, parenthood, heartbreak, and some truly heartbreaking challenges. There’s plenty here about racing, but ultimately this is a story about loyalty, family, perseverance, and making the most of the time we’re given.

I think part of the problem for me is that I saw the movie first. Once I had Kevin Costner’s voice in my head as Enzo, it was hard to imagine the character any other way. Costner’s narration gave Enzo a warmth and personality that I found especially appealing. The movie also made a few changes to the story that, in my opinion, actually improved it, particularly the way the situation involving the charge against Denny was handled. I found that version more emotionally satisfying, and the ending was absolutely perfect.

The book certainly has its touching moments, and Enzo is an appealing narrator, but some of the sentimentality worked a little better for me on screen. Maybe if I had read the book first, I would feel differently. This is one of those rare cases where I think the movie edges out the book, but I’m still glad I read it. Three and a half stars, and I wonder why I have mistakenly thought this book was about running in the rain for 18 years. 

 

I understand the idea at the heart of Good Joy, Bad Joy: older women can feel invisible, and after spending a lifetime being the responsible wife, mother, and community member, Joy wants to find out what it might feel like to put herself first. I actually liked that premise and initially had some warm feelings toward Joy.

Unfortunately, I had a hard time getting behind the way she went about reclaiming her sense of freedom. Her first few attempts at breaking the rules seemed relatively harmless and even fun. But as her behavior escalated, Joy begins committing actual crimes, like pulling a fire alarm and speeding, for example, simply because she wants to feel that she's living more boldly. To me, this felt less like liberation or courage and more like immaturity and pettiness. I kept wishing that Joy's rebellion had led her toward something more meaningful than simply doing things she knew she shouldn't do.

I also found myself questioning some of the book's attempts at humor. The premise has plenty of potential for both humor and emotional depth, but the more Joy's antics escalated, the less I connected with her. The friendship between Joy and Hazel was much more appealing to me, and I appreciated the book's exploration of aging, friendship, regret, and the desire to make the most of the time we have left.

Interestingly, I realized that some of my initial affection for Joy may have been coming from the audiobook narration rather than the character herself. Maggi-Meg Reed narrates Joy, and she also narrated Sibyl's voice in The Correspondent, a book I loved. Hearing her voice brought back those positive associations and probably made me more predisposed to like Joy than I otherwise would have been.

There are some worthwhile ideas here about aging, invisibility, friendship, and giving ourselves permission to change. I just didn't find Joy's particular journey toward "Bad Joy" as charming or empowering as I think the author intended. Two and a half stars. 

Now I'd love to know what you're reading!