There are some books that I feel I am yet far too early in my blogging journey to review. Worthy literary tomes; zeitgeist novels that are far too clever and edgy for me to understand; cult classics that people will defend to the death or see burnt without a moment’s hesitation. There are authors, too, whose works I feel entirely unequipped to write about: Alan Bennett is one of those. How could I begin to do justice to a writer of such breadth, wit, and genius? But as a wise man once said, smooth seas do not a skilled sailor make – so let’s paddle together in these waters with Bennett’s 2007 novella, The Uncommon Reader.

I was reminded about this book by a social media comment on my library post a few weeks ago, when a learned friend mentioned Bennett’s criticism of library closures. That sent me on a hunt for this little gem, which I first read some years ago, I think for the book group I attend.

The Uncommon Reader cover.jpg — The Uncommon Reader

Faber & Faber, 2007

Alan Bennett

At around 120 pages, it’s a quick read and in fact I re-read it in just a couple of hours in prep for this post. Bennett’s imagined premise is that Queen Elizabeth II, out on a walk around Buckingham Palace grounds with her corgis, comes across a mobile library van, and decides on a whim to pop in. The librarian recovers quickly from his shock, even able to answer her questions (“have you come far?” … “Only from Westminster, ma’am”) and stamps out the book she chooses to borrow. Here also in the van she encounters Norman for the first time, a gangly kitchen porter from her own staff, who comes to figure prominently in the tale.

The following week the Queen returns to the mobile library van and takes out a new book – Nancy Mitford this time, The Pursuit Of Love (“novels seldom came as well-connected as this … the mother in law of another [Mitford] sister was my mistress of the robes”). Quickly, and to the dismay of her staff, the Queen’s love of reading blooms and begins to edge out everything else, both pleasure and duty.

Norman – he of the library van – is promoted to position of page Upstairs in the palace, as he alone understands her literary love. He is often sent to procure a book’s sequel, or to find a novel referenced in the pages of the Queen’s current read. She calls him her amanuensis, or literary assistant.

(C) The Uncommon Reader, Alan BennettFaber & Faber, 2007 — (C) The Uncommon Reader, Alan Bennett
Faber & Faber, 2007

“I’ve had my eye on the ball for more than 50 years”

Sir Kevin, the new and ambitious Private Secretary, is increasingly concerned by what he sees as fanciful distractions from the Queen’s actual duties. He has some basis for this fear, to be fair to him – there is a nice sequence where the Queen leaves behind her book in the carriage on her way to the opening of parliament, only to have it confiscated by security as a potential threat (““Exploded?”, said the Queen. “But it was Anita Brookner.””)

The corgis are not big fans of the reading either. Walks that were once filled with thrown balls and tugs of war are now curtailed in order that the Queen can find somewhere to sit and finish her next chapters. Sir Kevin does try to put a positive spin on Her Maj’s new hobby:

“All readers were equal, herself included”

The Uncommon Reader is, as much as anything, an extended musing on the nature and function of reading. Done whether for information or for pleasure, to expand horizons or to escape reality – everyone has their own motivation. “I read, I think, because one has a duty to find out what people are like” – Bennett imagines Queenie’s sense of obligation extending even into this new pleasure, but as he says, “books did not care who was reading them or whether one read them or not”.

Through discovery of new authors, a variety of genres, and efforts to share her new love of reading with her loyal subjects she encounters on her official visits, Bennett takes us on the voyage of Liz’s discovery. He also gives us a glimpse into her hopelessness, shared at some time by every reader: “The sheer endlessness of books outfaced her … I have started too late. I will never catch up”.

Bennett invents also Regina’s regular talks with the Prime Minister – never named, but the novel is set very definitely in the early- to mid-2000s – and there are some delicious lines to savour in their conversations. She lends him books on the history of the Middle East: enjoy the side-eye.

“You don’t put your life into your books. You find it there”

The novella is tightly written and rises rapidly to a sliding-doors conclusion that I will leave you to discover for yourself. But the take-away from The Uncommon Reader, for me, was much more about the motivations, implications, and pitfalls of reading. Written by almost anyone else, the novella could be seen as impudent, but Bennett is almost a contemporary of Queen Elizabeth – aged 14 at her coronation, “you just become accustomed to her”. Nor is the novella anti-monarchy – while Bennett refused a CBE in 1988 and a knighthood in 1996, it was more to do with the restrictions he believed acceptance would place upon him. The quality of his prodigious output truly makes him one of Britain’s best writers. And having donated his entire archive to the Bodleian Library in 2008 in passionate defence of free state-funded education, he has forever secured a place in my heart.