A Royal Gem

The Uncommon Reader
(Alan Bennett, 1997)

4 Stars

I’ve always had something of a soft spot for Alan Bennett. And let’s face it, who doesn’t? His softly spoken platitudes of British life, told in enrapturing little titbits that quite frankly feel like sitting down by the fire in the most comfortable of arm chairs, with a blanket over one's knees and a mug of milky tea and a hobnob. It’s just good old fashioned loveliness eloquated by a delightful old chap who sounds like he could well be best mates with your granddad.

Some of my fondest memories of my university days are of setting popular television series to the inimitable style of Mr. Bennett… Indeed, there’s nothing quite so appealing as the foul-mouthed Deadwood performed in delightfully lucid northern tones.

And so to the all too short novella The Uncommon Reader. Within its one hundred and twenty pages, The Uncommon Reader tells the story of our beloved monarch falling afoul of an addiction to reading, thus forgetting many of her royal duties and finding herself questioning the true essence of her existence. The story is told in such a believable fashion that one not only finds oneself questioning the state of the country should the Queen actually succumb to the all-powerful force of literature, but also our own futility when it comes to “getting lost in a good book”.

Witty and thought-provoking as ever, Bennett takes us on a whirlwind crash-course in the written word and into a world of closed doors behind which we, the general public, rarely tread. Its final few pages are both touching and hilarious, and leave the reader with so very much to ponder upon.

The Uncommon Reader is a wonderful little gem of a read, and I would urge you to read it with all my heart. But take care, fair reader, lest you, like our royal heroine, should find yourself falling under literature’s intoxicating spell.