Alan Bennett’s just sprung a brand new story on the world, published exclusively in the current issue of the London Review Of Books. Doubtless it’ll later emerge as a little Profile Books volume, BBC audiobook, Radio 4 serialisation, and eventually end up in some anthology, as Mr B’s work is as repackaged and reissued as, oh, The Beatles. He has a pretty unique position as an intellectually rated author who can also take on the Harry Potters and the Da Vinci Codes in the bestseller charts.
His new story is called The Uncommon Reader, and muses on The Queen becoming an avid bookworm in recent years, a move which upsets her staff and Government. Rather timely given the success of the Helen Mirren film, though Mr Bennett has put words into HMQ’s mouth before, in A Question Of Attribution.
In both cases, the Monarch is the heroine, and is as sharp and as witty as a Noel Coward character. Is it patronising to make The Queen wittier and funnier than she could possibly be in real life? Than anyone could possibly be in real life?
Alan Bennett’s tale asks, what if The Queen suddenly stopped exchanging small talk with local dignitaries on all those visits, and started discussing Proust or Jean Genet with them. I do wonder if the real Queen will read it, and what she will make of it, just as I wonder what she makes of the Mirren film. The Palace is reportedly keen to set up some official reception to meet Dame M post-Oscars, so presumably she approves of the latter. But what about a tale where it’s implied Elizabeth R lacks a strong, individual voice and needs to become better-read in order to find it? Well, it’s certainly an interesting idea, and beautifully told. The story also features the London Library, which I’ve joined as of today.
An email from an Orlando fan:
I’ve just been hearing part of Blueboy’s Unisex album… I always consider that to be a kind of brother/sister album to Orlando’s Passive Soul, although I’d concede that any similarities are lyrical rather than musical.
That’s interesting. I’ve certainly been a gushing fan of the band Blueboy (once of Sarah Records), and occasionally even find myself idly picking out their song Popkiss on the guitar. I’ve never sat down to write a Blueboy-esque song, but it’s fair to say their lyrical influences cross over with mine. The usual suspects.
I promised an old friend that I’d find her a copy of Passive Soul one day, without her having to pay silly money… What I found on www.amazon.co.uk rather skewed my idea of things. There are two copies for sale, and the asking prices aren’t quite as daft as I’ve seen, but they’re still above what most people would call remotely sensible.
Indeed. And ‘Orlando (Artist)” indeed.
Given that there seem to be so few copies of Passive Soul in existence, wouldn’t it have been fun to hand-number them all, like art prints? With the tenth anniversary of the album’s release this year, how about your offering to hand-number copies for anyone prepared to send theirs to you?
Not my sort of wheeze, but I appreciate your appreciation. I remember some Belle And Sebastian fans once set up an online register of all 1000 copies of ‘Tigermilk’ in its original pressing, but there’s more to life than numbering things and making lists, isn’t there? Don’t tell Channel 4. Or any of the more bearded music magazines.
As for procuring a copy of Passive Soul at a less silly price, all I can suggest is to write to Warners UK and ask them very nicely to re-issue it or license it to a re-issue label, pointing out the price it goes for as a rare CD. I suppose it can’t do any harm. Extreme optimism has a certain beauty, doesn’t it? I say that as a Green Party member.
Orlando’s Passive Soul album. Ten years on.
No, I can’t really feel anything about that. Like birthdays, you don’t feel it, you’re just told it. But I’m glad the album is being listened to in 2007, or even thought about being listened to.
