UNRULY

A British comedian and actor puts forth a goofy look at the English monarchs.

“We seem to need the trappings of monarchical continuity in order to reflect contentedly upon ourselves, just as we need alcohol in order to socialize,” writes Mitchell early on. “The English have more to fear from republicanism than most—we risk losing our skimpy sense of self….The English tradition of kings and queens has a lot riding on it and a lot to answer for.” His opening monarch is Arthur, who, he argues, never existed, at least not in any of the guises that have been imagined for him. Describing who he might have been, the author writes, “someone like that, the idea goes, might have been the bit of real grit in the imagination oyster that turned into the Arthurian pearl. Personally, I don’t think imagination oysters need real grit any more than metaphorical bonnets need real bees.” There was a real Edward the Confessor, there was an Edward I, and there were Plantagenets and Tudors. In Mitchell’s eyes, all of them were complex failures. Many were bloodthirsty—“Apart from seizing the throne and having his nephews murdered, Richard seems comparatively nice”—and many inept, many more, writes the author, were both. He closes his account at the end of the bloodiest periods of history, reminding us that while the Spanish Armada is a key moment in English memory, it’s forgotten that Queen Elizabeth sent a fleet to Spain the next year with equally calamitous results. Indeed, because the book ends so early, one hopes for a sequel bringing us up to date. As it is, Mitchell’s book is a sardonic, endlessly funny update to the classic 1066 and All That.

An eye poke for stiff-upper-lip monarchists, but good for many grins among the less worshipful of England’s royals.