Queen Elizabeth II turns 90 today.
Hip, hip, hurrah!
I have been fascinated by the Queen since childhood, and my favorite book has long been The Little Princesses by Marion Crawford, nicknamed Crawfie by the royal family. Crawfie was the governess to Princess Elizabeth and her sister, Princess Margaret, when they were growing up. It amuses my husband no end to come upon me reading The Little Princesses yet again (and again and again). “Are you sure you have a Ph.D. in English literature?” he’ll say.
OK, I get it. My favorite book is a sentimental bit of fluff. I have lapses and failings just like everyone else.
Except that lately I’ve begun to revise my opinion of The Little Princesses. Upward. I’ve decided that it really is a great book, and today I’m going to talk about why.
One reason is the historical information in the book. Readers get an up-close-and-personal look at the abdication of Edward VIII and its effect on the princesses and their parents. Even more interesting are the descriptions of everyday life during World War II: rationing, coupons, air raids, gas masks, trenches…all seen through the eyes of Crawfie and her young charges. The princesses mix with refugees evacuated to Scotland when London becomes too dangerous. Princess Elizabeth is trained as a military mechanic. Crawfie herself has to register for military service.
Equally impressive is the quality of the writing. It is Crawfie who makes this book so remarkable – or, more precisely, the anonymous ghostwriter who turned Crawfie’s original manuscript into a bestseller. It’s a shame that we’ll never know who actually wrote the final draft, because it is such a model of good writing.
Here’s what I’m talking about. When I work with memoir writers, I relentlessly remind them to insert themselves into the stories they’re telling. “React,” I preach again and again. “Never allow anything to happen without a response from you.” Crawfie – present on every page of The Little Princesses – exemplifies that advice.
Here, for example, is a snippet from Crawfie’s account of the abdication:
On December 3, 1936, the newspapers carried a grim headline: THE KING AND HIS MINISTERS. GREAT CONSTITUTIONAL CRISIS. I had been out. I bought an evening paper just outside in Hamilton Gardens, and I remember I read the headline while I waited for the door to open.
And here’s an excerpt from Crawfie’s account of the coronation in 1937 (“Lilibet” was Princess Elizabeth’s nickname):
When they finally got home again, I asked Lilibet, “Well, did Margaret behave nicely?”
“She was wonderful, Crawfie. I only had to nudge her once or twice when she played with the prayer books too loudly.”
The Little Princesses exemplifies the “show – don’t tell” principle that many writers never quite get a handle on. Crawfie doesn’t step back and reflect: She takes us into the royal household with her so that we can watch the two princesses grow up. Because Crawfie is always there, so are we. As a result everyone in the book – even the royal pets – is right before us, lively and real. Even if you aren’t as besotted with the Queen as I am, you might be surprised by how much fun it is to read this book.
Happy birthday, Your Majesty!
The Little Princesses by Marion Crawford
