In search of the Queen Mother

Press, 11 October 1986, Page 21

In search of the Queen Mother

Queen Elizabeth. A Hie of the Queen Mother. By Penelope Mortimer. Viking Penguin, 1986. 288 pp. $39.95. (Reviewed by Kay Forrester)

Everyone loves the Queen Mum. She’s a lovely, old lady with a ready smile, everyone’s fairy godmother.

Isn’t she? Penelope Mortimer sets out to explore the character behind the public image. It is not an easy task. For a start, the Queen Mother rarely gives interviews and she didn’t to Penelope Mortimer. So the English novelist had to rely on what others told her, extensive reading, and her imagination to fill in the gaps. And gaps there are as the Queen Mother remains a private figure in spite of her public life. Mortimer had to reconcile descriptions of the senior Royal as “the greatest Queen since Cleopatra,” “a perfect little duck,” and “the most dangerous woman in Europe.” She was asked to write a biography of Queen Elizabeth, the Queen Mother, by a publisher who said he wanted: particularly not to approach writers already associated with Royalty, but rather a writer who could be counted on to write with style and imagination. Mortimer’s story scores highly on the latter. She warns that she had to work “from the facts inwards, instead of outwards from the character.” Her book is not an official biography and she offers the excuse “If we offend, it is with our good will.” Some of the conversations she attributes to Queen Elizabeth are those remembered by ’ others. Some are those she imagined might have taken place. She also attributes to the Queen Mother thoughts she believes went through her mind. ■ Most of the guesses Mortimer makes and the hunches she plays are, more than likely, reasonably accurate. But occasionally the book begins to have the air of an historical novel, set

loosely in fact, but with embellishments to make it more readable. The Queen Mother does not come out all sugar and spice. Mortimer paints a charming woman under whose spell many — particularly men — have fallen. But she also paints a woman who takes to her bed ill when problems get too much, and who singlehandedly — out of spite or jealousy — made the Duke and Duchess of Windsor’s life miserable after the abdication. In spite of her failings (real or imagined), the Queen Mother is a much loved figure. Mortimer is not sure what draws such a warm reaction. Perhaps it is that she could be anybody’s grandmother, except that she patently isn’t. Perhaps it is that she has survived almost 86 years that have seen two World Wars, a depression, almost inconceivable change, and the passing of several Royal dynasties. As bit player, reluctant lead, and now character actor on the Royal stage, the Queen Mother seems to have played to an appreciative audience. “It may be increasingly difficult,” Mortimer concludes, “for an octogenerian to climb into the helicopter, but once airborne the flight is effortless, skimming over the dull, pedestrian world, skimming over the empty spaces and uneasy silences, over neglect and indifference, landing only where the lights shine and the climate is entirely dependable. One day she will simply spin out of sight, emerging God knows where to carry on with the angels.”