This is a delightful book whether read, or as we are doing, heard via audio book. Mr. Bennett is an actor as well as an author and playwright; the out loud version, read by himself, adds authenticity and sparkle. The British really have the accent down.

The novella gives us Queen Elizabeth, as a result of a contretemps with her ill behaved dogs, accidentally discovering the traveling library that visits Windsor and, long story short, gradually acquiring a reading habit to the consternation of her family and minions. Why? Well, reading is self indulgent, a thing done by oneself for oneself and therefore not seemly for a monarch. Inspecting shoe and cheese factories is so much more the thing, and her schedule is cluttered with such lethal command performances. Before long HRH is reading in the carriage, book held devilishly out of sight below the level of the windows, waving on automatic pilot to the crowds without taking her eyes from her book du jour. There’s no turning back; she’s a goner.

The Times of London review taps the larger implications of the slight tale, although in the reading/listening the humor is gentle rather than pit bullish to be sure.

“… beneath the tasteful gilt -and -beige cover seethes a savagely Swiftian indignation against stupidity, Philistinism and arrogance of public places, and a passionate argument for the civilizing power of art.” The Times, London.

I’d like to think our fearless leaders are so vapid at their teleprompters because between the lines, projected in a plane only they can see, works of art and literature engage their true interest, and we are only getting the leavings, the Queen’s wave.

Betsy Dorfman / Fine Art Shipping