I read Ninety-Nine Glimpses of Princess Margaret (2018) in hopes of being
entertained by the scandalous nature of a notorious woman’s life. The writer,
Craig Brown, knows just the right details to present. He seems to have read every newspaper
account, every lurid letter, every intimate journal entry, by just about anyone
with anything to do with the British monarchy and aristocracy. Margaret was
doomed by the order of her birth—she was born after her sister Elizabeth, who
stood first in line to the throne.
Margaret was therefore a sort of prisoner. Regarded in her youth as a beautiful woman
and therefore an object of fascination and desire, she was a fleeting cultural
icon. When intense pressures from her government, the press, and her family
denied her wish to marry a divorced man, whom she apparently loved, she seems
to have given up. Shortly thereafter she
married a photographer who for lack of a better word was a lowlife sluggard who
constantly slept around. She did the
same. Eventually they divorced. She was attracted to writers and artists but
had little to say to them. She was a
skilled foul mouth who was widely known and (by some) reviled for her insults.
The book does little to create
much sympathy for the woman. Trapped by
her position, she lacked the fortitude to break out. Instead she lived on her considerable annual
allowance, performed an endless series of menial royal duties, chain smoked,
drank, and died. Just like its subject, this book was a disappointment. But it
does make you wonder exactly why the British monarchy survives.
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