On not meeting the Queen

In 2004 Curious was shortlisted the Commonwealth Writers’ Prize for Best First Book. The award ceremony was to take place in Australia, so I was very relieved to find that I had already agreed in to appear at the Brighton Book Festival that day[1].

Curious won, I was immensely chuffed and my grateful - apologetic speech was read out in my absence. A few months later I was invited to have dinner with some of the administrators of the prize at Cumberland Lodge in Windsor Great Park. If I remember correctly, the building was one of the Queen Mother’s residences, and it was decidedly odd to see informal photographs of the royal family alongside etchings of naked boys from Hockney’s series of Cavafy prints, loaned from the Arts Council collection.

The company and the food were very good indeed, but halfway through desert, after I had downed a considerable amount of wine, I was asked whether I would like to meet the Queen, as other winners of the prize had traditionally been asked to do[2].

I didn’t want to meet the queen. Nor did I want to seem ungracious. I suspect that this is true of many recipients of the prize. Hence the timing of the question.

I’ve learnt, over the past few years, never to give an immediate answer to any request, but to say politely that I will go away and think about it.

I went away and thought about it. And it was hard, because I hate giving offence. So I hummed and hawed and took far too long to reply that I simply could not bring myself to accept the invitation[3].

I was asked, on many subsequent occasions, to explain why. I gave a variety of answers. The most succinct was that I had written a book about how no human being was inherently inferior to any other human being. Consequently it would be hypocritical to take part in a ceremony which was based on the idea that one person is inherently superior to all others.

She may be a very pleasant woman. And I know other writers who have gone for tea at the palace and found her charming and intelligent and good company (rather like a very posh elderly aunt, as one said). But the queen is not merely a woman.

She no longer has political power, and we no longer believe that she was appointed by god. But when ordinary people meet her they are expected to behave as if these things are still the case. They must dress correctly. They must address her formally. They must bow and curtsey. They must refrain from slapping an arm round her shoulder and getting a picture of the encounter on their mobile.

Were it not sanctioned by centuries of tradition and a rosy heritage glow it would look like snobbery and elitism. Which is what it is.

It’s not the money or the castles. Over the past couple years I have met people of fantastic wealth who happily buy their sandwiches in Sainsbury’s, and owners of castles who think nothing of unblocking a toilet with a coat-hanger. It’s the value we put on one another as human beings.

I would love to live in a society where everyone is treated with equal respect, no matter who their parents are. But it’s hard to see how this can happen when we have a head of state who treats everyone else as a subject and demands their reverence in return.

Obviously, having said all of this, if I subsequently change my colours and accept an OBE (should one be offered) you are welcome to hunt me down and drive a stake through my blackened, post-Republican heart[4].

[1]See Cabin Doors to Automatic.
[2]I found out later that this was not strictly true. It is the winner of the main prize who is traditionally asked to meet the queen, but Caryl Philips, who had won it on this occasion, had declined the invitation. They did not tell me at the time, but I was a last minute substitution.
[3]Obviously they don’t keep a record of snubs because I was subsequently invited to a Buckingham Palace garden party. Guests could, if they wished, wear medals and national costume where appropriate. We would not be allowed to bring cameras to the event, but we were invited to place advance orders for a DVD of the occasion…
[4]I am advised that this is not a legally binding offer and does not protect any person who accepts it from the normal legal repercussions.