My mum says, “if you can’t say anything nice, Matthew, don’t say anything at all.”
An obedient son would stop here, then, when it comes to events in England over the coming weekend. But the coronation is such a huge deal it’s important to say how little it matters to me. There is value in ambivalence, and I wish more of us were more openly meh about the monarchy. It’s either be quiet and resentful or deck the streets with bunting. The vulgarity on one hand and the repression on the other are too English.
Yes. God is crowning King Charles III on Sunday, and I doubt I’ll watch it. I don’t enjoy crowds. I don’t love huge public institutions. And I don’t much like what I’ve seen and heard of the man in person. It’s going to be a big occasion, but the whole thing makes me uncomfortable. I’ll probably go and play squash instead. It strikes me I should choose to devote the meh time to something I’m passionate about.
I do feel sorry for the new King. He seems he might prefer not to ascend to the throne. Which is a shame because I can think of plenty of people who would love it. Anna Wintour, for example. She would be a good Queen. Or Bill Nighy––who was crowned in his own way on Monday night at the Met Gala as Ms. Wintour’s new public boyfriend. He might make a good King. Then again, that’s the problem with the monarchy. You don’t get to choose the people you crown. And yet, we’re all going along with it, aren’t we?
That’s what makes me uncomfortable. The monarchy exposes our weakness in the face of oddities and ridiculousness. Here’s a bloke ordained by God to rule over 60 million people. Plus. Here’s his crown. Here’s his big palace and his horses and his men. And worse, you’ve got to go along with it. It makes me feel like a chump. It makes me feel like moralizing. It makes me feel I should…say something. And yet, life’s too short. Let him have his party. I don’t have the energy I once had for fighting such nonsense.
Deep breaths. Namaste.
I’m also not a fan of guillotines.
My veering reactions make me queasy.
To get off the meh fence and delve a little deeper, I think the royal family is a parasitic institution that ruins the people in it. I say so in a whispered voice. But: If only everyone were stronger, we might do away with it. And it would be super if everyone could also come together and figure out a sensible thing to come in its place. Of course…we can’t. One could say the same for the British press as an institution, too. It’s the best we can do, but it’s not that good. Sigh. I sometimes wonder if we lived up to the promise of William Shakespeare. Or if he was the apex of British achievement.
That’s what I have to say about the coronation. It’s a failure of our creative imagination. Meantime, God Save The King. Or whatever.
Thanks for reading, as always.
