A royal reality show-and-tell
November 6, 2005 | 12:00am
FREDDY AND FREDERICKA
By Mark Helprin
Penguin Press, 576 pages
Available at Powerbooks
Mark Helprin has always been one of my favorite contemporary American writers. While I must confess a bias towards British writers, such as William Boyd, Julian Barnes, A.N. Wilson and Jonathan Coe, Helprin and Paul Auster immediately spring to mind when quizzed about who my favorites are among those writing fiction in America today. Helprin has that knack for taking seemingly straightforward concepts or storylines and transmuting them into pithy, thought-provoking novels that will stand the test of time. The contemporary fairy tale center of Winter’s Tale, the World War I backdrop of A Soldier of the Great War, the corporate world shenanigans behind Memoir from Antproof Case, they all make for very rewarding reading experiences and, yet, do not prepare us for his latest opus – Freddy and Fredericka.
If you’re an avid watcher of the British Royal Family, or follow reality shows, such as Simple Life (with Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie), or just want a high-concept, laugh-out-loud novel, Freddy and Fredericka is a must-buy on your next visit to Powerbooks. The novel is a wonderful "What if..." scenario as only Mark Helprin could dream up. Think of Freddy as Prince Charles and Fredericka as Lady Diana: wonder what would have happened if early on in their fairy-tale marriage, the suitability of our plucky Prince to ascend the throne was put into question, and in order to prove his worth, the couple are parachuted incognito and without any money "behind former colony lines" – into New Jersey. In addition, for close to a year, like on some quest for the Holy Grail that takes them across the continent, they will be forced to fend for themselves, survive and "find themselves." This is the wacky premise of the novel, and in typical Helprin fashion, much of what follows is both hilarious and makes bulls-eye observations about what passes for lifestyle and modern living. Even a fictitious Camilla Parker-Bowles is present and accounted for.
If one staged a reality show with the British royalty as ready victims and subjects of the show, Freddy and Fredericka would come close to showing us the vainglorious precipice on which today’s royalty stands. An anachronism for the times, expedient and yet loved and treasured, these monarchs and their families remain fodder for worldwide publications. Yet, the nagging question remains: do they deserve all this attention, all the money, privilege, and accouterments that attach to their rank? Are they really any better than us commoners? Is it mere birth and chance that separates us from them? Mixing myth with reality has always been Helprin’s forte and this book is no exception. An enigmatic Mr. Neil is introduced when the qualifications of Freddy are being queried. Much later in the novel, Freddy gleans, while on his Camelot-like escapade, that Mr. Neil is an anagram for Merlin.
Mark Helprin presents us with a pitch-perfect exposition of this conundrum that is modern royalty. This fiction takes on several of the issues that confound our real lives. The stiff and peculiar jargon of the royals, the formal and pedantic dialogue that distinguishes British parliament, the ocean-wide gap that exists between American English and British English – they all form elements of the wonderful book Helprin delivers.
That whole question of how much Charles really loved Diana, of how "deep" can a Sloane Ranger be, of how sane Prince Philip and even Queen Elizabeth are (the royalty-equals-loony equation, thanks to all the inbreeding): these are all given a light-hearted touch by Helprin.
And it’s the writing that marks this novel as peculiarly Helprin territory. As when he writes of marriage: it is "the long war between ancient families trapped in close proximity by lust." And when Helprin has to describe the scenery as being experienced by our royal couple as they leave Washington DC as hoboes on a Westbound train, he uses points of reference that are so apropos: "The water was a color somewhere between saddle brown, cafe au lait and gunmetal blue, the sky what royal delft was made of, and the all the monuments that they were leaving as white as the whitest ruins of antiquity."
While on their American road trip, Fredericka and Freddy are incognito in letter and spirit, so Helprin writes that they "had never saved money, or known anyone who had to, and had thought it a religious practice... (and so she asks) ‘Are we Buddhists now?’"
Early on, when discussing country homes – Freddy has named his Moocock – Fredericka defends her father naming his country home Feta, and suggests they rename Moocock to Edam or Gorgonzola: "Sapsago Hall or Mozzarella, I know, the Princess of Wales at her country estate, Camembert." And, of course, Freddy sputters, incensed that he names his home after a cheese, never believing that Moocock is just as absurd a name.
If you’re looking for a light, fun-filled, humorous read that still manages to tackle weighty issues and give you substantial food for thought, Freddy and Fredericka comes highly recommended. Beyond the laughter-charged picaresque, there’s social commentary that can’t be ignored or not pondered. Helprin has always written novels with scale and depth. Even if they are caricatures, the title characters evoke sympathy and pathos. This may be one of the lighter, more accessible books Helprin has produced, and yet stands as one of his best.
By Mark Helprin
Penguin Press, 576 pages
Available at Powerbooks
Mark Helprin has always been one of my favorite contemporary American writers. While I must confess a bias towards British writers, such as William Boyd, Julian Barnes, A.N. Wilson and Jonathan Coe, Helprin and Paul Auster immediately spring to mind when quizzed about who my favorites are among those writing fiction in America today. Helprin has that knack for taking seemingly straightforward concepts or storylines and transmuting them into pithy, thought-provoking novels that will stand the test of time. The contemporary fairy tale center of Winter’s Tale, the World War I backdrop of A Soldier of the Great War, the corporate world shenanigans behind Memoir from Antproof Case, they all make for very rewarding reading experiences and, yet, do not prepare us for his latest opus – Freddy and Fredericka.
If you’re an avid watcher of the British Royal Family, or follow reality shows, such as Simple Life (with Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie), or just want a high-concept, laugh-out-loud novel, Freddy and Fredericka is a must-buy on your next visit to Powerbooks. The novel is a wonderful "What if..." scenario as only Mark Helprin could dream up. Think of Freddy as Prince Charles and Fredericka as Lady Diana: wonder what would have happened if early on in their fairy-tale marriage, the suitability of our plucky Prince to ascend the throne was put into question, and in order to prove his worth, the couple are parachuted incognito and without any money "behind former colony lines" – into New Jersey. In addition, for close to a year, like on some quest for the Holy Grail that takes them across the continent, they will be forced to fend for themselves, survive and "find themselves." This is the wacky premise of the novel, and in typical Helprin fashion, much of what follows is both hilarious and makes bulls-eye observations about what passes for lifestyle and modern living. Even a fictitious Camilla Parker-Bowles is present and accounted for.
If one staged a reality show with the British royalty as ready victims and subjects of the show, Freddy and Fredericka would come close to showing us the vainglorious precipice on which today’s royalty stands. An anachronism for the times, expedient and yet loved and treasured, these monarchs and their families remain fodder for worldwide publications. Yet, the nagging question remains: do they deserve all this attention, all the money, privilege, and accouterments that attach to their rank? Are they really any better than us commoners? Is it mere birth and chance that separates us from them? Mixing myth with reality has always been Helprin’s forte and this book is no exception. An enigmatic Mr. Neil is introduced when the qualifications of Freddy are being queried. Much later in the novel, Freddy gleans, while on his Camelot-like escapade, that Mr. Neil is an anagram for Merlin.
Mark Helprin presents us with a pitch-perfect exposition of this conundrum that is modern royalty. This fiction takes on several of the issues that confound our real lives. The stiff and peculiar jargon of the royals, the formal and pedantic dialogue that distinguishes British parliament, the ocean-wide gap that exists between American English and British English – they all form elements of the wonderful book Helprin delivers.
That whole question of how much Charles really loved Diana, of how "deep" can a Sloane Ranger be, of how sane Prince Philip and even Queen Elizabeth are (the royalty-equals-loony equation, thanks to all the inbreeding): these are all given a light-hearted touch by Helprin.
And it’s the writing that marks this novel as peculiarly Helprin territory. As when he writes of marriage: it is "the long war between ancient families trapped in close proximity by lust." And when Helprin has to describe the scenery as being experienced by our royal couple as they leave Washington DC as hoboes on a Westbound train, he uses points of reference that are so apropos: "The water was a color somewhere between saddle brown, cafe au lait and gunmetal blue, the sky what royal delft was made of, and the all the monuments that they were leaving as white as the whitest ruins of antiquity."
While on their American road trip, Fredericka and Freddy are incognito in letter and spirit, so Helprin writes that they "had never saved money, or known anyone who had to, and had thought it a religious practice... (and so she asks) ‘Are we Buddhists now?’"
Early on, when discussing country homes – Freddy has named his Moocock – Fredericka defends her father naming his country home Feta, and suggests they rename Moocock to Edam or Gorgonzola: "Sapsago Hall or Mozzarella, I know, the Princess of Wales at her country estate, Camembert." And, of course, Freddy sputters, incensed that he names his home after a cheese, never believing that Moocock is just as absurd a name.
If you’re looking for a light, fun-filled, humorous read that still manages to tackle weighty issues and give you substantial food for thought, Freddy and Fredericka comes highly recommended. Beyond the laughter-charged picaresque, there’s social commentary that can’t be ignored or not pondered. Helprin has always written novels with scale and depth. Even if they are caricatures, the title characters evoke sympathy and pathos. This may be one of the lighter, more accessible books Helprin has produced, and yet stands as one of his best.
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