Oo, she’s gone
Nostalgia for grandmothers
Dear Friend,
I hope you have been having a good week. If you have signed up since my last letter, thank you very much and welcome!
I happened to be on a Eurostar from Paris to London when the death of the Queen was announced on Thursday.
In the departures area I was sat next to a group of British colleagues who had clearly been in Paris for business. It wasn’t totally apparent from my eavesdropping what field they worked in, but they said the word “product” a lot.
Four of the work group were on the seats in front on the Eurostar. When we emerged out of the Channel Tunnel, they checked their phones and one of them, a man with a London accent, proclaimed. “Oo, she’s gone.” Cue everyone around getting out their phones to check, apart from a young couple on the seats diagonally across from me, who continued their game of Uno.
It’s been a strange few of days to be in the UK: it doesn’t feel dramatic or hysterical but just sort of quietly grim. A couple of reflections below.
“I suppose I shall live in this stamp now”, drawn on the Eurostar
I am no royalist. In fact, I have often described the Queen as the ultimate mob boss because she always kept her hands clean. Whatever scandals her family were embroiled in, or gaffes they committed, you couldn’t pin a thing on the boss herself. For example, even Meghan Markle and Prince Harry in their Oprah interview were at pains to state that the racism and maltreatment they were talking about did not include the Queen.
The untouchability of Elizabeth was something that extended over the Channel too. A few months ago I was staying in the French countryside outside of Nîmes and got chatting to the man in the house next door. A propos of very little, he started telling me how much he admired the queen. “Elle est superbe, vraiment excellente, non?”. “Yes of course”, I replied. He followed up with: “elle est un peu notre reine aussi”. Or ‘she’s a little bit our queen, too’. I struggled to make sense of his statement logically, but I smiled and nodded at the sentiment.
More recently I was in the back of a taxi with two alarmingly chic French women for the purposes of a press event, and they were keen to tell me me how much they adored Queen Elizabeth. “Elle est une professionnelle”, was their conclusion—and that is undeniable.
—
In the aftermath of the queen’s death, I have mostly kept thinking about my own grandmother, born in 1919. She was from Iraq and grew up in India in the 1920s and ‘30s. After the War, she worked in Japan and then Hong Kong, where she met her English husband. Her life was defined by her times: the War, late British Empire, immigration, the beginning of long-distance travel, multiculturalism, women navigating new financial independence while still being expected to prioritise a domestic life.
Nana lived to 95, meaning I was lucky enough to know her into my adulthood. Though her life had little in common with the British monarch, she always felt connected to the Queen, periodically presenting us with gifts of royal memorabilia, carefully ordered by post from the Daily Mail. Throughout her life, my nana documented her travels and the events of the day, and I thought, too, of her article cuttings about the royals, cheerfully pasted or paper-clipped onto the big brown pages of well-thumbed scrapbooks. It gave me quite a visceral feeling of nostalgia.
A tin from the Queen’s coronation in 1952
“Milady Toffee”
What the Queen’s death confronts us with is the passage of time, the inevitable march down the generations, and I’ve been thinking about how my life too will soon encompass history that is ever fading in the rear mirror. Remembering Queen Elizabeth II’s reign will be (if I’m lucky enough to live a long life) something that ages me. In the same way my generation will be the very last to remember life without being constantly online, and the same way my nana remembered the War.
It strikes me that if this were France, the mourning would be more emotional and dramatic. Here, it feels more just quietly sombre. A reality check to the age we’re living in. What now? Liz Truss, energy bills, King Charles and a cold winter. Below are two portraits I painted back on the day of Prince Philip’s funeral in 2021. I call it my “Problematic Royal Diptych”.
What have you been doing the last few days? Have you been having any strong feelings about the passing of the Queen? Or any un-strong feelings? Let me know by writing back.
La Rentrée: exhibitions to look forward to
I’ll be back in Paris next week and I’m looking forward to the cultural “rentrée”. Including:
Frida Kahlo, Beyond Appearances at the Palais Galliera fashion museum, which will exhibit more than 200 garments and artefacts from the artist’s home. (15 September 2022-15 March 2023)
Füssli, the realm of dreams and the fantastic at the opulent Musée Jacquemart André. I’m looking forward to visiting a preview of the exhibit this week to wander the romantic, ethereal works of this Swiss-British painter who was interested in Shakespeare, myth, dream and fantasy. (16 September 2022-23 January 2023)
Thirty-second book club
This week, I’ve been enjoying dipping into Jerusalem: Chronicles from the Holy City. It’s a travelogue and memoir in the form of a graphic novel by Canadian/French cartoonist Guy Delisle. Delisle has produced a few of these travelogues about a number of cities across the world. His partner works for Médicins sans Frontières, and while she is posted on a mission somewhere, he chronicles the place.
Talking of talented cartoonists, I am very much enjoying the new newsletter of Tor Freeman, the ReposiTORy. It’s a treasure trove of charming characters and sketches. One of her creations, Oncle Fabien, even gave me a reply to a question I asked.
Tor Freeman, the ReposiTORy
Thank you very much for reading this letter.
If you are enjoying Pen Friend, please do write back to me—either in the comments or by email (hannah@hannahmeltzer.com). You can also share it with a friend of yours!
Thank you for indulging me in my royal reflections. For better or worse, next week’s letter is likely to be less royal, and more French.
Yours,
Hannah
"Quietly grim" is just right. The radio playing all sad songs, the photos of the Queen everywhere, it's been fairly inescapable. Interesting to read about your grandmother, and your saying she was defined by the times she lived in. The Queen's death made me think of my dad, and a very similar feeling - and another real step away from the 20th century.