Don't Tell Alfred

Fanny Wincham, the first-person narrator of the Radlett family saga is now 45-years-old. It's twenty-five years hence her marriage to Alfred Wincham, Oxford theologian, in "Love in a Cold Climate." She and Alfred have two twenty-something Oxford graduates and two mid-teen Eatonites. One of the teens is adopted and whose mother was Linda Radlett, Fanny's cousin from "The Pursuit of Love."As the tale "Don't Tell Alfred" unfolds, the shyly inconspicuous Fanny Wincham is consciously aware the times are changing. The familiar culture, landmarks, and mores codified between the two world wars that which have encapsulated her from birth to marriage, are fast vanishing. Her aging Uncle Matthew's small living quarters in London is the only place where vestiges of the old Alconleigh remain. The middle-aged Fanny is resigned to the fate she would never rise above the bread-and butter-world of her acquaintances. So she thinks.Out of the decaying and languorous orbit of the Oxford life, Fanny and husband Alfred Wincham are thrust into the ostentatious realm of the beau monde and political spotlight. This is due, unexpectedly, of having Alfred appointed as Britain's Ambassador to France. Nothing in her experience could have prepared Fanny to assume the unwonted role of Ambassadress in the City of Light. No sooner after the Winchams have been installed, the dottiness of the ex-ambassadress and Fanny's children and niece have caused much consternation. These domestic disruptions include animal (lobster) rights to Zen Buddhists going about barefooted on embassy grounds, and all the while across the channel two particular Etonites are missing - last seen riding out of the school grounds in a Rolls Royce. If these youthful indiscretions were not discretely managed, they could have a deleterious effect on the new Ambassador. The job of damage-control falls naturally on the new Ambassadress, whose modus operandi, to the extent practicable, is: "Don't Tell Alfred." ***In "Don't Tell Alfred", Nancy Mitford, author of the two earlier Alconleigh saga, "The Pursuit of Love" and "Love in a Cold Climate" has, more or less, completed her biographical and family sketches in the person of Fanny Logan Wincham, et al. Although in real life Nancy Mitford was denied motherhood and later divorced, her hope for a happy marriage, parenthood, and domesticity are fulfilled in this book. Here are two excerpts taken from "Don't Tell Alfred" which illustrate Mitford's tenderness and wit.In the evocation of Fanny's childhood spent at Alconleigh: "Uncle Matthew had a little fire in his [London] sitting-room...Alconleigh in miniature. It had the same smell of wood fire and Virginia cigarettes was filled... the Alconcleft Record Rack. They vividly evoke my childhood and the long evenings at Alconleigh with Uncle Matthew playing his favourite records. I thought with a sigh what an easy time parents and guardians had had in those days.... good little children we seem to have been, i

Don't Tell Alfred catches up with some of the characters from The Pursuit of Love and Love in a Cold Climate, Nancy Mitford's two masterpieces. Once again Fanny Logan is the narrator, but this time the action is set in Paris, where Fanny's husband has been appointed the British Ambassador. Fanny has to deal with the problem of the preceding Ambassadress still being in residence and refusing to leave, then with the multiple problems that come with being related to the Radletts, who are made out to be the battiest aristocrats in Britain.Don't Tell Alfred was written in the late 1950s while Nancy Mitford was living in Paris. A lot of the political inside jokes will fly right over the heads of most readers today, and Mitford's attempts to depict Teddy Boys and rock and roll bands must have seemed unintentionally comic even then. Even though this is not one of Mitford's best works, it does have her sharp wit and felicitous turns of phrase, and for those alone the book is well worth the reading.

Nancy Mitford continues the lives and loves of the Radlett family and their various off-spring. In this Fanny, our narrator, first met in the impeccably charming novel "Pursuit of Love", is now in France of the 1950's with her teenage boys bordering on adulthood and jobs. Her husband, Alfred, has moved from the safe cloisters of Oxford into the dizzying world of international diplomacy and is Ambassador for France. Their first problem is getting rid of the old Ambassadress, Pauline, who, despite having been despatched from the embassy onto a train the week before, is discovered holding court to French society in a lesser used wing and shows little sign of budging.Into this all falls Northey, the daughter of Fanny's cousin, Louisa. Northey has been sent by Louisa to act as Fanny's social secretary, but proves herself singularly unsuited to the position being unable to speak French, and it seems pathologically disinclined to do a lick of work. She is in the way of the British upper-classes, immensely charming and so this is really mostly the story of Northey's pursuit of love. Perhaps not as satirically funny as Mitford's first book in the series but it is still an amusing and witty novel. Characters waltz in and out of scenes without any respect for the plot but with enormous charm and verve. You could still read this book without ever having read any of the others in the series but it would certainly make a lot more sense.

this is the end of the immortal tetralogy that began with 'The Pursuit of Love', and reunites the hitherto discrete characters of 'Love in a Cold Climate' and 'the Blessing'. It is as marvellously funny as ever, written with a disarming surface flippancy, full of seemingly alarming plots petering into nothing, like they do in life. The inter-generational conflict is as marked as ever, although more recognisable to us as Fanny and her people finally face the modern world, which she does with remarkable composure, sense and good humour. The intricacies of post-war Europe (Britain desperate for European unity? Arf!), diplomacy, national crises, the rise of the teenager, the tabloids and pop music give a solid grounding to the flights of eccentricity and romantic comedy.After the Waugh-like economy of 'The Blessing', 'Don't Tell Alfred' is a much freer read, with less ellipses, more detail, and (I'm afraid), a little more padding. Yet for all the big smiles it puts on your face, it reminded me of Anthony Powell's 'Hearing Secret Harmonies', the closing book of his massive novel, 'Dance to the music of time'. Maybe it's because it's the last book of the series, but there is an underlying melancholy throughout, as we see the dying world of the first three novels finally die. Characters alive and vibrant in previous books are suddenly, unemotionally dead; the character of Cedric in 'Climate' undergoes serious revision; and it is dreadful to see mighty Uncle Matthew finally grounded by old age (although there's marvellous life in the old dog yet). The most remarkable thing is Fanny's voice - once a shy, impressionable, envying onlooker, her middle-aged bossiness, confidence (despite the faux-naivete) and control here is beautifully ineffectual. The Yanky Fonzy climax is a great way to end the series.

Nancy Mitford wrote this delightful novel in 1960. Lady Wincham, the unworldly wife of an Oxford Don, is apprehensive when she discovers her husband has been appointed the new ambassador to France. When the Winchams arrive at their new residence, they find that the previous ambassador's wife has refused to leave. Mitford gives a tongue in cheek look at the love/hate relationship between England and France. Alfred Wincham must weather a crisis when a teenage rock star causes a riot of fans in front of the official residence. Mitford fills the book with memorable characters, such as Northey, the lovely but impractical secretary, and the rebellious sons who leave their boarding school to take a high paying factory job. Charles-Eduard, the sophisticated French aristocrat, and his English wife, Grace, are on hand to give the Winchams advice on living in France. Mitford enjoys poking fun at both the English and French. Her humor is more sophisticated than P.G. Wodehouse, but will give the reader some good laughs. If you enjoy this, you may want to read Christmas Pudding or the Blessing.