Reviewed by Elaine Simpson-Long
It is always misleading to read the serialisation of a book in the newspapers. The paper in question will always focus on the more sensational aspects of the story, which will catch the reader’s attention. In the case of The Kings Loot, subtitled The Greatest Royal Jewellery Heist in History, the pre-publication excerpts would lead us to believe that the narrative would centre on the theft of the jewels of the Duchess of Windsor when she and the Duke were on a visit to England in 1946. This particular robbery has always attracted attention, and it was never solved, though one of the investigating officers was adamant that he knew who the thief was.
The Duchess, for some reason unknown to anybody but herself, had not placed her astonishing collection in the safe of the house in which she and her husband were staying, but had insisted on keeping the trunk under her bed. The theft took place and the surrounding furore and publicity was wide and damaging. Some pieces were found scattered over the local countryside, leading the police to believe that it was an opportunistic crime and that the thieves had panicked and fled, dropping some of the loot on the way.
The Duchess insisted it was an inside job and demanded that all the staff be grilled and investigated, much to the annoyance of her hosts, the Earl and Countess of Dudley. Wallis behaved with her usual lack of grace and was quoted as saying that, “A fool would know that with tweeds or other daytime clothes one wears gold and with evening clothes one wears platinum”, which did not endear her to the public or engender much sympathy for her loss. The insurance was claimed and paid, and yet for years it was generally felt that this had been a scam on the Windsors’ part in order to obtain money, with which they were permanently obsessed.
So purchasers of The King’s Loot could be forgiven for thinking that this book would be an in depth discussion of the robbery and its background when in fact this is merely one small part of the narrative. The blurb adds to this impression and also describes the sale of the jewellery of the Duchess after her death. This sale took place in Geneva in 1987 and we are told that,
the staid Swiss town is awash with limousines, journalists and minor European aristocracy. All the best hotels are bursting at the seams. Caviar truffles and foie gras are in short supply while champagne is flooding the market at ridiculously high prices.
We are treated to the life story of the auctioneer ‘the debonair Nicholas Rayner’, and learn how he suffered from nerves,
but even he as he drew aside the curtains that Thursday morning in the pokey little room he occupied at the Hotel de la Paix (after releasing his sumptuous suite as a favour to an old client with deep pockets) and gazed at the majestic saw-toothed, snow-capped Alps, he must have realised that this was likely to be the most incredible event in the lives of a lot of people.
This overwrought and fanciful writing sets the tone of this book. The actual ‘heist’ is buried in the middle of a repetitive narrative which merely retells the story of Edward and Mrs Simpson, the jewels he purchased for her (the author references Suzy Menzies’ excellent books on the Royal jewels extensively) and merely repeats what is in the public domain, and has been for some time, in other books and biographies of this couple, as is clear from the bibliography. The books listed therein cover the lives of the Windsors and I appear to have read most of them.
This is history lite. I am not a snob when it comes to history or biography but I did weary after a while of the author’s style:
assured the collection (her luggage) was safely installed in her suite upstairs Wallis collapsed into a chair in front of a blazing log fire and covered her face with her hands.
On the reading of the will of George V:
A blazing fire in the salon at Sandringham had been stoked for the occasion. Edward was late. He strode confidently towards the others, past the grand piano and plethora of plotted plants. Everyone rose: the King kissed his mother, winked at Wigram.
This is pure fiction. How does the author know that Wallis collapsed or that the King winked? This hyperbole merely attempts to add verisimilitude to an otherwise bland and unconvincing narrative.
I really dislike being negative about a book, I really do, but my lack of patience while reading gradually increased the further I read. I looked up the biography of Richard Wallace and it seems that he has been expelled or threatened with expulsion from most of the institutions he has been associated with. Almost thrown out of university, ejected from the House of Commons press gallery for reading a book during a particularly dull debate (I can sympathise with him here) and threatened with ejection from Wimbledon press seats.
It seems to me that Mr Wallace has written a book daring us to find it and him annoying. I am sure he will be delighted to find that, as far as I am concerned, he has succeeded.
Elaine blogs at Random Jottings
Richard Wallace, The King’s Loot: The Greatest Royal Jewellery Heist in History (History Press, 2024). 978-1803994383, 288pp., hardback.
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Oh boy! The excerpts alone make your case very well — I too love reading biography and history (including “pop” history), but like you there is something about an overwrought tone like this that really, really grates. It’s almost as if the author fancies themselves a novelist and thinks they can deploy the same techniques in a work of nonfiction with no one noticing, and they usually do a very poor job of it.
As I said, I dislike dissing a book as the fact that I do not like it doesn’t mean everyone will agree with me, but this was really poor stuff. Overwrought and over the top. I got the 8 pressing the author sat back and was delighted with his flippancy.