Amazon.com Review
When Princess Diana died in Paris’s Alma tunnel, she was thirty-seven years old. Had she lived, she would turn fifty on July 1, 2011. Who would the beloved icon be if she were alive today? What would she be doing? And where? One of the most versatile and bold writers of our time, Monica Ali has imagined a different fate for Diana in her spectacular new novel, Untold Story. Diana’s life and marriage were both fairy tale and nightmare rolled into one. Adored by millions, she suffered rejection, heartbreak, and betrayal. Surrounded by glamour and glitz and the constant attention of the press, she fought to carve a meaningful role for herself in helping the needy and dispossessed. The contradictions and pressures of her situation fueled her increasingly reckless behavior, but her stature and her connection with her public never ceased to grow. If Diana had lived, would she ever have found peace and happiness, or would the curse of fame always have been too great?
Fast forward a decade after the (averted) Paris tragedy, and an Englishwoman named Lydia is living in a small, nondescript town somewhere in the American Midwest. She has a circle of friends: one owns a dress shop; one is a Realtor; another is a frenzied stay-at-home mom. Lydia volunteers at an animal shelter, and swims a lot. Her lover, who adores her, feels she won’t let him know her. Who is she?
Untold Story is about the cost of celebrity, the meaning of identity, and the possibility—or impossibility—of reinventing a life. Ali’s fictional princess is beautiful, intrepid, and resourceful and has established a fragile peace. And then the past threatens to destroy her new life. Ali has created a riveting novel inspired by the cultural icon she calls “a gorgeous bundle of trouble.”
Amazon Exclusive: Joanne Harris Reviews Untold Story
Joanne Harris is the author of Blueeyed Boy, The Lollipop Shoes and Chocolat.
In Untold Story, Monica Ali has managed to do what the tabloids never did. She made me care about Diana. More than that, she made me admire the woman she has created out of the myth. This is a terrific, clever, multi-layered and subtle book (and let’s not forget - hugely entertaining!), which deserves more acclaim than it has received so far.
Untold Story is a novel that can be read on many levels. At first glance, it’s a thriller that taps into a number of female fantasies; reinvention, romance, adventure and the dark fairytale that was Diana, Princess of Wales – a story that nearly all of us followed guiltily, in the tabloids, as its subject hurtled inevitably towards self- destruction. Looking beneath the surface, however, it becomes clear that Untold Story is much more than just a nicely-written piece of parallel tabloidery. It is a commentary on the nature of identity, of how we are judged, not by what we actually do, but by what we are perceived to be in a world where artifice rules and where truth matters less than story. It is about what it’s like to be a troublesome, spirited woman in a world where women are meant to conform. It’s about the choices a woman must make when trying to take control of her life. It’s about letting go of the labels that others try to stick onto us. It’s about fighting expectations – a thing that the author herself has done, in her quiet way, ever since Brick Lane – in the face of a vicious tabloid machine. It is a wonderful piece of subversion disguised as mere escapism, and I hope it sells millions.
Review
"Monica Ali has always been a brilliant and provocative writer, but Untold Story is not only a gripping read but a compassionate portrait of a woman in turmoil--her finest novel yet."--Gary Shteyngart, author of Super Sad True Love Story
“Haunting and intensely readable, this is something between a thriller and a ghost story.” —Lady Antonia Fraser
“A terrific, clever, multi-layered and subtle book (and let’s not forget - hugely entertaining!).”—Joanne Harris, author of Chocolat and Blueeyedboy
“It is always said that Princess Diana was hunted and haunted, that her story contained the seeds of a contemporary myth. It was obvious that only the imagination of a first-rate novelist could master that material and make it fully and unforgettably alive. We now have the book we have been waiting for in Monica Ali's Untold Story. It is a beautiful, gripping accomplishment, a treat for the heart and the head, and will be a joy to readers who believe in the possibility that a book can transform your basic sense of life.”—Andrew O'Hagan, Booker-shortlisted author of Our Fathers, Be Near Me and The Life and Opinions of Maf the Dog
“Ali tells her story with unobtrusive, restrained prose... We’ve long since disappeared into the fiction. Lydia has become her own character, Diana a ghost: naive and vulnerable, self-centered, familiar to us in her self-destruction and her dark fairy-tale life but now entirely real and sympathetic. This remarkable transformation allows Ali to ponder the essence of what makes a person: in this case the sheer tenacity of a clever fighter, both silly and bold –and clearly the author’s impetus for taking on, with astounding confidence, the woman who captivated the entrie world.”—San Francisco Chronicle
“An unapologetic hybrid of a novel, a literary examination of identity and a page-turning thriller, complete with car chase.”—O, the Oprah magazine
“Ms. Ali builds tension as slickly as any thriller screenwriter: we find ourselves avidly rooting for Lydia to elude her stalker and somehow to hold on to the normal life she has made for herself.”—Michiko Kakutani, New York Times
“A dazzling feat... All the pistons are firing.”—Washington Post
“Norman Rockwell couldn’t paint a more affectionate portrait of small-town America.”—USA Today
“A masterpiece of suspense… This is a startlingly intelligent, perceptive and entertaining piece of fiction. It's quite brilliant.”—Daily Mirror (UK)
“Thoughtful, compassionate… A suspenseful and gripping read.”—Financial Times
“Ali's third-person princess is a very convincing and sympathetic figure… Extremely skillfully done.”—Observer (UK)
“Builds to a thrilling and rewarding finish… Daring and engrossing.”—Booklist (starred review)
“Irresistible...Lydia’s unsent letters...are delightful, containing the novel’s emotional core.”—New York Times Book Review
“Astonishing… Tightly structured and lyrically told.”—People (four stars)
“Brilliant... Riveting to the end.”—Buffalo News
“A great beach read... [Ali] is a gifted author.”—ABC News
“Rich... heart-felt writing.”—Miami Herald
“A revelation... A compassionate portrait of the flawed and magnificent woman.”—Globe and Mail
“Ali, a gorgeous stylist, has a wicked good time describing Grabowski in all his rumpled, greasy glory... beautifully written and cleverly imagined.”—Cleveland Plain Dealer
“Builds to a thrilling and rewarding finish… Daring and engrossing.”—Booklist (starred review)
“A sympathetic...insightful portrait of a woman held captive by the demons from her past.”—Jerusalem Post
“A masterpiece of suspense… This is a startlingly intelligent, perceptive and entertaining piece of fiction. It's quite brilliant.”—Daily Mirror (UK)
“Ali packs so much into the book, as she builds a portrait of the world's most famous woman at breaking point, introducing elements of doubt through her paranoia, her emotional state and her erratic behavior prior to her death…. Ali builds the tension masterfully… A compelling and intriguing look at celebrity and the media through a fascinating and complex character.”—Sunday Telegraph (Australia)
“UntoldStory is a superior thriller.”—The Daily Telegraph (UK)
“Absorbing… Ali has written a thoughtful book about a serious theme: the insanity of celebrity culture… Exercising the novelist's right to imagine, she has tried to get inside the head of the biggest celebrity of our age. It's a bold move, and it will offend people who have made a quasi-religious idol of the princess. But the artistry of Ali's execution justifies her risky choice of material… While reading this book, you genuinely feel she might still be out there somewhere, living the unobserved life she never had.”—Weekend Australian
“An exciting psychological thriller with several unpredictable twists. Ali takes the testosterone-loaded concept of the stake-out and adds a feminine touch.”—The Age (Australia)
About the Author
Monica Ali has been named by Granta as one of the twenty best young British novelists. She is the author of In the Kitchen, Alentejo Blue, and Brick Lane, which was shortlisted for the Man Booker Prize. She lives in London with her husband and two children.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Some stories are never meant to be told. Some can only be told as fairy tales. Once upon a time three girlfriends threw a little party for a fourth who had yet to arrive by the time the first bottle of Pinot Grigio had been downed. Walk with me now across the backyard of the neat suburban house, in this street of widely spaced heartlands, past the kid’s bike and baseball bat staged just so on the satin green lawn, up to the sweet glow of the kitchen window, and take a look inside. Three women, one dark, one blonde, the third a redhead—all in their prime, those tenuous years when middle age is held carefully at bay. There they are, sitting at the table, innocent of their unreality, oblivious to the story, naively breathing in and out. “Where is Lydia?” says Amber, the blonde. She is a neat little package. Delicate features, Peter Pan collar dress, French tip manicure. “Where the heck can she be?” “We holding off on the sandwiches, right?” says Suzie, the dark-haired friend. She didn’t have time to get changed before she came out. There is a splash of Bolognese sauce on her T-shirt. She made it in a hurry and left it for the kids and babysitter to eat. “These reduced-calorie Ruffles? Forget it, not going there.” She pushes the bowl of chips away. “Should I call her again?” says Amber. “I left three messages already.” She closed up her clothing store an hour early to be sure to get everything ready on time. The redhead, Tevis, takes a small phallus-shaped crystal out of her pocket and sets it on the table. She says, “I had a premonition this morning.” “You see a doctor about that?” Suzie, in her favorite khaki pants and stained T-shirt, sits like a man, right ankle on left knee. She gives Amber a wink. “You guys can mock all you want,” says Tevis. She has come straight from work. In her pantsuit, with her hair in a tight bun, pursing her lips, she looks close to prim—the opposite of how she would want to be seen. “We’re not mocking,” says Amber. “Was it about Lydia?” “Not specifically,” says Tevis in a very Tevis way. She cups her hands above the stone. “You carry that around with you?” says Suzie. Her hair is aubergine dark, a hint of purple, and has that freshly colored shine. She plucks a carrot out of the refrigerator and peels it directly onto the table that has been laid with the pretty crockery, hand-painted red and pink roses, fine bone china cups and saucers with handles so small they make you crook your little finger, just like a real English high tea. “Don’t worry, I’m clearing this up.” “You better,” says Amber, but she reaches across and scoops up the peelings herself. If Lydia walks in that second everything has to look right. She feels guilty about packing Serena and Tyler off to friends’ houses when they’d wanted to stay and say happy birthday to Lydia. Wouldn’t Lydia have preferred to see the children rather than have everything arranged just so? Amber tucks her hair behind her ears and pulls a loose thread from her sleeve. “Please say it wasn’t about her.” “Jeez Louise,” says Suzie. “She’ll be working late. You know how she loves those dogs.” “Why isn’t she answering her phone?” says Amber. “I didn’t wrap her present. Think she’ll mind?” Suzie snaps off the end of the carrot with her front teeth. The teeth are strong and white but irregular; they strike an attitude. “I’m not trying to worry anyone,” says Tevis. She puts the crystal back in the pocket of her tailored jacket. She is a Realtor and has to look smart. It’s not who she is. It’s what she does. As she herself has pointed out many times. But this is a town full of skeptics, people who buy into all that bricks-and-mortar-and-white-goods fandango instead of having their chakras cleansed. “Seriously,” says Suzie, “you’re not.” She loves Tevis. Tevis has no kids so you talked about other stuff. Suzie has four kids and once you’d talked about those and then talked about the other moms’ kids, it was time to head home and pack sports gear for the following day. Tevis being childless meant you felt a bit sorry for her, and a bit jealous. Probably the same way she felt about you. She could be dreamy, or she could be intense, or some strange combination of the two. And she was fun to tease. “Remember what happened last time?” says Tevis. “Last time what? You had a premonition? Is it about Lydia or not?” Amber, she is pretty sure, knows Lydia better than the others do. She got friendly with her first, nearly three years ago now. “I don’t know,” says Tevis. “It’s just a bad feeling. I had it this morning, right after I got out of the shower.” “I had a bad feeling in the shower this morning,” says Suzie. “I felt like I was going to eat a whole box of Pop-Tarts for breakfast.” “How late is she anyway? God, an hour and a half.” Amber looks wistfully at the silver cake forks fanned out near the center of the table. They were nearly black when she found them in the antiques store over on Fairfax, but have cleaned up beautifully. “And guess what,” said Suzie. “I did. The whole freakin’ box.” Tevis takes off her jacket. “The air always gets like this before a thunderstorm.” “What?” says Suzie. “It’s a beautiful evening. You’re not in Chicago anymore.” “I’m just saying,” says Tevis. She fixes Suzie a stare. “Come on, Tevis, don’t try to creep us out.” The cucumber sandwiches are beginning to curl at the edges. It is kind of dumb, Amber knows it, to have English high tea at seven in the evening. More like eight thirty now. “Yeah, let’s just hear it, girl, the last time you had a premonition . . .” Suzie begins at her usual rat-a-tat pace, but suddenly tails off. “So you do remember,” says Tevis. She turns to Amber. “Please try not to be alarmed. But last time I had a premonition was the day Jolinda’s little boy ran out in the street and got hit by the school bus.” “And you saw that? You saw that ahead of time?” Tevis hesitates a moment, then scrupulously shakes her head. “No. It was more like a general premonition.” “And that was—what?—two years ago? How many you had since then?” Amber, her anxiety rising, glances at the Dundee cake, enthroned on a glass stand as the table’s centerpiece. It is mud brown and weighs a ton. Lydia mentioned it one time, a childhood favorite, and Amber found a recipe on the Internet. “None,” says Tevis, “until today.” “You never get a bad feeling in the mornings?” says Suzie. “Man, I get them, like, every day.” Amber gets up and starts washing the three dirty wineglasses. She has to do something and it’s all she can think of except, of course, calling Lydia again. But when Lydia strides through the door, that swing in her hips, that giggle in her voice, Amber doesn’t want to feel too foolish. “Damn it, I’m calling again,” she says, drying her hands. “There’s no reason why it should be to do with Lydia,” says Tevis, but the more she says it, the more certain she feels that it is. Only a couple of days ago, Lydia came over and asked for the tarot cards, something she had always refused before. Tevis laid the cards out on the mermaid mosaic table but then Rufus wagged his tail and knocked two cards to the floor.
