65 pages into Prince Harry’s memoir and I already have a strong opinion
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I was slightly biased before I got the book. I wasn’t against Prince Harry but I just don’t like England. England, where I spent eight years, has a special place in my heart. A dark one. I hate its elitism. And maybe it’s not about its elitism. Maybe my boarding school memories have an element of trauma. And there are other factors that contributed to memories of England. The start of university (Cambridge!) coincided with the start of a painful long-distance relationship. In hindsight, it wasn’t that painful. It was blissful. The girl who was my girlfriend is now my partner of almost 24 years. But it was painful…
I am talking too much about myself, aren’t I? My traumas, my scars…
Onto Prince Harry.
I didn’t watch any interviews or documentaries involving Meghan or Harry. Watching Netflix is just not my thing. I’m not complimenting myself. I run a lot, I read, I listen to music, I watch movies, and I love modern history and pop culture. I just never found the time to watch Netflix — its shows and its documentaries.
That said, I was of course aware of the buzz surrounding Prince Harry’s departure from the royal family.
I take pride in saying — there are some topics I don’t have an opinion on. I just don’t. I don’t know. Prince Harry was one of those topics.
However, all things considered, I was ready to turn my back on him, not that my front or back was ever in Prince Harry’s sight. Just yesterday I read a story on Medium that damned Prince Harry. Called him despicable. Accused him of selling victimhood. I thought it was a smart expression — selling victimhood.
I felt there was something unsettling about Harry pouring so much shit (airing “dirty laundry”) on his family. The family wasn’t doing the same to Harry, at least not publicly.
But then I always struggled with this question:
And then I started reading Harry’s memoir. I bought the book last night at California’s Orange County Airport as I was setting off for Florida.
