It seems half the world loves Julian Fellowes.  A few mangy souls, like me, remember when he played Kilwillie in “Monarch of the Glen” but once he penned the screenplay to “Gosford Park” his acting days were numbered and his creation of of Downton Abbey and elevation to the House of Lords probably mean we’ll never see him in character again.  Oh well.  A wise person once wrote that authors, at their best, seem to pull back the curtain for their readers and introduce us to a world we wouldn’t otherwise know.   What Julian Fellowes reveals is the inner workings of the British class system and if you think that’s a thing of the past, you need to pick up his novel Snobs.   As of 2009 at least, the aristocracy still owns the most boring, exclusive club in town and the excluded are still trying to get in.

The plot is a simple one:  Edith Lavery is one of those very pretty British girls with a weathy, untitled father and a mother with social ambitions.  She makes the acquaintance of Charles Broughton, an unmarried earl and heir to the Marquis of Uckfield.  (That’s mid-rank in British nobility, lower than a duke but well over the knights, viscouts and barons.)  He’s attracted to her, and she’s been taught from birth to be attracted to his status and every thing that goes with it.   It’s all very exciting for Edith until after the wedding when she realizes she’s married into a rather insular, well-intentioned but dull group of people who live the same type of lives.  Once the novelty of being referred to as Lady Broughton wears off, Edith is ripe for some distraction.  This arrives (unfortunately) in the form of a good-looking actor whose film is being shot at Broughton Hall.  Edith falls from grace, then (socially) on her face when she learns that being an actor’s bit-on-the-side doesn’t carry the same social cache as a well-married countess.  Edith has to consider what her priorities really are and who will make her happy.   Now that that’s aside, here’s what Fellowes says is true of the blue-bloods, if you haven’t guessed it already.

1. Dreadful nicknames.  To the rest of the world, they may be Lord This-a-Whatchit and Lady Whoosis but amongst their own kind, the elite are known by the dreadful nicknames they picked up ages ago, at school.  Knowing and using those nicknames marks you as a member of the Inner Circle.  Imagine declaring your real friendship for a middle-aged Marchioness by continually referring to her as “Googie”.   Yeah, that works.

2. Hideous decorating skills. Part of the nice bit about being an aristocrat is supposed to be the generations your family has possessed titles, houses and the ability/money to furnish said houses but according to Julian Fellows, some of the nobility don’t feel really noble unless they’re surrounded by all the souvenirs their ancestors picked up through the ages.  If Lord Uckley’s great-great-grandsire sent home a frozen husky before he went off adventuring with Robert Falcon Scott, well the husky still stands mute and stuffed by the fireplace today even if the taxidermist didn’t do that great a job and the moths and cinders have made hash of the husky’s coat.  I’d love to see what Extreme Clutter could do with a house like that.

3. Questionable hospitality.  I live in an area where every person is supposed to be hospitable to house guests, even if your home is a rented single-wide trailer.  We create the best meals we can afford, serve the guests the tastiest parts of the chicken and put them to sleep in the most comfortable room in the house.   Not so in England, not if you’re staying with nobility.  This part, I’ll have to quote:

“I have been shown into bathrooms that could just about manage a cold squirt of brown water, bedrooms with doors that don’t shut, blankets like tissue and pillows like rocks.  I have driven an hour cross-country to lunch with some grand relations of my father, who gave me one sausage, two small potatoes and twenty-eight peas.”

Not what you expected, right?

Fellowes goes on to say that not every member of nobility makes their friends suffer like this, nor are they all idiots.   They’re just people who’ve been raised differently and if they’re not the brightest kids in school, they can still become decent, loyal friends.  In the end they’re like the rest of us, trying to do their best, even when they make a right mess of everything.  So try Snobs if you want something frivolous and fun that has just a touch of class.