interesting

This juicy biography of the photographer who married and divorcedthe Queen's sister is authorised, in the sense that AntonyArmstrong-Jones, the 1st Earl of Snowdon, gave its author "fullaccess" to his archives and fixed her up with introductions to hisfriends and, erm, servants. But you have to wonder what he makes ofit now.
If he's pleased with it - and I gather from British newspapercolumns that he is not displeased - then the man must be even moreof an egomaniac than the text suggests. Anne de Courcy tries hardto push Snowdon's good deeds: his work for the disabled. Shepraises the Snowdon Aviary at London Zoo, which he helped tocreate, and her admiration for his photography seems to know nobounds ("His true genius," she writes, "lies in the field ofphoto-reportage", which was news to me). But there is reallynothing she can do.
The other evidence just piles up. So, Snowdon can be charming. So,he made sure that the gamekeepers on royal shoots got a vacuumflask of hot stew for lunch, just like their employers.Unfortunately, he is also, to judge by his biography, haughty,self-regarding, selfish, needy, remote, rude, chilly, oversexed andhighly spoilt.
No wonder Princess Margaret fell for him. It must have been likelooking in a mirror. Snowdon's troubles began, psychologicallyspeaking, in childhood. It was a pretty posh sort of childhood,with several grand houses in the family but Mummy and Daddy weredivorced and when Mummy remarried, she favoured her new family overpoor Tony and his sister, Susan (their father, RonaldArmstrong-Jones, was a mere barrister).
His mother, Anne, didn't even visit her teenage son when he wasrecovering from poliomyelitis and it's possible that his attitudeto women was sealed as he lay alone in his hospital bed.
Thereafter, relationships were on his terms only, and his marriageto Margaret was doomed. It wasn't only that they both had to be themost important person in the room; it was that, thanks to royalprotocol, it was infuriatingly difficult for Snowdon to absenthimself from proceedings. Still, for a while, they were a perfectmatch and de Courcy's account of the period before and just aftertheir marriage in 1960 makes for joyous reading. Their sharedvanity was immense.
The couple used to sunbathe on the roof of Snowdon's studio,preferably on tinfoil, to better reflect the rays, and he once dyedhis hair - it came out apricot - so they would "match". Then thereare the mysteries and outrages of royal life. If, at dinner, theprincess did not help herself to potatoes, no one else waspermitted to take any. This is enough to drive anyone bats and,sure enough, once the first glow had departed from their union,Tony began leaving lists around - "things I hate about you" - forhis darling wife to read. "You look like a Jewish manicurist," wasa message she once found in her glove drawer.
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