At the end of last week, driving up the West Side Highway in downtown Manhattan, we passed the site of the 9/11 memorial. Inside the car on the radio, pundits argued about an averted rail strike and documents seized at Mar-a-Lago. Outside, barriers stood to one side from the previous weekend’s ceremony marking the anniversary of the attacks. As Britain closed out its second week of official mourning for the Queen, much of the US had already moved on.
If this disjunct is inevitable, it still gives rise to a strange, split-screen reality for those living in the US with attachments in Britain. Even on the day of the Queen’s death, a note of cautious irony leavened some of the commentary in the US. “Sorry about your Queen,” said friends, parents at the school gate and, for a day or two, every American I encountered who registered my accent. The condolences were well meant, but it was impossible to miss the mildly amused inquiry underlying them. Roughly: how bothered are you by this? And the corollary: aren’t you people – in the nicest way possible – a tiny bit faking it?
