60 pages • 2 hours read
American Royals
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Themes
Duty Versus Desire
In American Royals, the Washingtons and the American monarchy represent the human embodiment of freedom, hope, and stability in a turbulent country. On his deathbed, Beatrice’s grandfather tells her that although monarchs once existed to be served by people, “now the monarch must serve the people” (11) and place the nation’s needs above all else, including the monarch’s desires. McGee uses Beatrice’s subplot throughout the novel to showcase the blurry lines between duty and desire and to demonstrate how choosing a country over one’s desires is much easier said than done.
From the moment Beatrice was a child, she was expected to prioritize the needs of her country over her personal wants. She remembers that “In service to God and country had been painted on the walls of her nursery” (11). Beatrice has never been given a choice to choose anything other than the monarchy, and because she is destined to become the first Queen of America, she has a “steeper road to climb” (390) than anyone else in her family lineage. Beatrice will not only take on the most challenging role in her country, but she will face sexism and bigotry along the way. Beatrice’s decision to accept this “near-impossible burden” (218) isn’t truly her own: She has always believed that she has no choice in the matter.
Although Beatrice shows hesitation when her parents ask her to start looking for a husband in Chapter 1, she knows what is expected of her: “It [is] more important that she marry someone who could do this job, and do it well, than that she follow her heart” (11). In a world where marrying for love is the status quo, this has never been an option for Beatrice or any of the nobles in her line of succession. Marrying someone like Teddy Eaton is simply the “right” thing to do for her country, and although Beatrice loves Connor, she knows that he will “never end up in a manila folder of approved, appropriate options” (91). Connor may be brave, chivalrous, and honest, but because he has no title, Beatrice’s intense sense of duty and family expectations mean he is strictly off-limits. According to Beatrice’s father, she must choose a husband who will make it easier for her to rule the country to the best of her abilities, and while “[Teddy] will help lessen that burden for [Beatrice] in a thousand small ways,” Connor will “prove nothing but a hindrance” (390) because he doesn’t know the ways of court or nobility.
Still, as Beatrice’s feelings for Connor intensify, she finds it harder and harder to put her personal feelings on the back burner. Throughout the novel, Beatrice’s conflicted feelings about her family’s expectations and her duty to the country continue to build, and she wonders if there is any possible way to “do the job [she] [was] born to do without sacrificing [her]self along the way” (301). When her father insists that she do what is best for America, Beatrice the girl lashes out and asks if “America [is] going to love [her] the way Connor does” because “all [she’s] ever done for America is give and give and give, and still America wants more!” (393). Beatrice realizes that doing things in service to her country is like pouring into a black hole: She is only human, and she will rob herself of every ounce of joy, individuality, and love if she constantly chooses a country of over 300 million people over herself and her desires. In her state of deepest sorrow, Beatrice still defaults to the duty she was born to take on, and with her father’s death, Beatrice’s rebellion comes to an abrupt halt. Duty has won out, and Beatrice’s future is sealed.
Power and Privilege
Privilege, or a special right granted to an exclusive group of people, is alive and well in the world we live in. However, in the monarchical society of American Royals, privilege—especially for those of a certain social class—is more blatant and obvious thanks to the court rankings. Those with a title have access to certain privileges that commoners do not, including access to the royal family, and as McGee illustrates through the character of Daphne Deighton, the quest for privilege and power can corrupt a person until their moral compass is severely misaligned.
Daphne’s family has a baronetcy, one of the lowest-ranking titles in the court of nobility. The Deightons’ nobility is new, and McGee heavily implies that Daphne’s grandfather earned this title through a salacious relationship with Empress Anna of Russia. The Deightons have a family legacy of doing whatever is necessary to get their foot in the door of the royal court, including engaging in seduction, and Daphne learned to take up the family trade as a teenager. She recalls visiting Washington Palace in eighth grade and realizing “why her parents clung so obsessively to their aristocratic status. Because that status was their window into this” (28): the world of grandeur, luxury, and privilege that comes with having a title. Daphne decides that she won’t settle until she has reached the top of the ladder: She might never be queen one day, but being an American princess is certainly attainable if she can use her beauty and charm to attract the attention of the only American prince, Jefferson.
Daphne’s fixation with Jefferson and all that he can offer her by way of power and privilege consumes her entire life. She spends every waking moment of her existence watching the prince, “set[ting] a dozen internet alerts for the prince’s name” and “constantly check[ing] social media for every last shred of information about his status” (26). She obsessively checks her appearance, plasters on a perfect smile and public image, and is hyper-aware of every movement she makes, especially when cameras are present. In her quest for power, Daphne has created a cage for herself: she performs at all times, and she can’t escape the scrutiny when the world is watching and expects her to be nothing less than perfect at all times. When Daphne catches Jefferson cheating on her at the graduation party, she doesn’t entertain the thought of being angry with him: Instead, she hyper-focuses on “win[ning] Jefferson back” because “even knowing what she [knows], she still want[s] to be a princess” (29). Jefferson is simply a means to an end, and any personal feelings she has tied up in their relationship are relative to Jefferson’s power and whatever luxuries and privileges he can offer Daphne. As Daphne sinks farther and farther into desperation, her antics grow more wild and underhanded, and although her parents were the initial catalysts in Daphne’s quest for power, they “[have] no idea what Daphne [is] capable of—no idea what she [has] already done, in pursuit of this crown” (31). Daphne has lied, manipulated, sabotaged, and even engaged in criminal behavior for the chance to become a princess, and she has lost sight of herself along the way.
The Public Versus Private Self
On his deathbed, Beatrice’s grandfather tells her that “from this point onward [she] [is] two people at once: Beatrice the girl, and Beatrice, heir to the Crown” (11). Beatrice is told that she must live a double life: honoring herself as an individual in private and putting on the best show possible as the future monarch in the public eye. However, after years of indoctrination and limited options, Beatrice finally starts to push back against the burden of duty that has kept her compliant for years, and the two sides of her—Beatrice the girl and Beatrice the monarch—begin to war against one another. McGee shows both sides of Beatrice and the Washington family to emphasize the remarkable differences between a person’s personal and public image and to remind the reader that rulers of any caliber are humans with human emotions, wants, and needs.
Years of training and discipline from her parents and her etiquette master have taught Beatrice that she must be on high alert and constantly monitor herself. Beatrice has been taught to walk a certain way, sit a certain way, and even get out of cars a certain way to protect her public image. Beatrice has even been trained to “keep her emotions hidden from public display” (7), lest the country think she is too emotional or hysterical to do her job well. This has especially impacted her dating life: As the future queen, Beatrice has “always known that she couldn’t date the wrong person—couldn’t even kiss the wrong person” (7), and if she wants to project the image of strength and consistency, she will have to follow through and marry anyone she dates publicly. After all, dating more than one person can be damning in the court of public opinion, especially in a culture that vilifies women for having more than one partner. Beatrice decides that “it was much safer if the heir to the throne had no sexual past for the press to rake through: no baggage from past boyfriends, no exes who might sell intimate secrets in a tell-all memoir” (7), which could damage her reputation and cast a shadow over her rule as queen before it even begins. After all, Beatrice’s father tells her that when she is queen, “the people will look to [her] as the ultimate symbol of stability in a confusing and ever-changing world” (214). Beatrice is forbidden from being a real person in the public eye, and as a monarch, she is expected to project the confidence of a goddess among mortals or an all-knowing, all-wise parent over an entire country, regardless of her status as a young girl or a mere mortal.
Privately, however, Beatrice is worried that she won’t be able to live up to the expectations that she has created for herself. When she learns that the king is dying, Beatrice panics and tells her father that she isn’t ready to be the Queen of America: She is “terrified [she’ll] mess up” (214), and she thought she would have more time to perform. In this scene, McGee highlights Beatrice’s fear as a reminder that there are two Beatrices, and Beatrice the young woman is far less confident than Beatrice the heir. However, her father assures her that “no one is ever ready for this” (214), and he reminds her that Beatrice the girl is allowed to feel inadequate and unprepared, as long as Beatrice the heir is ready to rise to the challenge.
When Beatrice weeps over her father’s prognosis, she knows that she “need[s] to do all her crying now, in private, because she wouldn’t get another moment like this” (213). Beatrice the heir cannot cry in public, because to do so would project an image of weakness. Throughout the novel, Beatrice is forced to negotiate between two sides of her identity: Beatrice the girl, who longs to be loved and vulnerable and free, and Beatrice the heir, who tirelessly carries out the duties of the Crown and upholds the public image expected of a Washington.
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