A refuge from this mawkish memorial

Alan Bennett's new story, The Uncommon Reader, about the Queen discovering books, is a joy. Unlike most, I thought The History Boys a bit over-applauded. But this novella, published and read by Bennett at the National next Tuesday, is as good as anything he has ever done.

Chasing the corgis one day, the Queen comes across a travelling library van parked round the back of the palace, serving the kitchens. After a chat, the Queen leaves with a novel by Ivy Compton-Burnett. Not surprisingly, she finds it a little dry. But the following week she takes out Nancy Mitford's The Pursuit of Love and she's off. She just can't stop reading.

A new life has begun for her.

She develops a technique for reading and waving at the same time. She pays less attention to punctuality, rotating her wardrobe, exercising the dogs or studying the programme for royal visits to Wales ("a ride on a super-tram, a ukulele concert and a tour round a cheese factory", as Bennett unappetisingly describes it). She takes a set of Proust to Balmoral and subjects the baffled PM to Proustian charades.

Bennett has plenty of fun with the Queen's reading list. Books by Ian McEwan and AS Byatt are savaged by resentful corgis. She's informed that the security services have disposed of a book she has left under a cushion in the state coach: "'Exploded?' said the Queen. 'But it was Anita Brookner.'" But there's serious intent here too. Books are truly democratic, the Queen appreciates. "Books did not care who was reading them or whether one read them or not. All readers were equal, herself included." And reading changes you. "Books are not about passing the time.

They're about other lives. Other worlds," the Queen observes. "She knew more of people's feelings than she used to and could put herself in someone's place." The downside is that, for the first time, she comes to dread her obligations because she'd rather be reading a book. This feeling has hardly ever been better expressed.

I know it so well myself. At more or less any play, concert, business meeting or friendly get-together, I'd really rather be reading. And there are millions of us similarly determined.

It could be objected that this uncommon reader, the Queen, is really Alan Bennett himself, once again in majestic drag. But then that's what literature does, allows you to put yourself in someone else's place. There would be no better way of ignoring the Diana anniversary than losing yourself in Alan. Queen of our hearts, you might say..