In the acknowledgments section of Casey McQuiston’s debut novel Red, White & Royal Blue, the author cites (among many things) Mitski’s “Texas Reznikoff” as a source of inspiration. This song—the kickoff track to Bury Me at Makeout Creek—distills the purest elements of McQuiston’s book: “But I’ve been anywhere and it’s not what I want / I wanna be still with you,” lilting and melancholic in its longing, then giving way to a raucous closing verse. It is a sketch that captures the niche every pair of lovers hopes to find, a secret place where they can “keep their socks on in bed.” Something ridiculous and hopeful like that.
Red, White & Royal Blue can claim all the above-used adjectives: pure, raucous, melancholic, ridiculous and hopeful. With it, McQuiston has given us an uproariously funny and beautifully crafted romantic comedy which also serves as a no-holds-barred indulgence for what could have been if the events of 2016 had happened differently.
Alex Claremont-Díaz, son of the United States’ first female president (yes, it takes us there), has only ever wanted to pursue a career in politics. His manic high energy and fierce intelligence charm everyone, making a name for himself as a man about town and a member of the White House trio—a formidable triptych consisting of Alex; his sister June, a budding journalist; and Nora, their best friend/Veep granddaughter/wunderkind of data analysis. Media outlets hail them as the pinnacle of high-achievement and effortless cool—the who’s who of millennial success. Everyone wants to know them.
Despite the constant press attention and the pressures associated with being a part of the First Family, Alex has no intention of slowing down or avoiding the limelight. Ambition reigns supreme until he reaches his goals. After graduation from George Washington University and a much-coveted stint on his mother’s re-election campaign, it’s upward and onward for the handsome, bold-as-brass twenty-two-year-old. Until, of course, it isn’t.
An invitation to the British royal wedding leads to a run-in with Alex’s arch-nemesis, Prince Henry of Wales, and everything goes up in flames. Upending a $75,000 wedding cake tends to piss off a lot of people, and in the midst of another election cycle, the potential for Revolutionary War Part II could prove disastrous at a time when all parties involved are under constant scrutiny. Until things blow over, the two must pretend to be best friends. Charity events, Wimbledon, polo matches: the goal is to make this one colossal mishap look like a misunderstanding.
What begins as mutual disdain—or what Alex believes to be mutual disdain—begins to give way to something inscrutable. Their charade (miracle of miracles!) turns into real friendship. Henry is not the “stuck-up product of inbreeding” Alex believed him to be. But when everything in Alex’s life can be analyzed, memorized and filed away for future use, the fact he is unable to parse his feelings towards Henry is troubling.
When the trio hosts their New Year’s Eve gala, the flood gates open. Henry kisses Alex, and, like the most banal eureka moment of all time, Alex realizes the “prickling, unsettling annoyance” he felt all these years was actually longing. The relationship that develops between Alex and Henry invites all manner of calamity, essentially sealing their death warrants if anyone were to find out. What they have grows in pitch and fervor over eight months.
The stumbling, ebullient thrill of the new comes accompanied with the disorienting levels of obsession that so easily expel all rational and cohesive thought for the sake of endless cataloging. The inexplicable shock to the system that transforms lovers into seasoned archivists: every inch of flesh, every breathing pattern, every embarrassing tic, every sour mood—all collected in a whirl of sensory overload. Then, as the pressure surrounding their circumstances builds even greater, it shifts to the incandescence of a love like sleep, as John Green famously described it—something that happens slowly, and then all at once. Despite their best efforts, Alex and Henry cannot quit each other, and what starts as a fling turns into unadulterated devotion.
The tricky part of any novel such as this is moving past the romantic bits. So many of them end with the lovers coming together after a game of cat and mouse, but such is not the case for these two. The latter third of the book exemplifies McQuiston’s true prowess as she reveals Alex and Henry to themselves and to us as readers when they are forced to decide whether or not they can pursue their relationship.
Can the half-Mexican son of the first female president go public with such a relationship without destroying his parents’ political careers as well as ending his own nascent ambitions? More pressingly, can Henry unshackle himself from the pillory of monarchic tradition and allow himself happiness?
McQuiston delves into all this and more while remaining pitch-perfect in her balance of comedy and emotional turmoil throughout the novel. Her command of character development, plot pacing and narrative give the impression of a writer who has several novels under their belt rather than one. The fact that this book has caught on like wildfire is testament enough to her abilities.
Despite my initial reservations upon reading the book’s description, this novel never feels like wishful thinking, though many might suggest the imaginative haven McQuiston creates is just that. It is certainly something to retreat into when everything seems so existentially bad all the time. Yes, it is, at its core, a gooey, queer love story, full of foul-mouthed Texans and icy monarchs and millennial jargon, but this re-imagining of what could have been can just as easily foment a desire for real change in some unsuspecting reader.
It goes without saying that the concepts of “dissent” and “resistance” should extend beyond the use of the words themselves in casual conversation. McQuiston’s goal with this novel was certainly one of comfort. Of course. Surely we needed it. But Alex and Henry were able to obtain freedom for themselves through action and the support of a close-knit community, so the idea at the heart of this book—that those in a state of precarity can eschew the restraints of political and social tradition for what is actually moral—can inspire the movement from vision to reality. Like the final verse of “Texas Reznikoff”, such freedom is their raucous exit music, something demanding to be heard.