I’ve become addicted to The Crown, which is the first show I have not only started to watch as a streaming show, rather than in its original incarnation, but also pursued avidly. Usually I dabble in older shows, watching in a desultory fashion, and I’m not sure I’ve ever finished a series. But this one I’m racing through, at least by my standards, having finished two seasons in five weeks.

Although I feel compelled to watch, I can’t elucidate what about it compels me. The main character is Queen Elizabeth II, and she is portrayed as a poised but hapless figure, easily persuaded to alter a declared firm course, standoffish to a fault, and rarely affecting events significantly. Although her personal struggle is compelling, it is certainly fictional; I can’t imagine there was any cooperation by the principals with Netflix.

The characters are real people and a lot of the events are known to me, as is, of course, the “ending,” as it were–Charles will never be king, Margaret will not find happiness in marriage, etc. I am learning history, if reading Wikipedia can rise to that phrase, because I research almost every episode after watching it, and usually the reality is not as dramatic as portrayed, and in some cases actually misleading. I noticed that with the first part of Game of Thrones, one of the reasons I stopped watching, but those deviations were from fiction. As much as I love the portrayals, I’m not completely comfortable with Netflix rewriting recent history about currently living people for a large audience.

I’m concurrently reading Black Swan by Nassim Taleb, a book about the power of narrative to shape our opinions, alter our memories, bolster false confidence, quash our estimating abilities, and in general make us dumber, more gullible, and less competent. He’s got a take-no-prisoners approach to his thesis. I’m not completely convinced, but there is some meat to it, and I find echos in the fetchingly crafted false narratives of The Crown, which are sure to outpoll any real understanding of the events portrayed in the memories of its audience, including me.

Does it matter if the prevailing narrative is real? Is it possible to even formulate a “real” narrative, given the diversity of human experience? These are key questions of our time.