The Young Pretender: The Dramatic Return of Master Betty by Michael Arditti
Arcadia Books, £12.99

As a child, William Henry West Betty was a theatrical sensation. For five years after his debut in 1803, at the age of 11, he performed in adult roles, including Shakespeare’s Hamlet, to packed houses all over the British Isles. His attempts to return to acting in later life proved unsuccessful, and he retired from performance in 1824.

Young Betty’s extraordinary success might seem outlandish from a 21st-century perspective. Georgian theatregoers, however, were much less concerned than modern audiences with realistic performance. Instead, during that period, actors were expected to deliver “points”: set-piece speeches, comparable to show-stopping numbers in a modern musical.

Betty had his points down to a tee, and moreover conformed to a literary-romantic ideal of innocence and purity.

Along with ruthless and cunning management, spearheaded by his father, it was enough to make him a massive celebrity, cherished by the whole of British society.

Michael Arditti has often written about Jewish subjects. Here, his novel, of which Betty is the narrator and protagonist, takes us into the heart of a semi-alien theatrical tradition, while engaging with such up-to-date themes as celebrity culture and the treatment of child stars. It brings to mind Personality, Andrew O’Hagan’s celebrated 2003 fiction, loosely based on the life of Lena Zavaroni.

The Young Pretender (a title that harks back to another romantic figurehead, Bonnie Prince Charlie) picks up Betty’s story in 1812, at the start of an ill-starred comeback attempt. It soon becomes apparent that he is not only deluded about his career prospects, but also in a state of denial, bordering on amnesia, about his early life.

Arditti takes us through the actor’s two difficult journeys of recognition. He must come to terms with a public that adored him as a child but refuses to take him seriously as an adult; and he faces a dreadful reckoning with buried traumas ensuing from the various forms of exploitation he suffered during his youth.

It is weighty material, which Arditti handles to satisfying effect. He executes a sustained pastiche of early 19th-century English with impressive facility, not an anachronism in sight. Georgian Britain, especially theatreland, comes vividly to life.

At the centre of it all stands Betty himself: a rounded and complex character, whose ability to understand himself and his world is constantly called into question.

The results are often comical. Master Betty is no Bridgerton-style regency romp, but it can be very funny.

Yet sometimes the memories and experiences are so painful that they take the novel in the direction of tragedy.

Betty might not have easily recognised himself in this account of his life, but he would surely have appreciated the dramatic qualities of Arditti’s storytelling.