I reread this in German, but I don't trust my written German, as it's been decades since I've had any practice.
I first read the English translation as a fourteen-year-old when my mother recommended it. The book opens with Desirée Clary at fourteen thinking herself very grown up and ready to take agency for her own life, including falling in love, something that made perfect sense to me at the same age.
I reread it a couple times through college and grad school as a comfort read, and it sat on my shelf for years after. Having finished it, I then got out my copies of Laura Junot's memoirs, published in the mid-1800s, to reread for mentions of Desirée and Bernadotte; though Junot is not to be trusted completely, there are many details in her memoir that ring true with countless biographies I've read over the decades..
This book is not great literature in the sense of MIDDLEMARCH, etc, but it's surprisingly true to the personalities, at least as far as I can tell. If you've never heard of it, it purports to be the diary of Eugenie Desiree Clary, a silk merchant's daughter, who was as a teenager engaged to Napoleon Bonaparte. Napoleon's older brother Joseph did marry Desiree's older sister Julie, but Napoleon, as we know, married Josephine, who at that time reigned over the social scene of Revolutionary Paris post-Robespierre.
Desiree ended up marrying Jean-Baptiste Bernadotte, one of Napoleon's generals, then Marshalls, who ended up being voted in as Crown Prince of Sweden by the Swedish Parliament when the last of the Vasas were pretty much all mad. Or declared mad. The Bernadotte dynasty remains the royal family of Sweden to this day.
What's more, in one of those weird twists, Annemarie Selenko, an Austrian who left Austria for Sweden when the Nazis came to power, was inspired to write the book after working for one of the Bernadottes in the diplomatic service--I believe the same one who was to work for freeing Jews from incarceration in Germany; he almost led a rescue mission into Hungary that instead was led by Wallenberg, who was inspired by Leslie Howard's remarkable film PIMPERNEL SMITH. Bernadotte, with his wider connections, made his contribution another way.
Anyway, though some events are shined up a bit for the reading audience, and some bits altogether fictionalized (like Napoleon's surrender after Waterloo) there is enough of a sense of the real people, who were a remarkable collection, to convey at least a patina of history. I was especially impressed with her depiction of Talleyrand. I can only imagine Selinko read French, and went through all those memoirs which were easily available in used bookstores and libraries in the first half of the twentieth century.
As I mentioned, I got out the Junot memoire, which is highly fictionalized, and yet there are details that absolutely resonate as true. Details like the Bonaparte girls, and the marshals' wives, having to learn imperial court etiquette, which was totally unknown to these young women who were raised during the Revolutionary years. Questions like, "How do we get through the door with these feathers on our heads and the wide skirts?" vexed them tremendously.
Looking at these two works, one fiction based on real history, and one non-fiction with a lot of embroidery to it, brought home yet again that the best social histories are really a lot of gossip, heh.