Book Review: A Question of Honour by Lord Levy

Reading Lord Levy’s book, I felt a slight sense of shame. Having written some fairly terrible things about him on my blog over the last two years, I expected my opinion of him to be confirmed a thousand times over by his memoirs.

Yet I have to admit, I finished the book wondering if I made a terrible error of judgement. Political autobiography is often said to be a work of fiction about oneself, and maybe this book is no different, and yet I felt a certain honesty pouring out of the pages. Have I been hoodwinked or was I wrong? If I have been hoodwinked, then it’s Levy’s ghostwriter, the brilliant Ned Temko, who has pulled off a coup.

Michael Levy is a self made businessman, from a very poor background. An East London boy who made it good. He makes no bones about enjoying the nicer things in life and admits he’s one of the vainest individuals on the planet. And it is this vanity, I suspect, which has got him into so much trouble in the political world. He liked being feted by high profile celebrities and politicians. It may be a weakness, but I can think of worse.

He became the very symbol of a changed Labour Party. He was shameless in exploiting rich donors and clearly got a kick out of it. He is the most successful political fundraiser since Alistair McAlpine in the 1980s for Margaret Thatcher. The Labour Party may feel bitter towards him for many reasons, but they have more reasons to thank him. Boy, how they could do with him now.

Much of the book revolves around Levy’s jewishness. I learnt more about what it’s like being a jew in Britain, and indeed about the Middle East than I have learnt from any other book. And for that reason alone I have no hesitation in recommending it. There, that’s a surprise, isn’t it? Buy it HERE.

Book Review: Ming Campbell's Memoirs

With all the things I have said about Ming Campbell's leadership of the LibDems in the past you might well expect me to pan his memoirs. Not a bit of it. I much enjoyed the book, which was, as one might expect, and elegant and well written read. One of my tests for a political memoir is whether I learned anything about the author I didn't know before. I have to be slightly equivocal in my answer in that I learned very little about his leadership of the LibDems I hadn't known previously. However, the chapters on his athletics career, his early years growing up in Glasgow and his legal career all told me a lot I never knew - and made me think it was a mistake by his advisers not to play this up and tell us more about Ming the Man.

The undoubted heroine of the book is Lady Elspeth. If I was organising a dinner party for twelve people I'd certainly want her as one of the guests. She combines a delightful penchant for indiscretion with a lioness-like protective instinct towards her husband.

Perhaps the most memorable chapter in the book is the one on Ming's recover from cancer. It's intensely moving and at times make for very difficult reading. I found myself with tears running down my face (not an unusual occurrence, as regular readers will know!) when he described the intense pain following chemo sessions. Although there was very much of the 'not wanting to make a fuss' approach and the adoption of a stiff upper lip, it is clear that the six months following the diagnosis were incredibly difficult both physically and emotionally.

This is very much a personal book, rather than a conventional political memoir. It outlines the authors feelings, perceptions and views of others. There is barely a mention of policy or political strategy. Everything is written through the prism of personality. It is the antithesis of Nigel Lawson's memoirs. I'm not saying this is necessarily a bad thing, but at times I did feel the need for a little more political analysis about why he or the LibDems found themselves in a particular quandary.

Ming is undoubtedly a man of personal courage, as evidenced by his approach to his illness. Politically, however, he castigates himself for not speaking up at one or two important political points - especially related to Charles Kennedy. As well he might, some would say. He was, after all, deputy leader. However, he and his colleagues were in uncharted waters. There was no guide book which mapped out a strategy for dealing with an alcoholic leader, a leader who they all liked and respected.

Perhaps the chapter on Ming's ill-fated leadership is the weakest in the book. It is full of the delusion that everything was really going quite well, and what was all the fuss about? There's no doubt that Ming's main achievement was to professionalise various aspects of the LibDems'party operations, but he never came to terms (still hasn't) that his public perception was nowhere near his perception of himself. He blames the issue of age for his downfall, and to an extent he is right. Could it have been different? I think so, but by the time he and his colleagues decided to confront the issue head on it was too late. The public, led by a visceral media, had already made up its mind. I look back at some of my own blog postings on this issue and have to admit to feeling a sense of shame. Age can be an asset. It can be a hindrance but I think we all went OTT in our comments on Ming's age. It's something I now regret.

I have no hesitation in recommending this book to anyone. I very much enjoyed it and hope you will too. Buy it HERE.

Book Review: My Blunkett Nightmare is Over At Last

Well, put up the bunting, my three month nightmare is over. I have finally, finally completed reading the 870 pages of David Blunkett's diaries. Many of you have wondered why I bothered to start reading it in the first place. I suppose the real reason is because I wanted to see if it confirmed my pre-existing views of him. It did, and then some.

Let's start off by saying something nice. It is a phenomenal achievement for David Blunkett to have held down three cabinet rank jobs without being able to see. It says something about his work ethic, indefatigability and courage that he was at the forefront of British politics for nine years. But that's about as much as positive as I can be about this sorry excuse for a book.

Hubris, sanctimony and bumptiousness leave a stench on virtually every page. Rarely have I read a political diary which has the stain of self justification leaping out from virtually every paragraph. Nothing is ever his fault. Everyone else is incompetent. The Home Office was a basket case. His officials were useless. Only he had a plan. Only he was capable of sorting out the mess. Except, it turned out that he wasn't.

The reason he was incapable of driving his agenda through emanates from his personal flaws. These are all too evident throughout the book. For someone who can't see, he is a very poor listener. His beleaguered special advisers did their best to help him help himself, but in the end it was a thankless task. Only he knew what the solutions were and bugger the opinions of everyone else.

John Prescott is a key figure in the book. Blunkett cannot understand why Prescott hates him so much. By the end of the book even I had some sympathy with Prezza.

If you're going to write a diary, it has to be warts and all. You can't just leave a major part of your life out of the narrative, just because you are either later ashamed or embarrassed. Nowhere in the book does the name of Kimberly Quinn rear its head. Blunkett trots out the usual canard of a private life being private, but when the woman he loved effectively caused him to have a nervous breakdown which led to his resignation, you have to wonder at the brass neck of leaving those details out. The book costs £25 and every reader knows about Quinn and having shelled out the money I expected him to tell the truth. Perhaps I should have known better.

Kimberly Quinn was undoubtedly the love of his life. He was deeply hurt by her and admits that at the time of all the publicity over their child he wasn't seeing straight. But, as I recall, he doesn't even mention the child. It's all a deeply dishonest way of writing a diary. In some ways it's not Blunkett I blame. It's his publisher. They paid £200,000 for the book and he got another six figure sum for the serialisation. What fools.