These are Ken’s memoirs and, like several other books I have
read recently, was a recommendation from a friend. My heart sank slightly at
the size of it – 710 pages in the paperback edition – and it has taken me months
to finish it. The weight of it was a disincentive to carrying it to read on the
train, and it is a relatively serious read, which meant it was not always
something I felt up to tackling at bedtime. However, the recommendation was
entirely justified.
If you lived in or near London during the period covered –
from the late Sixties right up to 2011 – you will recall at least some, if not
all, of the events covered. And it is an entertaining read – Ken has quite a
wit and although there are endless details of political in-fighting, some of
which I will admit to gliding over, it was always interesting and occasionally
laugh-out-loud funny. I suspect that every reader will take something different
from it, to support their own beliefs and prejudices, but what I think I had
not realised before was for how long political discussion and disagreement has
been overshadowed by personal viciousness and muck-spreading. The book largely
succeeds in redressing the balance for those who only remember “Red Ken and the
scandals at County Hall” rather than what actually happened.
Ken is no saint but his book reveals him as a careful
thinker and a conscientious worker, in striking contrast to his successor as
Mayor. I know which I would rather have on my side.
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