Frankly, Nicola Sturgeon’s memoir is bad news for the SNP

Nicola Sturgeon’s career is the stuff of fiction – small wonder, then, that the publication of her memoir has garnered such interest.

Frankly is the story of a shy girl from Dreghorn who overcame the odds to lead a nation; a steely politician of international renown who was tipped by observers for a job, eventually, at the UN. It is also the story of a woman whose time in office came to be characterised by public dispute and internal discord. It was Sturgeon’s administration which had to answer questions about its handling of complaints against Alex Salmond, which lost its indyref2 challenge at the Supreme Court and which presided over the most enduringly divisive legislation of our time, the Gender Recognition Reform Bill. Then, of course, there was Operation Branchform, in which she was arrested but not charged, unlike her now-estranged husband Peter Murrell.

And so as Frankly is published and Sturgeon, paid handsomely for her words, presents her side of the story it is no surprise that it would be met with a level of interest normally reserved for the biggest hitters. Indeed, Mayflies author Andrew O’Hagan, offering an endorsement for the cover, describes the book as “the most insightful and stylishly open memoir by a politician since Barack Obama's Dreams From My Father”.

Publisher Pan Macmillan has cannily released Frankly during summer recess – prime time for culture festivals, and Sturgeon booked appearances at many of these, but a dead zone for political reporting. Little competition, then, for the headlines, and indeed the Glasgow Southside MSP has dominated these, appearing across Scottish and UK media with commentary on matters private and political – her miscarriage, her arrest, Salmond, and gender reforms amongst them.

But it’s also come at a time when the SNP is struggling to cut through as easily it did in the early days of her premiership. John Swinney, then her right-hand-man and now her successor, faces significant electoral challenge as a score of his MSPs prepare to stand down and his independence strategy has been met with argument from sections of the party, and little interest from the outside. Swinney has presented himself as a unifier of the splits which have hampered the SNP since Sturgeon’s latter days and will want to present his party as ‘together’. But it’s hard to do that when these optics are playing out.

Enter Sturgeon’s book to press on bruises anew and provide further ammunition for opponents. Initial excerpts released to The Times focused on matters of human interest, but the early release of copies through retailer Waterstones led to revelations about goings-on behind the scenes in the SNP. Salmond neglected to read the independence white paper, Sturgeon claims, and she had to “bounce” the SNP cabinet into supporting same-sex marriage.

Meanwhile, media interviews have seen Sturgeon go further than in her book on her response to the case of trans-identified rapist Isla Bryson/Adam Graham, and to gender recognition reforms themselves. She now says she should have “paused” the process on the latter to seek consensus and been “much more straightforward” on the former for clarity.

The comments have provoked strong responses. On the one side, supporters of the GRR have condemned what they see as a capitulation. On the other, opponents have questioned how Sturgeon could have forgotten the fact that there was a 'pause' and a second consultation before ministers ploughed on, or why she didn’t back an amendment by SNP colleague Michelle Thomson which would have prevented those accused of sexual offences from gaining gender recognition certificates. And even if the intention was to smooth things over, even a bit, it’s clear that the opposite effect has been achieved, fanning the flames of a political binfire that has burned for so long, affecting everything from policing to education to sport. That, even now, Sturgeon cannot find the words to lower the temperature is an indictment of her ability.

Meanwhile, the comments about late Alba leader Salmond, made months after his death, have riled his supporters. It is hard not to wonder how he would have responded to her claims, but if there was any hope of a coming-together of Alba and the SNP, reuniting elements of the independence movement to progress the parties’ shared goal, those would look to be in vain.

It’s unlikely that Sturgeon expected her memoir to win over many of her detractors. And, after withstanding years of criticism, it is perhaps understandable that she should seek to wrest control of her own narrative. But as she prepares to exit the political arena next year, it is her colleagues and successors who will have to deal with the issues she leaves behind, GRR, indy schism and all. Frankly, this book is more of a hindrance than a help to them.