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Alan Johnson on winning the Orwell book prize: 'I thought I was writing something people would appreciate' Alan Johnson on winning the Orwell book prize: 'I thought I was writing something people would appreciate'
(1 day later)
The dominant sound on the tape of my interview with Alan Johnson is his laugh. This loud rattle has always been part of his personality, encouraging the popular view that he is a rare human among the aliens on Planet Westminster – but was perhaps surprising as we were talking on Thursday morning, with the political establishment braced for a Ukip surge in local and European polls that injects further uncertainty into the outcome of next year's general election.The dominant sound on the tape of my interview with Alan Johnson is his laugh. This loud rattle has always been part of his personality, encouraging the popular view that he is a rare human among the aliens on Planet Westminster – but was perhaps surprising as we were talking on Thursday morning, with the political establishment braced for a Ukip surge in local and European polls that injects further uncertainty into the outcome of next year's general election.
Johnson, though, can be excused his high good humour. At 64 and in the declining phase of his legislative career, the Labour member for Hull West and Hessle had just won two literary prizes in three days – the £3,000 Orwell prize following the £10,000 Ondaatje prize – for his first book. This Boy describes a 1950s childhood in west London as the son of a single mother who died young, leaving him in the care of his sister. Linda, dedicatee and hero of This Boy, effectively became a substitute mum, turning up at parents' evenings, although only a schoolgirl herself and, as he recalls, "berating my teachers about Alan's maths needing to be better".Johnson, though, can be excused his high good humour. At 64 and in the declining phase of his legislative career, the Labour member for Hull West and Hessle had just won two literary prizes in three days – the £3,000 Orwell prize following the £10,000 Ondaatje prize – for his first book. This Boy describes a 1950s childhood in west London as the son of a single mother who died young, leaving him in the care of his sister. Linda, dedicatee and hero of This Boy, effectively became a substitute mum, turning up at parents' evenings, although only a schoolgirl herself and, as he recalls, "berating my teachers about Alan's maths needing to be better".
A mantlepiece now crowded with literary prizes, I suggested, might make Johnson the Hilary Mantel of Westminster? That cackle of his, and then, "Well, that's one way of putting it," although he confirms his new, bookish kudos by adding: "Actually, Hilary wrote me a very nice letter about the book." A mantelpiece now crowded with literary prizes, I suggested, might make Johnson the Hilary Mantel of Westminster? That cackle of his, and then, "Well, that's one way of putting it," although he confirms his new, bookish kudos by adding: "Actually, Hilary wrote me a very nice letter about the book."
This rush of success continues an extraordinary transformation since, in January 2011, Johnson resigned as shadow chancellor, distracted from politics by the messy end of his second marriage. He seemed doomed at that time to the common political endgame of front-page embarrassment followed by backbench oblivion.This rush of success continues an extraordinary transformation since, in January 2011, Johnson resigned as shadow chancellor, distracted from politics by the messy end of his second marriage. He seemed doomed at that time to the common political endgame of front-page embarrassment followed by backbench oblivion.
So is it a shock to have achieved in a year the sort of recognition many authors never get? "Um, it's a delightful shock. I was arrogant enough to think, from early on, that I was writing something people were going to appreciate. And everyone I showed it to – agents, publishers and so on – seemed to agree. But it's a leap from that to prizes and the kind of critical acclamation it got. There was actually only one bad review, which was in Newsline, the paper of the Workers' Revolutionary party. The headline was: From London Slum to Imperial Minister. Dear old WRP!"So is it a shock to have achieved in a year the sort of recognition many authors never get? "Um, it's a delightful shock. I was arrogant enough to think, from early on, that I was writing something people were going to appreciate. And everyone I showed it to – agents, publishers and so on – seemed to agree. But it's a leap from that to prizes and the kind of critical acclamation it got. There was actually only one bad review, which was in Newsline, the paper of the Workers' Revolutionary party. The headline was: From London Slum to Imperial Minister. Dear old WRP!"
His magnificent post-imperial corner office in Parliament Street, its windows like televisions tuned to close-ups of the House of Commons, is personalised with memorabilia relating to Queens Park Rangers, photos of two dead family cats, souvenir ministerial boxes from his periods as a secretary of state (Education and Health for Blair, Home Office for Brown), and, more incongruously, a plastic figurine of Margaret Thatcher with a nut-cracker between her legs. "That was a present from a spad [special political adviser]. I thought it was a bit vulgar, actually."His magnificent post-imperial corner office in Parliament Street, its windows like televisions tuned to close-ups of the House of Commons, is personalised with memorabilia relating to Queens Park Rangers, photos of two dead family cats, souvenir ministerial boxes from his periods as a secretary of state (Education and Health for Blair, Home Office for Brown), and, more incongruously, a plastic figurine of Margaret Thatcher with a nut-cracker between her legs. "That was a present from a spad [special political adviser]. I thought it was a bit vulgar, actually."
His own nuts are currently being cracked by his publisher, which has scheduled for September a second volume that is still 20,000 words short of completion. Please, Mr Postman picks up the story at the age of 18, when Johnson got a job delivering letters, and ends in his late 30s, when a career as a union official began his move into politics. He expects to write at least one more memoir which, like the first two, will be named after a song by his beloved Beatles: "I suppose Paperback Writer will be hard to resist, eventually."His own nuts are currently being cracked by his publisher, which has scheduled for September a second volume that is still 20,000 words short of completion. Please, Mr Postman picks up the story at the age of 18, when Johnson got a job delivering letters, and ends in his late 30s, when a career as a union official began his move into politics. He expects to write at least one more memoir which, like the first two, will be named after a song by his beloved Beatles: "I suppose Paperback Writer will be hard to resist, eventually."
One of the most striking lines in the first book comes after his mother's death, when he observes: "My inability to cry nagged at me." Had the tears finally come while writing the book? "Yeah, there were a few times. Not sobbing crying, but there was a moisture around."One of the most striking lines in the first book comes after his mother's death, when he observes: "My inability to cry nagged at me." Had the tears finally come while writing the book? "Yeah, there were a few times. Not sobbing crying, but there was a moisture around."
He insists, though, that, unlike some who experience life crises, he suffered no kind of breakdown. "No, I didn't suffer depression. It was a difficult time, obviously, the domestic issues. But, on the other hand, the lifting of that burden of work: I'd been a minister for 11 years, and then a shadow minister, and I hated that, after being in power. So I suddenly had time and went away and read [Thackery's] Vanity Fair, but the hero is called George Osborne, so I thought I'd picked the wrong book there."He insists, though, that, unlike some who experience life crises, he suffered no kind of breakdown. "No, I didn't suffer depression. It was a difficult time, obviously, the domestic issues. But, on the other hand, the lifting of that burden of work: I'd been a minister for 11 years, and then a shadow minister, and I hated that, after being in power. So I suddenly had time and went away and read [Thackery's] Vanity Fair, but the hero is called George Osborne, so I thought I'd picked the wrong book there."
One of the side-effects of This Boy's success has been invitations to review books, including a recent Guardian assignment on John Campbell's biography of Roy Jenkins, another Labour home secretary with a side-line in prize-winning writing. Discussing the way in which a Welsh miner's son became a grandee of both the British and Brussels political establishments, Johnson called Jenkins "an apple who fell a fair distance from the tree". Was that a self-knowing reference from a London orphan and former postman who ended up as a triple secretary of state and best-selling author?One of the side-effects of This Boy's success has been invitations to review books, including a recent Guardian assignment on John Campbell's biography of Roy Jenkins, another Labour home secretary with a side-line in prize-winning writing. Discussing the way in which a Welsh miner's son became a grandee of both the British and Brussels political establishments, Johnson called Jenkins "an apple who fell a fair distance from the tree". Was that a self-knowing reference from a London orphan and former postman who ended up as a triple secretary of state and best-selling author?
"Um, what I meant about Roy was the way he took on all these mannerisms and gestures. He lived in Ladbroke Square. My mum used to clean houses in Ladbroke Square … ""Um, what I meant about Roy was the way he took on all these mannerisms and gestures. He lived in Ladbroke Square. My mum used to clean houses in Ladbroke Square … "
That he became – in class terms – someone else? Whereas you never have?That he became – in class terms – someone else? Whereas you never have?
"Well, I don't think I have. You don't have a working-class income anymore, but you are what you are born into, I think. Whereas Roy went out deliberately to change it.""Well, I don't think I have. You don't have a working-class income anymore, but you are what you are born into, I think. Whereas Roy went out deliberately to change it."
But can someone like you stay working class?But can someone like you stay working class?
"You certainly can. Whether you have is a different question. John Prescott famously said we're all middle class now.""You certainly can. Whether you have is a different question. John Prescott famously said we're all middle class now."
Are you middle class?Are you middle class?
"I don't feel middle class, in that sense. I suppose I now call lunch 'lunch' and not dinner. Someone asked me at the Orwell prize presentation if I felt out of place among those sort of people. And I don't have a chip on my shoulder or anything like that, but I admire the way they operate and the wide networks they have of people they know from school and university. And so sometimes you feel you've dropped in from a different planet. I felt it as a minister: those conversations about whether someone got a first or a 2:1 from Cambridge.""I don't feel middle class, in that sense. I suppose I now call lunch 'lunch' and not dinner. Someone asked me at the Orwell prize presentation if I felt out of place among those sort of people. And I don't have a chip on my shoulder or anything like that, but I admire the way they operate and the wide networks they have of people they know from school and university. And so sometimes you feel you've dropped in from a different planet. I felt it as a minister: those conversations about whether someone got a first or a 2:1 from Cambridge."
So hasn't Johnson, then, fallen a fair distance from the tree in the sense that his political and literary careers are an unlikely outcome from the start he describes in This Boy? "Yeah. Except that what I'm trying to get across – and even more so in the second book – is that, among the people I grew up and worked with, there was extraordinary unused talent. It was Gray's Elegy: 'Full many a flower is born to blush unseen/ And waste its sweetness on the desert air.' I used to get frustrated. I was a cabinet minister in five different departments, and no newspaper ever asked me for my recommended summer holiday reading; no one ever asked me to review a book until I published a book. I did feel that I was categorised: 'Didn't go to university? Go and stand over there.'"So hasn't Johnson, then, fallen a fair distance from the tree in the sense that his political and literary careers are an unlikely outcome from the start he describes in This Boy? "Yeah. Except that what I'm trying to get across – and even more so in the second book – is that, among the people I grew up and worked with, there was extraordinary unused talent. It was Gray's Elegy: 'Full many a flower is born to blush unseen/ And waste its sweetness on the desert air.' I used to get frustrated. I was a cabinet minister in five different departments, and no newspaper ever asked me for my recommended summer holiday reading; no one ever asked me to review a book until I published a book. I did feel that I was categorised: 'Didn't go to university? Go and stand over there.'"
However many memoirs he writes, he insists that there will never be a book – Beatles-inspired title Get Back – about a Westminster resurrection, definitively ruling out ever running for the party leadership, the London mayoralty, or taking a ministerial job. There may, though, be external and internal pressure to return to the political frontline because Johnson is widely held to possess a warmth and normality that Gordon Brown and Ed Miliband lack. Is that a fair criticism of them? "It's unfair to see a lack of warmth in Ed Miliband because, as leader of the opposition, you get very little chance to show that."However many memoirs he writes, he insists that there will never be a book – Beatles-inspired title Get Back – about a Westminster resurrection, definitively ruling out ever running for the party leadership, the London mayoralty, or taking a ministerial job. There may, though, be external and internal pressure to return to the political frontline because Johnson is widely held to possess a warmth and normality that Gordon Brown and Ed Miliband lack. Is that a fair criticism of them? "It's unfair to see a lack of warmth in Ed Miliband because, as leader of the opposition, you get very little chance to show that."
But, as you know, people say that you "connect" with the electorate in a way that other politicians don't.But, as you know, people say that you "connect" with the electorate in a way that other politicians don't.
"People do say it about me. But I just do what I do. When I was in government, though, I was very disciplined. I wasn't this free agent, saying what I think, because no one can be. Nigel Farage can, because he hasn't got any policies, or a proper party.""People do say it about me. But I just do what I do. When I was in government, though, I was very disciplined. I wasn't this free agent, saying what I think, because no one can be. Nigel Farage can, because he hasn't got any policies, or a proper party."
Johnson refuses to accept the common view that, with Miliband performing worse than hoped and Ukip better, Labour is in crisis. "I don't think so at all. I think that coming back from defeat in 2010 and turning it round after one term in opposition would be an extraordinary achievement."Johnson refuses to accept the common view that, with Miliband performing worse than hoped and Ukip better, Labour is in crisis. "I don't think so at all. I think that coming back from defeat in 2010 and turning it round after one term in opposition would be an extraordinary achievement."
As that answer assumes that Labour will win power next May, it becomes clear that the admirable equanimity of his account of a forbidding childhood may be part of a broader tendency towards optimism. Probably uniquely in his party, Johnson speaks loyally and kindly about both Milibands, Brown and Blair.As that answer assumes that Labour will win power next May, it becomes clear that the admirable equanimity of his account of a forbidding childhood may be part of a broader tendency towards optimism. Probably uniquely in his party, Johnson speaks loyally and kindly about both Milibands, Brown and Blair.
"I was knocking on doors yesterday in Hull and a woman came out who was a huge believer in Tony. He's got a lot more support out there than people realise.""I was knocking on doors yesterday in Hull and a woman came out who was a huge believer in Tony. He's got a lot more support out there than people realise."
Do you still see him at his various houses?Do you still see him at his various houses?
"Haven't seen him for a while. He sent me a nice email about the book. He said: 'I think you missed your vocation.' He appointed me to three cabinet jobs, so I wasn't sure how to take that!""Haven't seen him for a while. He sent me a nice email about the book. He said: 'I think you missed your vocation.' He appointed me to three cabinet jobs, so I wasn't sure how to take that!"
He roars again, that big warm laugh that we can now apparently rule out being heard on a Labour leadership or London mayoral hustings. If Alan Johnson were ever to write a memoir of the current phase of his life – obvious title, When I'm Sixty Four – it would be an improbably jaunty volume from a man who, only three years ago, seemed to be in public and private ruin.He roars again, that big warm laugh that we can now apparently rule out being heard on a Labour leadership or London mayoral hustings. If Alan Johnson were ever to write a memoir of the current phase of his life – obvious title, When I'm Sixty Four – it would be an improbably jaunty volume from a man who, only three years ago, seemed to be in public and private ruin.
• This Boy is out now in paperback, published by Corgi. Buy it for £6.39 at guardianbookshop.co.uk. Please, Mr Postman is published in September• This Boy is out now in paperback, published by Corgi. Buy it for £6.39 at guardianbookshop.co.uk. Please, Mr Postman is published in September