When Kamala Harris released her new book, 107 Days, on September 23, 2025, she didn’t just offer a behind-the-scenes look at her rapid-fire 2024 presidential campaign—she cracked open the door to her most private thoughts, raw emotions, and even the everyday squabbles that marked her journey. The book, which has been flying off shelves since its debut according to The Associated Press, chronicles the tense and ultimately unsuccessful race against Donald Trump, as well as the personal and political fallout that followed.
Harris’s account begins with the moment she learned she had lost the election. "I could barely breathe," she writes, capturing the gut punch of defeat. One of her aides quietly peeled the “Madame President” label off celebratory cupcakes before serving them to her crushed staffers. Harris kept asking, "My God, my God, what will happen to our country?" The next morning, she found herself stuck in the denial and bargaining stages of grief, admitting, "I was ashamed to realize I was in the denial and bargaining stages of grief, a very long way from acceptance." (AP)
Unlike many political memoirs that tiptoe around vulnerability, 107 Days is remarkably candid. Harris—often described as guarded—lets her guard down, revealing not just her political calculations but also her doubts, frustrations, and even her mistakes. The book’s structure is brisk, each chapter ticking down the days to Election Day, creating a sense of urgency and inevitability.
One of the most striking aspects of Harris’s account is her depiction of President Joe Biden’s decline. She insists she never doubted Biden’s ability to serve, writing, "If I believed that, I would have said so." But, she adds, "At eighty-one, Joe got tired. That’s when his age showed in physical and verbal stumbles." Harris criticizes Biden’s inner circle for pushing him to continue, even as his campaign faltered. "It seemed that the worse things got, the more they pushed him," she notes. She describes watching Biden take the debate stage in Atlanta and immediately realizing, "he wasn’t right." Yet, she says, Biden’s team remained in denial, handing her talking points insisting, "JOE BIDEN WON."
The partnership between Harris and Biden, while often warm, was not without its frosty moments. As pressure mounted for Biden to step aside, Harris was invited to a Fourth of July celebration at the White House. There, First Lady Jill Biden pulled Harris’s husband, Doug Emhoff, aside and asked, "What’s going on? Are you supporting us?" Emhoff later erupted in private, asking, "They have to ask if we’re loyal?" The tension continued after Harris replaced Biden on the ticket. Just before her own debate with Trump, Biden called her to relay rumors that she’d been badmouthing him—a conversation she found ill-timed and self-centered. "I just couldn’t understand why he would call me, right now, and make it all about himself," she writes.
Harris doesn’t shy away from her own missteps, either. She recalls a particularly damaging appearance on The View, where, when asked what she would have done differently than Biden, she blanked and said, "There is not a thing that comes to mind." She admits, "I had no idea I’d just pulled the pin on a hand grenade." Her staff, she says, were beside themselves, and senior adviser David Plouffe bluntly told her, "people hate Joe Biden." Harris reflects on how her close association with Biden became a drag on her candidacy, even as she struggled to distance herself without seeming disloyal.
The book also offers a window into the high-stakes decisions around Harris’s choice of running mate. Pete Buttigieg, Biden’s transportation secretary, was her first pick, but Harris ultimately decided it was "too big of a risk" to ask voters to accept both a Black woman as president and a gay man as vice president. Pennsylvania Governor Josh Shapiro was considered, but Harris worried he might not be content as number two. Eventually, she chose Minnesota Governor Tim Walz, only to be dismayed by his debate performance. There’s a single, telling reference to California Governor Gavin Newsom: when Harris called him after Biden’s withdrawal, he texted, "Hiking. Will call back," but never did.
Behind the scenes, Harris’s brother-in-law Tony West prepared a "Red File"—a contingency plan in case Biden had to withdraw. Harris admits she "didn’t want to dwell on such an eventuality" and left the planning to West, who updated the file as pressure mounted on Biden. When the moment finally came, Harris insisted Biden endorse her immediately, not a day later as he’d planned. "If you want to put me in the strongest position, you have to endorse me now," she recalled telling him. Biden relented, and the endorsement followed swiftly.
Campaigns are often surreal, and Harris’s was no exception. She describes warming up for her convention speech with a voice coach who asked her and her team to make "hums, grunts and trills"—an exercise she joined with some hesitation. After a second assassination attempt against Trump, Harris recounts an unexpectedly cordial phone call from him: "How do I say bad things about you now? I’m going to tone it down. I will. You’re going to see." When the call ended, Harris thought, "He’s a con man. He’s really good at it."
But 107 Days isn’t just about politics—it’s also about partnership. The book pulls back the curtain on Harris’s relationship with Emhoff, especially during the campaign’s most stressful moments. Harris recounts a petty but telling birthday squabble just weeks before Election Day. Emhoff, exhausted from campaigning, repurposed an anniversary present for her birthday and failed to hear her calling for a towel because he was engrossed in the Dodgers eliminating the Mets in the playoffs. The hotel, Harris complains, was "a bland establishment whose red-and-black decor looked like it hadn’t been redone since the ’70s" and had broken curtains. The fight, fueled by stress, ended when Emhoff reminded her, "We can’t turn on each other." Harris writes, "With the hits coming from every direction, we have to stay united. Back-to-back, swords raised against all outside attacks."
Afterward, Emhoff began leaving notes expressing his love—an idea encouraged by Harris’s social secretary, who gave him notecards for the nights they’d be apart until the campaign’s end. Despite swirling rumors of divorce after the loss, Harris describes how these gestures helped them weather the storm. She also reflects on the unique challenges male spouses face in politics, noting, "In D.C., there are long-standing social structures and well-understood roles for wives. Not for the very few husbands."
The book tour for 107 Days was in full swing by late September 2025, with Harris speaking at venues like The Town Hall in New York. She remains tight-lipped about her future plans, but her book leaves little doubt about the emotional toll—and the moments of grace—that defined her historic campaign. Through it all, Harris’s story is one of resilience, candor, and the complicated dance between ambition and vulnerability that defines American politics at its highest levels.
