Nicola Sturgeon, Scotland’s former first minister, has never been one to shy away from controversy or candor, but her new memoir, Frankly, lays bare a level of personal and political revelation few expected. Released slightly ahead of schedule due to a flurry of media serializations and interviews, the book offers readers an unvarnished look at Sturgeon’s years at the helm of Scottish politics—and the tumultuous aftermath that followed.
Sturgeon’s time in office, as chronicled in Frankly, was marked by soaring victories and wrenching defeats, with her final months overshadowed by a divisive debate over transgender rights. According to BBC News, Sturgeon describes this period as one of “rancour and division,” admitting she regrets not “hitting the pause button” to seek consensus when the debate over gender self-identification became inflamed. She writes, “With hindsight, I wish I had,” though she maintains her support for the principle of gender self-identification.
Perhaps the most searing episode recounted is the case of Isla Bryson, a double rapist who was initially sent to a female prison after self-identifying as a woman. Sturgeon confesses to struggling with how to respond, recalling, “When confronted with the question ‘Is Isla Bryson a woman?’ I was like a rabbit caught in the headlights. Because I failed to answer ‘yes’, plain and simple... I seemed weak and evasive. Worst of all, I sounded like I didn’t have the courage to stand behind the logical conclusion of the self-identification system we had just legislated for. In football parlance, I lost the dressing room.”
Reflecting on the backlash, Sturgeon singles out Harry Potter author JK Rowling, whose social media post wearing a T-shirt with the slogan “Nicola Sturgeon, destroyer of women’s rights” led to a torrent of abuse. As reported by The Independent, Sturgeon writes, “It was deeply ironic that those who subjected me to this level of hatred and misogynistic abuse often claimed to be doing so in the interests of women’s safety.” She told BBC Newscast that the difference in the “vitriol” she received after Rowling’s post was “quite stark,” though she emphasized she did not expect immunity from criticism. Rowling has since indicated plans to review the memoir and may auction an annotated copy for charity, but her spokesperson declined to comment further.
Sturgeon’s relationship with her predecessor and former mentor, Alex Salmond, is dissected with unsparing honesty. Their bond, once close, was shattered by the fallout from sexual harassment allegations against Salmond. Although he was cleared of all charges in court, Sturgeon lambasts his claim of being the victim of a conspiracy, writing, “He impugned the integrity of the institutions at the heart of Scottish democracy. He was prepared to traumatise, time and again, the women at the centre of it all.” According to BBC News, Salmond’s allies have angrily rejected these claims. Sturgeon also suggests, as noted by The Independent, that some MSPs investigating her government’s handling of the Salmond allegations were “taking direction” from Salmond or his allies, calling the parliamentary probe a “witch-hunt.”
The 2014 Scottish independence referendum, a defining chapter in Sturgeon’s political career, is recounted with both pride and pain. She describes the campaign as an uphill battle, hampered by what she calls unbalanced media coverage and Salmond’s lack of engagement with the independence white paper. “It felt like we were trying to push a boulder up hill,” she writes. The personal toll was immense; Sturgeon recalls being “overcome by a feeling of sheer impossibility,” culminating in a panic attack on the floor of her home office.
But perhaps nothing prepared her for the shock of Operation Branchform, the police investigation into SNP finances that saw her home raided and her then-husband, Peter Murrell, arrested. “With police tents all around it, it looked more like a murder scene than the place of safety it had always been for me. I was devastated, mortified, confused and terrified,” she writes, as cited by The Independent. Her own arrest two months later was, in her words, “the worst day” of her life—a trauma she admits she may never fully recover from. Sturgeon was later exonerated, but Murrell now faces embezzlement charges, and the couple has since separated.
The memoir also delves into the extraordinary pressures of leading Scotland through the COVID-19 pandemic. Sturgeon confesses that the experience “took a heavy toll, physically and mentally,” leaving her haunted by the thought that an earlier lockdown might have saved more lives. She recounts breaking down in tears while giving evidence to the UK Covid inquiry and seeking professional help for the first time in her life. “It took several counselling sessions before I was able to pull myself back from the brink,” she writes.
Sturgeon does not shy away from the misogyny and sexism she encountered throughout her career. On the first page, she notes, “Like all women, since the dawn of time, I have faced misogyny and sexism so endemic that I didn’t always recognize it as such.” A particularly cruel episode during her early years in the Scottish Parliament saw a male MSP spread a false and sexually explicit rumor about her—a memory that left her in tears and, years later, a deeper understanding of the bullying’s intent.
Her personal reflections are just as raw. Sturgeon describes the heartbreak of a miscarriage at age 40, the challenges of menopause while in the public eye, and the strain that ended her marriage. She addresses persistent rumors about her sexuality, dismissing them as rooted in homophobia and stating, “Long-term relationships with men have accounted for more than thirty years of my life, but I have never considered sexuality, my own included, to be binary. Moreover, sexual relationships should be private matters.”
Looking ahead, Sturgeon reveals a desire for reinvention. She jokes about entering a “delayed adolescence,” muses about living outside Scotland—confessing an affection for London—and hints at writing a novel. Yet, her commitment to Scottish independence remains undimmed. She concludes, “I believe Scotland will be independent within 20 years… That, after all, is what my life has been about.”
With Frankly, Nicola Sturgeon has offered Scotland—and the world—not just a political memoir, but a deeply human story of ambition, regret, resilience, and hope.
