When former French President Nicolas Sarkozy set pen to paper to recount his brief but headline-grabbing stint behind bars, few expected the resulting memoir, The Journal of a Prisoner, to spark such a swirl of public fascination, skepticism, and even amusement. Published in late 2025, the 213-page book offers an almost minute-by-minute chronicle of Sarkozy’s 20-day incarceration at La Santé Prison in Paris, beginning on October 21, 2025. For a man who once commanded the Élysée Palace, the transition from leader to inmate was jarring—and, as the book reveals, a wellspring for both introspection and indignation.
According to The Journal of a Prisoner, Sarkozy’s first day in jail is described in painstaking detail—so much so that it takes him 42 pages to reach 4 pm. The memoir opens with an account of his “last breakfast of freedom” with family, setting a tone of melodrama that persists throughout. In one passage, he describes La Santé Prison as resembling a “cheap hotel,” a comparison that, perhaps unintentionally, draws a wry chuckle. As The Guardian notes, the book is filled with such moments—some earnest, others unintentionally comic.
Sarkozy’s prison term stemmed from a conviction of criminal conspiracy over an illicit scheme to secure campaign funds for his 2007 presidential bid, with the money allegedly coming from associates of the late Libyan dictator Muammar Gaddafi. The former president, however, devotes much of his memoir to protesting his innocence and framing his trial as a politically motivated attack. “My crime seems to be that I’m not left-wing?” he muses at one point, as cited by The Guardian. Nowhere in the book does he mention his other criminal convictions, choosing instead to focus on anecdotes and the support he received from political allies.
The book’s pages are peppered with references to right-wing figures who rallied behind him—13 are mentioned by name, with Sarkozy detailing the nature and extent of their support. Christine Lagarde, president of the European Central Bank and Sarkozy’s former finance minister, is singled out for sending a supportive letter. Yet, the former president also makes a point of noting those who did not reach out, keeping a mental tally of friends and fair-weather acquaintances alike.
Sarkozy’s self-portrayal oscillates between humility and grandiosity. He writes, “I never hold grudges against anyone. My friends have often told me off for forgiving too quickly.” Yet, only pages later, he laments, “By trampling on my innocence, they have brought France down.” The “they” in question remains ambiguous, a stand-in for the complex web of prosecutors, judges, and political adversaries involved in his legal troubles.
There’s a heavy dose of symbolism in Sarkozy’s reading material during his incarceration. Among the books he brought with him were a biography of Jesus Christ and The Count of Monte Cristo—the latter a tale of unjust imprisonment and eventual revenge. Despite these literary allusions, Sarkozy insists he is not seeking retribution. “I’m not a man trying to settle any scores—quite the contrary,” he writes, though the text sometimes suggests otherwise.
One of the more revealing anecdotes in the memoir involves a phone call with Marine Le Pen, leader of the far-right National Rally. Sarkozy recounts telling her he opposed the idea of a “republican front”—a political strategy where mainstream right-wing parties unite to block the far right from gaining power. This exchange, while brief, hints at the shifting alliances and ideological tensions within French politics.
Public reaction to Sarkozy’s imprisonment was mixed. According to polling referenced by The Guardian, six out of ten French voters believed his sentence was “fair.” Still, the memoir is replete with stories of supporters—some in tears as he entered prison, others celebrating his release. At one point, Sarkozy describes an entire restaurant, staff included, rising to applaud him. The former president also notes the almost comical number of people who sent him a copy of the latest Prix Goncourt-winning novel during his incarceration, as if to ensure that, while he might be behind bars, he would not be left out of the national literary conversation.
Yet, the book does not shy away from moments of personal vulnerability. On his first night in prison, Sarkozy describes kneeling beside his bed, praying “to have the strength to carry the cross of this injustice.” He also recounts visiting children in a hospital cancer ward before reporting to La Santé—a gesture he admits was as much for his own perspective as for the children’s comfort: “I must admit that I did it for myself too, because seeing so much suffering and such dignity made me put what was going to happen to me into perspective.”
In a recent interview on the YouTube channel Legend, Sarkozy shed further light on his prison experience and the unexpected connections it fostered. He revealed that, during his time at La Santé, he received a letter from Patrick Gateau—a repeat offender who, by then, had served 19 years in prison. Gateau, who was sentenced in 2008 to 22 years for his role as an accomplice in the 2005 murder of Nelly Crémel, wrote to Sarkozy expressing disbelief at the former president’s presence in prison: “What are you doing in prison? This is not where you belong, etc.” Sarkozy confessed to feeling torn about how to respond, explaining, “I have not yet responded because I am torn between the act of humanity of this man who has been in prison for 19 years (and what had happened), because I have not forgotten Nelly Crémel’s husband and daughter, I have often thought of them.”
Sarkozy’s connection to the Crémel case runs deep. As Minister of the Interior at the time of the murder, he attended the funeral mass and met both the victim’s husband—a former soldier—and her daughter. The memory of that encounter, and the enduring pain of the victim’s family, weighed heavily on his mind as he considered how to address Gateau’s letter.
If the memoir sometimes feels overwrought or self-important, it also offers flashes of genuine insight into the emotional toll of public disgrace and the complexities of justice, forgiveness, and personal legacy. For all its flaws—and there are many, as critics have not hesitated to point out—The Journal of a Prisoner provides a rare window into the psyche of a leader brought low, and the ways in which power, guilt, and memory can intertwine.
As the dust settles on Sarkozy’s brief incarceration and the public dissects his account, one thing is clear: the former president remains a figure capable of stirring strong emotions, both in support and opposition. His memoir, for all its length and drama, ultimately raises more questions than it answers about the nature of justice, the burden of leadership, and the enduring power of personal narrative.
