The life of Maximilien Robespierre, Hilary Mantel writes, “is conventionally divided into 31 years that don’t matter and five that do”. It is tempting to say something similar about the author herself, who endured decades as a writer’s writer, more praised than read, before her instant elevation to national treasure when she won the 2009 Booker Prize for Wolf Hall.
For someone so attuned to the reductive power of myth-making, it must be odd to become an icon. These days, Mantel cannot even dare to notice that the former Kate Middleton is thin, or idly speculate on how Margaret Thatcher might be assassinated, without attracting anguished tabloid headlines. The pleasant surprise of this collection of her journalism is that she has not allowed the corrosive mask of fame to wear down her sharp edges, or flatten her nuances.