Because of Adams's penchant for privacy, his public portrait is one that has been drawn almost exclusively by others, many of them so hostile to Adams, a few so hagiographic, that much of what passes for biography is actually caricature. Adams is one of the most enigmatic Irish leaders of the past century because he has been so parsimonious with self-revelation. His ability to toe the party line, or stay on message, as the Irish and British say, is legendary. He hails from a community that celebrates communal struggle and accomplishment and frowns on individuals hogging credit. Not an easy place to be a politician. But a famously good one to be a writer, and when Adams reveals a bit of himself, he brings to life a story that is mostly about backroom wheeling and dealing.
His description of a failed 1984 assassination attempt that left him and some friends badly wounded is riveting. Of his would-be assassins, he writes, "Apart from heartfelt appreciation for their incompetence, I had no great regard for them, but I did understand that they did what they did because of the political conditions in which we lived."
He asks the same understanding be afforded him and other Irish republicans, who believed that using violence was justified because there was no alternative to change a Northern Ireland where Catholic nationalists were treated as second-class citizens. Adams insists he is not a violent person and repeats his longstanding denial of ever being a member of the IRA, a denial that few people, even his admirers, believe. Some of those admirers might be surprised at how critical Adams is of some IRA operations, but his detractors may see the book as Adams ducking his past.
