A Prison Diary [Hardcover]

While people probably felt that Archer deserved to go down, and others felt not, this narrative of prison life in a cat A prison pulls no punches. Archer has taken the time (excuse the pun) to find out as much as he can about the life people lead in prison.

It speaks of the trials (again, excuse the unintentional pun) and tribulations of life behind bars, and the stark culture shock that first time offenders face when they pass through the iron gates. Interesting though, is the fact that the sanest, friendliest people in there, those that befriend him, and look after him, not because of his outside status (many of them spend too long behind bars to know) but because they want to, because, in their own morals he did not deserve to be there, and they wanted to help and ensure that Archer survives, those people are in there for some of the worst crimes.

A fantastic work, which really brings home the state of Britains prisons in the 21st century.

In 2001, Jeffrey Archer was convicted of perjury, arising out of his libel suit against a tabloid newspaper some years earlier, from which he had profited enormously. His conviction occurred as a result of new evidence indicating that there had been a conspiracy, instigated by Archer himself, to 'prove' that he could not possibly have been with a prostitute on the night in question.
Convicted of perjury and conspiracy to pervert the course of justice, Archer was initially sent to Belmarsh, a high-security jail in London, pending recategorisation to a lower-security prison based on being assessed as low-risk. He spent a period of just over a month in Belmarsh, and this diary - written while in prison - is the result.

In reading it, one has to learn to ignore the continual hard-done-by attitude of Archer. He consistently pleads his innocence, despite his guilt being indisputable, and complains about the 'bias' of the trial judge. We are treated to a stream of commentary about the judge's summing-up, and as if that's not enough, Archer tells us all about the letters he receives sympathising with him and agreeing that he has been treated unfairly (he doesn't mention any correspondence which says that he got what he deserved!). He also name-drops constantly in relation to 'famous' people who are apparently on his side.

He also has to name-drop in relation to fellow prisoners, so we hear about Ronnie Biggs, the Great Train Robber, who is also in Belmarsh, and also Barry George, on remand at the time awaiting trial for the murder of Jill Dando. In this respect, it is hard to understand how the book got published; it is apparently against Home Office rules to identify serving prisoners in this way.

All that aside, there are some telling insights into prison life which deserve wider reading. For instance, Archer puts forward a vigorous argument against sending those convicted of minor offences and serving short terms to a high-security prison such as Belmarsh. The young man serving six weeks for breaking a red light is a telling example: he is being put under severe pressure to murder the witness in another prisoner's trial, once he is released. Another short-term prisoner was persuaded to try heroin for the first time while in Belmarsh, and within a couple of days is addicted: so when he is released once his six weeks are up, how will he fund his addiction?

There are certainly lessons to be learned about the prison culture and the criminal justice system from Archer's book, and given the author's reputation as a novelist, this book is sure to get a wide circulation. However, it is far from being the best critical account of prison life in recent years; I would recommend that anyone wishing to read a less egotistical and melodramatic account might look for Erwin James' A Life Inside, also available.

Mr. Justice Potts apparently told either Jeffrey Archer or the jury that Archer's trial was "the worst case of perjury" in British legal history. The jury delivered a guilty verdict and the judge similarly pronounced the longest sentence ever for perjury - four years imprisonment. This is where Archer's first prison diary begins, with a long walk to a cell underneath the Court building. It ends 22 days later, during which Archer resides in HMP Belmarsh, a maximum security prison. The diary is subtitled "Hell" and daily grinds, humiliations, prison bureaucracy and fears weigh down on the prison's most famous resident throughout. Humour, although there is a little of it, is in very short supply.

Never, it seems, did the author expect to be convicted and several times throughout the journal Archer decries the evidence on which his trial was based. Beforehand, my prior knowledge of Jeffrey Archer, the man, was restricted to his illustrious writing career. Writing, as he is here, mainly to keep his sanity, his proclamations in this respect are somewhat difficult for readers unfamiliar with 'what actually happened' to comprehend. There is neither account of the trial itself nor anything approaching a statement such as "I'm innocent." Instead there are legal niceties - Archer's co-defendant was acquitted whilst Archer was convicted for "conspiring to pervert the course of justice" (Archer does not understand how he could have conspired with someone to commit a crime if that other person was acquitted); and a fair degree of venom for Mr. Justice Potts and the prosecution's witnesses, one of whom admitted in the witness box to practically robbing Archer blind.

As I suspect is common with all famous prisoners entering the system, Archer finds himself an unhappy passenger on at least three merry-go-rounds - the prison system is determined to treat him like any other prisoner and not to be seen to be awarding him any special favours; the legal system is, or was, both determined to follow through with his prosecution to the bitter end and ensure he was made an example of on sentence; and finally we witness the press interest/intrusion plaguing both his trial and subsequent internment. It is impossible not to feel sympathy for him being banged up in a notorious and dangerous jail, despite the hundreds of good causes he has supported over the years, if he is indeed correct that the evidence against him was doubtful. However, because he does not go into that evidence in much detail, the reader is also slightly alienated. Or at least I was.

Prison Diary 1, summed up in one word, is intriguing. The minutiae of every last action is penned - from the succession of forms that process his arrival - to the rules that regulate almost every aspect of his existence within the walls. Discovering that the warning given to him by another inmate that "Belmarsh has the worst grub in the whole prison system" is accurate, his diet becomes one of lollipops, cereal and UHT milk. And, partly in relation to an altercation in the exercise yard, and partly in relation to a succession of wholly invented 'revelations' about him 'lording it up' in prison by the News of The World, he remains in his cell for a long period of time each day.

He comes across a variety of characters including 'the man (who can get you anything)' Del Boy and a clued-up Irishman Shaun Keene, who educates him on the reality of drug-use within HMP Belmarsh. He forges something of an alliance with a few of them, whilst others are mentioned only once before Archer finishes his recording of the conversation with them with something like "I don't think I will see him again." Particularly memorable passages include his account of a psychotic double-murderer striding over to accompany him on association, and his discovery of the horror of 'listener' Fletch's 'little green book'. In less stress-fuelled moments, Archer teaches a creative writing class, and listens to the odd game of cricket.

As you might expect, the style of writing is a quite radical departure from the Archer fiction books. Prison Diary lifts the lid on exactly what serving a prison sentence involves with no exaggeration and only the odd touch of dramatic licence. The crimes of Archer's cellmates range from the sad (One man conveys that Archer must only repeat the details of his crime as long as he doesn't make the fact he stabbed an Australian multiple times sound in any way violent) to the more troubling (Drug-dealers who tell Archer that they can earn £200,000 per year from the trade and can therefore never settle into a 9-5 job). To help keep track of so many characters, they are often introduced by their Christian name plus a short recap of what they're in for. A short, but effective method.

As Archer's focus shifts on an hourly basis, the reader has to follow suit, allowing to experience just a little of the disorientation which pervades prison life. Then focus returns when one is least expecting it. One of my favourite passages was the Twelve Unit call the author made to his wife whilst feeling low, and its abrupt and critical moment of termination.

Extremely surprisingly, to both Archer and the reader, something about Archer's presence itself apparently brings a sense of calm to his maximum security surroundings. Prisoners, realising he is writing a book, put on a brave face around him, do not swear and ask him for the odd autograph. Officers forget themselves and call him "Sir". Prisoners intentionally applaud when he enters a room, and refer to him as "His Lordship" in jest. If Mr. Justice Potts thought he was condemning Archer to perpetual fear and misery, it seems he was mistaken. There is undoubtedly fear and misery in droves, and Archer experiences his fair share of it, but he brings something to the table that most prisoners do not - celebrity. Without sounding too gushing, even just his presence amongst them has something of an educational effect when they realise that the newspapers report Archer's conditions incorrectly.

Finally, scattered liberally through the text, are a number of observations which Archer makes. On some occasions he even speaks to politicians directly - "Are you listening, Home Secretary?" Alas, although this diary was written some seven years ago, many of these startling obvious observations remain uncorrected. Why, for example, are prisoners on remand (i.e. not yet convicted of an offence) housed with psychotic double-murderers? Why does 'the system' wait until a person is actually convicted then classify him as a B-cat (B dangerous level, from a scale of A (high) to D (low)) prisoner until it works out his 'real' categorisation?

Prison Diary 1 is a book that needed to be written and, however unjust Archer's incarceration may or may not have been, he was exactly the right person to write it. He is not released at the end of this diary, merely transferred to a second prison. The story therefore continues for two more volumes.