Bertrand Russell lived for over 90 years. During his long life he engaged in correspondence with many leading figures of the day, from Keynes to Khrushchev. It is fascinating to read these letters, although several of them are written in German or French and thereby are inpenetrable to the average reader.
As to the Autobiography itself, it starts off extremely well. In recording his early years, Russell is brutally honest and details his struggles with all aspects of his life from mathematics through to masturbation, and he does so with his trademark wit. For his sins, he is patriotic, passionate and profoundly idealistic, yet, with the exception of his actions to his first wife, comes across as rather likeable. Highlights include early trips to the new USSR circa 1921 and China pre-PRC.
In the later half, Russell becomes cagey. His third divorce occupies a single line. His prose also deteriorates. Meanwhile, the ratio of letters to biography shifts so that one finds oneself wading through a sea of largely irrelevant letters on this or that peace initiative, and Russell, who had previously been somewhat of a maverick, becoming a respectable, if idealistic figure. Shudder.
The ends of the book tie together rather nicely. However, one can't help feel that somewhere Russell shifted from his original purpose of honest self-exploration. It is as if the light of truth became too painful for himself and those close to him to bear.