A Very English Scandal: Sex, Lies and a Murder Plot at the Heart of the Establishment

Picked this up after watching the Ben Whishaw and Hugh Grant series, and I was surprised by how much more depth the book offers. While the show captures the campy tragedy, Preston provides a meticulous deep dive into the 1960s and 70s political landscape. He masterfully threads together the letters, the court papers, and the sheer absurdity of the Liberal Party’s internal workings. The narrative moves with the intensity of a thriller, yet it never loses sight of the historical gravity regarding the treatment of gay men at the time. It is a brilliant, well-crafted account of how the British establishment bends over backwards to protect its reputation. If you want the full, unvarnished story of the Norman Scott affair, this is the definitive version.

John Preston has a real gift for making historical records read like a high-stakes thriller. This isn't just a chronicle of a trial; it's a character study of a man who believed himself untouchable. The 'nonfiction novel' style reminds me a lot of Truman Capote, where you get inside the heads of the players through reported conversations that feel remarkably authentic. The tragedy of the situation—not just the botched murder attempt but the ruined lives of everyone involved—is handled with a surprising amount of humor. The anecdotes about David Steel and the caravanning trip or the badger-obsessed MP add a layer of very English absurdity to the grim proceedings. Truly a standout piece of reportage.

Truth is stranger than fiction, especially when it involves the British Parliament in the 1970s. This book offers a fascinating glimpse into a moment when the establishment was beginning to crack under the weight of its own hypocrisy. Preston’s research is clearly exhaustive, yet he never lets the facts get in the way of a good story. The way he describes the atmosphere of 1970s London—the strikes, the blackouts, and the underlying sexual tension—is masterful. I found myself alternating between laughing at the absurdity of the plot and being genuinely appalled by the entitlement on display. It’s a fast-paced, highly engaging read that I couldn't put down.

The level of detail here is staggering. Having seen the television adaptation first, I wasn't sure if the book would have anything new to offer, but Preston includes so much more context. The inclusion of the photographs in the hardcover edition really helps put a face to the names, especially the mercurial Norman Scott. It’s a well-crafted narrative that explores how a man’s fear of his own identity can lead to such a spectacular downfall. The ending leaves you with a lot to think about regarding justice and how the system is rigged for certain classes. It's easily one of the most readable non-fiction books I've encountered in years.

Not what I expected from a political biography, to be fair. Instead of a dry recitation of dates and parliamentary votes, this reads like a bizarre caper filled with incredibly intelligent people making the stupidest possible decisions. Jeremy Thorpe is such a complex, entitled figure—a man who campaigned against apartheid while simultaneously plotting to eliminate an ex-lover who threatened his career. The secondary characters, particularly the hapless Peter Bessell, provide a sense of tragicomedy that kept me turning pages late into the night. It captures that specific British mixture of stuffiness and utter chaos perfectly. My only minor gripe is that the middle section gets a bit bogged down in legal back-and-forth, but the climax at the Old Bailey is worth the wait.

Is it possible for a true story to feel this far-fetched? I had a vague knowledge of the Thorpe scandal, but Preston brings the 1970s back to life with incredible vividness. The stakes are palpable, especially considering homosexuality was still a criminal offense for much of the timeline. You really feel the desperation that drove the murder conspiracy. The book is well-researched, utilizing contemporary interviews to fill in the gaps that the newspapers missed. It’s a fascinating, albeit dark, look at how privilege and power can insulate a person from reality until the dog is shot and the secret is out.

After hearing about the Jeremy Thorpe trial for years, I finally decided to get the full story. I was not disappointed. The writing is incredibly polished and accessible, making a complex legal and political web easy to follow. Preston doesn't just focus on the 'sex and scandal' aspect; he dives into the financial fraud and the sheer arrogance of those in power. It’s fascinating to see how the climate shifted from the early 60s to the late 70s. The book features an amazing cast of characters who are both brilliant and remarkably incompetent. Watching them stumble through a murder plot is both horrifying and hilarious. Highly recommended for fans of British history.

Every page left me shaking my head at the utter incompetence of these supposedly brilliant men. Look, we all know politicians lie, but the sheer scale of the cover-up here is mind-blowing. The fact that the Liberal Party leader thought he could hire a hitman through a chain of bumbling associates is just incredible. Preston captures the 'Very English' nature of the scandal perfectly—it’s polite, it’s seedy, and it’s ultimately devastating. The trial scenes are particularly well-written, giving you a front-row seat to the legal gymnastics used to protect Thorpe’s reputation. It’s a gripping narrative of intensity that holds up a mirror to the double standards of the era.

While the core narrative is undeniably gripping, the start felt remarkably slow to me. Preston spends a lot of time on the early backgrounds of the minor players, which might test the patience of someone looking for immediate drama. However, once the relationship between Thorpe and Norman Scott takes center stage, the pacing picks up significantly. The details regarding Scott’s National Insurance card—a seemingly small thing that spiraled into a national crisis—were particularly enlightening. It's a solid 3-star read that eventually earns its keep, providing a sobering look at how the 'Old Boy' network operates in the shadows of the UK government.

Frankly, I found the tone a bit too flippant for such a dark subject matter. There were moments where the author seemed more interested in cracking a joke about British eccentricities than addressing the genuine trauma involved. While the book is undoubtedly well-researched, the 'New Journalism' approach of recreating decades-old conversations felt more like historical fiction than actual biography. I preferred the parts that stuck to the documented evidence rather than the speculative internal monologues. It’s an interesting story, obviously, but the pacing felt uneven and the humor occasionally felt out of place given the attempted murder at the heart of the book.