It is often clear why a politician would write a memoir. Some are setting the record straight, others have an untold story that they need to tell. Nancy Pelosi’s The Art of Power does neither, nor much else. With glimpses of powerful storytelling that is too soon eclipsed by dry narration, Pelosi just misses the mark of what makes a compelling autobiography.
As the first woman Speaker of the House, Pelosi certainly has a fascinating story. She got into politics relatively late, having devoted her life to being a housewife and mother of five. Let alone her two stints as Speaker of the House, she has been witness to decades of political turmoil as Representative for the majority of San Francisco. Pelosi covers an extensive period from the Iraq Invasion and the 2008 financial crash to the storming of the capitol in 2020.
From the get-go, it is unclear whether Pelosi is in on a self-deprecating joke. Her motto “for the children” tirelessly rang through each chapter, a show of her unflinching principles. The best word to describe The Art of Power is principled. Every single chapter ends with an outline of the ethos behind every decision she made. In her chapter about introducing the Affordable Care Act, Pelosi bullet-points the impact of the legislation and quoted Abraham Lincoln about the importance of acting on “public sentiment”.
The Art of Power is not interested in narrating Pelosi’s personal journey from housewife to House Speaker. Nor is the book an exposé on the inner workings of Congress or the Senate. It is difficult to grasp why Pelosi wrote this book at all. Although it provides a detailed picture of how certain laws came to be, it would be more convenient and lighter reading to look up much of the book’s content at your own behest. It is surprising that with a unique and inspiring story of her own to tell, she plays her emotional cards bafflingly close to her chest.
This makes for peculiar reading. Undoubtedly, there are flickers of moving narration that make Pelosi’s perspective captivating. Her telling of the brutal attack on her husband, the fear she felt during the 2020 insurrection, and the restrained venom she has towards Donald Trump, are where she shines. Her passion and ability to draw on her voters’ tragic experience when healthcare was solely a privilege are truly moving.
During the insurrection, Capitol staff with military training were crafting pikes out of wooden furniture, and Pelosi could hear the shrieks of rioters baying for her blood. It was at these points The Art of Power stood on the precipice of becoming a pageturner. But this streak of humanity is not applied consistently. For that reason, large chunks of the book feel directionless and frustrating to read.
Pelosi has undoubtedly led a fascinating life, which she may hopefully express in another book. However, it is hard to read along with Pelosi with the whiplash of personal tragedy and dry recounting. This would better suit a reader who is looking for more intricate breakdowns of momentous legislation, rather than someone looking to read Pelosi’s autobiography.
Words by Elizabeth Sorrell
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