Even the cover is a mystery. Julian Assange’s memoir carries a contradictory, if eye-catching, title: the unauthorised autobiography. On his WikiLeaks site the author disclaims authorship altogether. ‘I am not “the writer” of this book. I own the copyright of the manuscript which was written by Andrew O’Hagan.’ He claims that the text was ‘distributed secretly’ in the final week of September. Well I wonder. My copy was delivered by a helmeted courier who handed me the book only after a pre-arranged password had been exchanged between us: my name. This was hardly secret. The publishers, Canongate, explain in their racy introduction that Assange signed a contract last December and submitted his first draft in June whereupon he renounced his contract. ‘All autobiography is prostitution,’ he declared. He spent the money from his advance on a legal bid to annul the publishing deal. This failed. So out came the book.
Assange makes enemies easily.
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