Nicola Sturgeon Memoir Hyped as Obama-Level: Is It Really Comparable?

Does Sturgeon’s ‘Frankly’ Measure Up to Obama’s Memoir?

Drop Barack Obama and Nicola Sturgeon into the same sentence and you’re begging for debate. That didn’t stop Pan Macmillan. The publisher has gone all-in, hyping Nicola Sturgeon’s upcoming book ‘Frankly’ as “the most insightful and stylishly open memoir by a politician since Barack Obama’s Dreams From My Father.” Now, that’s a bold pitch. Obama’s memoir from 1995 still gets loads of respect for how deeply it explores who he is—identity, race, family roots—way before anyone tagged him as a future president. Critics and fans both label it as a groundbreaking piece, something well beyond your average political tell-all.

Fast forward to Sturgeon’s ‘Frankly,’ set to hit shelves in August 2025. Her story is impressive for sure; she’s the first woman to lead Scotland, held the post for almost a decade, and saw her country through chaos like Brexit, the 2014 independence referendum, and the COVID-19 pandemic. If you’re into Scottish politics, her inside takes on shifting party loyalties and exchanges with names like Salmond, May, or Trump pack some punch. The publisher makes big promises of a candid, unflinching, personal account. But at the end of the day, what’s really new here for the genre?

Scottish Legacy versus Global Impact

The problem with stacking Sturgeon’s memoir against Obama’s isn’t just about national pride. Obama’s book hit the world with something fresh—a global story of migration, belonging, alienation, and identity. He was a relatively unknown law grad then, not a titan of politics. That made his reflections land differently. People reading it weren’t hoping for political gossip or a rehash of term-heavy headlines. They were drawn into a story that stretched from Kansas to Kenya and addressed questions way bigger than party politics.

Sturgeon’s memoir is inevitably narrower. That’s not an insult—it’s just a fact. Her life traces from working-class Ayrshire right to the top floor of Holyrood. Scottish independence, internal party drama, even her resignation in 2023—these resonate in Scotland and among keen UK watchers. But the scope, style, and emotional stakes are classic political autobiography. It’s mostly about service, duty, and decisions, not existential journeys or world-shifting ideas.

So, why lean so hard on the Obama reference? Simple: marketing. With ‘Frankly’ launching at the Edinburgh International Book Festival and Sturgeon landing an ITV News interview, booksellers want buzz. Outsize comparisons make headlines, but they can backfire. If readers expect the literary heft of Obama’s work, they may walk away disappointed, no matter how sharply written Sturgeon’s reflections are. That’s a setup for backlash, not blockbuster sales.

At the end of the day, Sturgeon’s influence on Scottish life is unshakable. Her book will matter—to Scots, to political junkies, to anyone trying to understand the Brexit years or SNP evolution. But nobody needs to call it the next ‘Dreams From My Father’ for it to find its audience. Sometimes, big claims only get in the way of honest storytelling.