AN Wilson’s Confessions is subtitled “A Life of Failed Promises”, which is a little harsh for one of the most consistently lively and entertaining writers and one of the kindest of men. I have known AN since he was literary editor of the Evening Standard, which followed his time as literary editor of the Spectator. He was, and is, a natural journalist. Trouble is, Wilson (like so many of us) values himself differently than others do. I found him to be a columnist of genius, a world-class gossip and a very good friend. As is clear in this book, he’s aware of his reputation as being just too productive, whereas other less fortunate souls vacillate endlessly. But he maintains, surprisingly, that he has to struggle to find the right words.