Reviewing: Strangeways: A Prison Officer’s Story by Neil Samworth

The Motive:

“Write about crime without knowledge of punishment? You’ve never been in a prison, although perhaps you deserve to be.”

Laurel and Hardy. Yin and Yang. Fish fingers and custard. Some things inextricably linked. And if you plan on writing about career criminals, at some point you’ll want a sense of how they spend their societally-imposed leisure time.

The Evidence:

One problem with fictional detectives catching bad guys left, right and center is the need for an army of fictional prison officers to look after them. Unsurprisingly, that concern arises in the real world too, and it is very effectively articulated in this book. Neil Samworth has an engaging and conversational authorial voice. I didn’t only learn about prison, but also that in Yorkshire, Mither, far from scowling at Faither across the breakfast table, means trouble, something that every prison officer must anticipate every day on the job.

But it isn’t all mither. We hear about dynamic security: the relationship between officers and inmates that allows dangers to be nipped in the bud. And about the empathy and professionalism that allows these institutions to function. There is also something reassuringly (and resourcefully) human about inmates maintaining communication via an ingenious use of strings cast under doors.

Of course, the environmental stresses take their toll. A substantial part of Samworth’s book is about the repercussions of the job on the prison staff. Between violence (threatened and actual), arson and self-immolation, death in custody, pressures arising from the misbehaviour of colleagues, or the simple fact of interacting with some of society’s most despicable characters, this is a job that carries a cost. And it is a cost that is seldom properly discussed or recognised: Samworth, despite being too ill to work struggled to persuade a friend that PTSD can happen outside the army.

So how to avoid losing more officers to PTSD? The author uses a memorable phrase: too many staff is the right amount. After reading this book, I couldn’t disagree. Fewer inmates feels like the right amount too, but for that we’ll need problem-solving as Samworth might say, “on the out”, in wider society. He advocates intervening when young, both to break the cycle of criminality and prevent the descent into drug addiction. He talks sensibly about the positive role of practical education in prisons, and I can’t help but feel that society is best served by a durable rehabilitation that useful education could make possible.

Samworth’s ideas for improving the prison service were occasionally challenging. For example, it was uncomfortable that an experienced UK prison officer sometimes advocated strategies from the US penal system, a country famous for the highest incarceration rate in the world. However, there is no denying the author has the voice of experience. If someone has walked the walk, we should listen when they describe the journey and think hard about the problems they raise.

The Verdict:

This book is eye-opening, informative, and a compelling read. It has given me something of a taste for the life inside. Now, having gained a decent handle on one half of the prison story, at some point I’d like to take on an inmate’s perspective. CARL take note: one for the future…