The cover describes First Person as "an astonishingly frank self-portrait by Russia's President Vladimir Putin". This is misleading on two counts. In the first instance, Mr Putin did not write the book; it is the result of a series of interviews by journalists. Secondly, if less importantly, he was not president at the time of the interviews.
The original Russian version `Ot Pervogo Litsa' (From the First Person), published by Vagrius in Moscow, was more honest in describing itself as `Razgovory S Vladimirom Putinym' (Conversations with Vladimir Putin). That, however, is just about as far as the honesty of the original went.
The Russian edition runs to 191 pages compared to the 219 of the Hutchinson version. The are two reasons for this. The most important, as far as bulk is concerned, is the addition by Hutchinson of an article by Putin called "Russia at the Turn of the Millennium". This appeared on the Russian Government website considerably earlier than the date given in the book as December 31st, 1999.
The most important reason, from the point of view of honesty, for the larger size of the English version is that it contains a passage which was quietly excised from the original. The censored passage shows Russia's new president in a less than favourable light and, to this extent at least, the English translation is as "astonishingly frank" as the publishers suggest.
The section that the Russians failed to publish concerned the Radio Liberty journalist Sergei Babitsky, who was arrested by Russian forces in Chechnya and then officially handed over to a group regarded by Mr Putin and his administration as terrorists, bandits and savages. At the time of the interviews Babitsky's whereabouts was unknown.
Asked when Babitsky would show up in Moscow Mr Putin replies: "He'll show up. And as soon as he shows up he will be summoned for interrogation." Mr Putin goes on to accuse Babitsky, whose reports from the war ran counter to Kremlin propaganda, as "working for the bandits," and to brand him as a traitor. In subsequent responses, Putin displays a vicious antipathy to Babitsky and his use of freedom of expression. He then defends the morality of exchanging a journalist for captured soldiers.
All this is in marked contrast to Mr Putin's answers to questions regarding Pavel Borodin, the Kremlin official who brought him to Moscow from St Petersburg. Swiss prosecutors have issued an international warrant for Mr Borodin's arrest on charges of money laundering and membership of a criminal organisation. Mr Borodin, unlike Mr Babitsky, should - according to Mr Putin - enjoy the benefit of being presumed innocent until guilt is proved.
A number of insights in the book, which was initially published in the run-up to Mr Putin's election campaign, are quite bizarre. He spent a large part of his life in Germany where, he told the journalists, there were many prostitutes but not even one of them was German. This left him open to a tough question. "How would you know?" one of the reporters asked. The answer was revealing: "So I've been told . . . by people like yourselves from the licentious professions."
Mr Putin's profession, that of espionage, has not been without its own licentious edge. For all that, he is likely to be with us for some time, according to some of the peripheral information the book supplies. The survival genes in Russia's new president would appear to be strong: his maternal grandfather was a cook for Stalin, and lived to tell the tale.
Seamus Martin is an Assistant Editor of The Irish Times. He specialises in Russian politics
