Party Animals by David Aaronovitch, book review: Stirring and personal

David Aaronovitch's memoir is an honest portrait of communist obsession

Matter of principle: journalist David Aaronovitch's parents wouldn't allow him to read The Beano (Sam and Lavender Aaronovitch)

Memoirs, as a rule, are not happy affairs. Stories of pleasant holidays and unfalteringly loving parents do not make fascinating reads, and while the sub-genre of the misery memoir has experienced a blissfully welcome fall from grace, it is still the tales of real-life family tumult which keep the pages turning.

Party Animals maintains the tradition with a portrait of growing up as the child of two difficult parents in north London. But it is also a stirring and personal yet expansive history of the ideals his committed communist parents strived towards with a passion sadly lacking at home. In 1961, Russian cosmonaut Yuri Gagarin came to London and made a pilgrimage to the Highgate grave of Karl Marx. David Aaronovitch, approaching his seventh birthday, perched on a dustbin for a glimpse. For his dedicated family, it was a shining moment: this was what the socialist regime could achieve. But for young David, and the members of the communist party distributing pamphlets, raising funds and adorning their mantelpieces with space memorabilia, life proved a little more down-to earth.

In Party Animals, we see a self-contained pocket of the city live and breathe, spreading its message via an eternally loyal base of followers, and Aaronovitch fuses his adolescent memories with historical landmarks in the communist way of life. He recounts the history of the The Daily Worker (now The Morning Star), recalls the Great St Pancras Rent Strike of 1960, and describes reactions to the Russian invasion of Czechoslovakia. But there are also forays into the confessional, recollections of more personal crises such as a lack of access to The Beano or The Dandy – the publishers were non-union. There are memories of a virginal contraction of crabs and a thankfully brief recollection of a spell of projectile diarrhoea.

Most crucial, though, is the analysis of the relationship with his parents. Aaronovitch's father Sam is described repeatedly as a pillar of communism, unparalleled in his commitment to the party's beliefs. Despite his fervour, he is largely absent in the household, a mercurial presence in the lives of his children and wife Lavender. It is she who proves the book's fascinating and divisive core. Diligent and steadfast, she pulls few punches and clings to the ideals of a strong communist woman. But she is also cruel and cold, exhibiting tendencies toward the emotionally callous and, occasionally, physically violent. Aaronovitch establishes early on his belief that "she clearly – but conflictedly – did not like me", and there is little to suggest otherwise: her lack of affection for her eldest son is made evident repeatedly, becoming no less devastating with every crushing instance.

Her legacy, however, cannot be underestimated: among the first-hand accounts, letters and government files, Lavender's diligent keeping of diaries for much of her life has given her son a comprehensive, if complicated, document of her life and emotional state. He may have preferred the eternal affection of a more effusively loving mother, but the book is enriched by the memories of this highly complex woman.

"How can I give an idea of the complete otherness of the worldview that I was brought up with?" Aaronovitch ponders early in the book. It is a good question: a memoir's reach is too narrow, a historical biography's too vast. But Party Animals is a smart and well-balanced mix of the two concepts that, one can hope, would have made Lavender proud.

Jonathan Cape, £17.99. Order at £15.99 inc. p&p from the Independent Bookshop